Authors: Aray Brown
“Don’t let them get to you. They’re the REAL FREAKS. Mindless drones.” The biracial girl said. She was half Black and Half Asian, wore a butterfly tattoo.
Jordyss had black hair with blue streaks. She was interesting and didn’t conform like the rest. She was an outcast by choice.
“I know you. I’ve seen you around.” Medina said.
“My reputation precedes me.” Jordyss replied.
“Do you know what they’re saying about you?” Medina asked, almost a whisper.
“No, what are they saying.” Jordyss said, slyly.
“You set your old school on fire.” Medina said.
“Those are vicious rumors. I wouldn’t harm a fly.” She confirmed, shot a spitball at the leader of the drones. The dribble landed on his neck. The impact was enough to stir him around in the cold wooden seat. They locked eyes, her white hot stare smoldering in and out of his core as an awkward silence happened between them. In a split second the fear escaped him, and then went back to his studies. Medina chuckled, smiled. She hadn’t done that in a long time and had no reason to. The grin diminished remindful of the dilemma she had to brave. Isabel. Was she ok? Was she hurt? What kind of authority figure was she stuck with?
Medina didn’t know much about him except his name. It wasn’t much to go on but it was a start. She couldn’t begin again without her twin. She felt lost without her.
“Did someone kill your cat or something?” Jordyss asked, stoically.
“It’s my sister. I don’t know where she is. I have to get her back.” She said.
“Illinois department of children and family services, how may I direct your call?” A delicate voice answered.
“Where can I find Phil Saxton? I need to speak with him now!” Jordyss insisted, impersonating the potbellied overseer. Medina listened in.
“He’s at the club sir. Do you want me to call him for ya?” The man asked, excitedly.
“Uh, no, no I’ll go down there myself. What’s the name?” Jordyss asked, strongly.
“Donovan’s Titty Bar sir.” The man said with ease.
“It’s a topless bar right?”
“Yes sir. Isabel’s working late tonight.” The man said, barked like a dog.
* * * * * *
Donovan forced himself on her, robbing her of her virginity. Isabel felt the tears drop from her eyes. She had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time. He was the kind of man who took what he wanted. And if you put up a fight, he would give you a solid thrashing. He was a self-made man, built the club from the ground up. The environment wasn’t solid, nor was it stable.
Donovan used the corrupt social workers to his benefit. He had a partnership with Saxton. Saxton would bring him the girls and in exchange Donovan gave him a piece of the empire.
Donovan attacked her on a regular basis. He told her she was his to do with as he pleased and if she disagreed he would give her a reminder to make sure she would never forget. Her living situation turned into a nightmare. Isabel had her vices to dull the pain, just like her father.
“I wanna go home.” Isabel said, slipped on her clothes.
“You ARE home. I’m your family now. You remember that.” Donovan said, grabbing her face, nostrils flaring.
Isabel treaded to the bathroom, looked in the mirror. She had a black eye and the cut on her lip.
Isabel wasn’t the person she used to be. It was a blur to her now. She was a woman but not the woman she desired to be.
“Showtime ladies! Let’s go, move your asses!” Donovan commanded, eyed her sternly, and paused.
“Issy, what do you think you’re doing?” Donovan asked.
“I’m not going out there.” Isabel was firm.
“Can you excuse us? I need to talk to her, alone.” He chuckled.
They left. Isabel was anxious. His emotions were on and off like a light switch.
“Why not?” He fiddled with the ring on his forefinger
“I don’t want to. I’m tired.” Isabel stammered.
Donovan locked the door, grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to the window. With one meaty hand, he raised it up, dangled Isabel outside until she agreed. Minutes later, she was shoved back in.
“Let me tell you what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna go in there and shake your ass like a good little girl. Clean yourself up. You’re on in ten.”
“Don’t cry. Don’t cry.” Donovan said, leaving the dressing room.
The reverberation of the slamming door clanged in her ears. Retouching her makeup, she opened a small drawer. Inside was a small canister of cocaine. She gazed at it. Isabel unbolted it, streamed a small amount on the table. She extracted a fifty dollar bill from her purse, rolled it up and snorted half of it. When it hit her, Isabel was on top of the world again. She was untouchable, uninhibited. Free.
18.
Medina waltzed into the club. The stench of sex perfused the atmosphere.
The women slid up and down the poles like a pro. Others were offering lap dances or a private dance. The place was packed with drooling men, money burning a hole in their pockets. Daniel De Bourg's "Damage" played over the loud speakers, drowning out the rest of the patrons. She reviewed every inch of the establishment. Her eyes settled on the bar, she leaned against it.
“You want something honey?” The bartender asked.
“I’m looking for someone.” Medina said.
“Everybody’s looking for someone honey. What’s your type? Blonde, Bru--“
“Brunette.” Medina interrupted.
“What’s her name doll?”
“Isabel.” Medina said.
“The main attraction.” She motioned to stage left.
Isabel gyrated on the pole. On the stage she was someone else. Men threw money at her and she loved every minute of it or she pretended to. She yearned for their attention. They were going crazy for her. They all wanted her.
Medina moved closer. One of the customers grabbed her leg. She tried to break free. The man tightened the grip and pulled, and then his friends joined in. She could feel herself slipping.
Eyeing the serving tray, Medina cleared it and flung it at him with full force. The metallic tray hit his neck. They released her on impact. The music stopped and Medina glared at them. Donovan came out, throwing his weight around.
“I don’t ever want to see you or your friends in this bar again! Get him outta here.”
His friends carried him out. Isabel walked offstage, embarrassed.
“Who the hell are you?” Donovan barked.
Medina walked to the dressing room and tapped her knuckles against the unlocked door.
“Come in.” Isabel said, paused.
“Hey, it’s good to see you. You should’ve told me you were coming.” Isabel embraced her, awkwardly.
“Is that all you have to say?” Medina asked.
“Did you enjoy the show?” She changed the subject, freshening up.
“You don’t have anything else to say to me? We haven’t seen each other since…” Medina trailed off.
There it was, their first awkward silence, two minutes before Donovan busted in wearing those five hundred dollar shirts he was famous for.
“Get your ass back out there! I paid good money for you!”
“This was her last set.” Medina said, a dead serious look on her face.
“Last set my ass! See I own her, don’t I sweetheart? And she ain’t done until I say she’s done. “He said, roughing her up.
Medina pulled out the fully loaded revolver, a farewell gift from Annalise. With it, she became the judge, jury and executioner. A peep from the cocked gun stopped him cold. She saw him as nothing, disregarding his human life.
“I don’t want any trouble. I just want what she owes me.” He grabbed her, pulling her closer.
“Let her go.” Medina said.
“Or what?” He said, calling her bluff, laughing devilishly.
Medina’s hands quivered.
“Do it! Do it!” Donovan demanded.
Isabel shook her head as Medina placed her fingers on the trigger, gripping it
. Nobody would miss him.
I never killed anyone before
.
But killing him would
be like killing a rat than a human being.
“Do It!”
The gun went off in Medina’s hand. Two bullets penetrated his chest. Donovan collapsed. Isabel cried over his body like a lost puppy, tears of anger and sadness in her eyes. Medina heaved her off him. They walked out, Price’s heart beating faster than normal which left her on edge. She’s never committed a murder.
In the common area, the crowd’s eyes were fixated on them, horrified at what they just heard. The bartender was on the phone to the police. Seconds later, she felt the cold steel of Price’s handgun to her temple. Fearing for her life, the bartender dropped the phone and put her hands up. Medina slowly advanced to the door, aiming the gun on anyone who dared to make a move. The crowd was still like a statue, too scared to say anything or make noise. Once they got outside they made a run for it but they didn’t get very far before their consequences caught up to them. They realized it was too late when they witnessed three police cars drive up. The cops considered it a hostage situation. The majority of them were on Donovan’s pay roll.
They were surrounded.
The twins mimicked each other’s movements, fearful out of their wits. The twins didn’t want this to dictate their near future. They didn’t know what to do. The odds of them making it out alive were improbable.
“Drop the weapon and put your hands behind your head!” An officer called out, pointing their weapons, ready to fire if necessary.
Price quietly cocked the pistol and executed a round without hesitation. She reloaded; treating the firearm like it was her religion, killing officers in her path; the cold steel against her fingertips, the power it emulated calling out to her. She was a natural. She dropped her weapon of death, scouting for Isabel. A deeply wounded cop rose up and managed to get a few shots in before his demise.
Medina saw the pellets as they came toward her, piercing her flawless mahogany skin. It was inevitable. She thought, as she went down like a soldier in the middle of war. Isabel screamed”Noooo!
Isabel rushed to her immobile body. She closed her eyes as the tears came pouring down her face.
“Medina? Medina? Medina?!” Isabel cried out.
Medina saw a vague reflection of her. It started to drift further and further away.
“Don’t die on me.” Isabel pleaded.
Extricating a cloth-like fabric from her bosom, Isabel wiped the fingerprints off the gun. She then placed it in the wounded officer’s hand, along with the casings and re-arranged the bodies to make the scenario look like self defense.
19.
Isabel dragged Medina’s lifeless body to an abandoned police car, leaving a string of blood behind. Isabel refused to believe she was a goner but Medina had a weak pulse. She then helped her to the passenger seat. When Isabel turned around, she was in for more than just a rude awakening. She was in the face of the enemy, a female officer, responding to a call for backup. She was a bunt-out cop with a nasty attitude. She was too far gone to be what she once was.
Like so many officers before her, she had lost sight on what was good and pure.
“Where do you think you’re going? Put your hands behind your head and spread ‘em. Do it!” She said.
“My sister is bleeding to death. Please.” Isabel begged.
The female cop merely glanced at the passenger seat, couldn’t care less if Medina’s life hung on by a thread.
“She’s already dead.” She said, cruelly.
“I don’t believe you.” Isabel said.
“You’re coming with me.” She said, extracting the cuffs from the utility belt.
“No I can’t leave her. You don’t understand.” Isabel said.
Just before the woman cuffed her, Darius attacked her from behind; chopping the carotid artery on her neck. A martial arts move he learned as a young boy. The officer dropped to the floor, barely breathing. Isabel faced him.
“Who are you?” Isabel asked.
“I’m your father.” He said.
“Alex Price is our father.” Isabel said with gumption.
“Alex Price is a joke” Darius replied.
“Where did you come from?” Isabel asked.
“She doesn’t have much time left. We should take her to the hospital now or do you want to plan another funeral?” A stern Darius said.
Putting her in the grave wasn’t an option for Isabel. She blamed herself for the madness that occurred and would do whatever she could to save her, a life for a life.
“Fight. Fight.” Isabel said, peering through the window, tear stained face; walking on pins and needles.
The doctor pressed the defibrillator adjacent to her chest, giving another jolt of electrodes. With every jolt, Isabel bit her nails.
“Clear!” He decreed.
They gazed at the heart rate monitor, hoping for a change but there was nothing, but a long beeping noise.
“Clear!” He continued. This time he put it on full impact. They clenched their teeth in anticipation of what would come; to the point of exertion.
“She’s lucky to be alive, thought we lost her for a minute there.” He said.
“How long will she be comatose?”Darius asked.
“It’s hard to say, a month or two, maybe more.” He said.
“When can we see her?” Isabel asked.
“Right now, but keep it short. She needs her rest.” He said.
“Thanks Doctor.” Isabel concluded.
The resident doctor walked away to tend to other patients.
Isabel went in first, reflected on the trials and tribulations they put up with. She questioned if it was officially over, and then caught a glimpse of what Medina had been reduced to.
“I know you can’t hear me, I’ll try anyway. I don’t want to lose you. You’re all I got left. You’re my family. You always thought I was the strong one but you were wrong. There’s a reason why you’re daddy’s favorite. We’re survivors remember? We got a lot of catching up to do” Isabel said, clasping her hand.
“Hey, you don’t know me but I’m an old friend of your mother’s. Actually we used to date. You remind me so much of her. I wanted to be a father but she took that choice from me. I wanted to kill her. I heard someone beat me to it. Wish I was there to see it. You gotta wake up.”Darius said, leering at her.
Darius retreated to the waiting room completely drained, like his world was somehow non-existent. The wind was knocked out of him.