Murderville (3 page)

“Unfortunately it cannot fix this. These things are conducted under a specific set of guidelines, A’shai. There is a list that all heart patients are placed on. Liberty is next on the list for her blood type, but there isn’t a heart available right now,” Dr. Simmons explained.

A’shai’s mind instantly went to the gutter as he thought of what he would have to do to give Liberty a new heart. He would kill the next man to save this one woman. He was desperate for a resolution, but he knew that in reality there was none. He didn’t want to taint Liberty by committing murder on her behalf. She didn’t believe in it, and he knew that she would never accept a heart obtained in such a way.

“So we’ll wait for a heart,” A’shai whispered.

“I’m afraid that Liberty doesn’t have enough time to wait. She needs a heart now. Unless her organ notification pager goes off soon, you have no choice but to prepare for the inevitable,” the doctor said sadly. He had lost many patients and although death was around him daily, Liberty was a special case. He was truly broken up about seeing her life come to an end.

“How long do we have?” A’shai asked.

“She doesn’t have long to live. A few days, a week, a month at the most. Liberty is dying,” Dr. Simmons said sadly.

“No, no, no,” A’shai whispered as his fists hit the wall in frustration. He couldn’t stop his emotions from spilling down his face. He couldn’t breathe and he saw red as he looked through the hospital window. He saw Liberty stirring from her sleep and he put his head down so that she couldn’t see his distress.

“Can I take her home?” A’shai asked. “I don’t want her to die here. I want her to be home with me . . . in her own bed.”

He wiped his face and pulled himself together as best he could.

“I think that’s best,” the doctor replied. “Make her happy. Think of the good times. You don’t have much time to spend with her. Make it count. You will know when her final moments are nearing. The pain will start to fade.”

A’shai nodded and then looked up to see Liberty watching him through the window. She smiled and a warm feeling instantly spread through him. Everything inside of him loved her. He could feel her spirit pulsing through him. Just the mere sight of her made the little good he possessed shine through. He smiled back and then turned to the doctor.

“Thanks, Doc, for all of your help,” he said as he extended his hand. The men shook hands and then A’shai re-entered the room. He tried to mask his turmoil, but Liberty knew him too well. No one else would have picked up on the sadness within him, but Liberty could see it in his eyes. It was in the way he blinked: slowly, methodically, to stop the tears from falling.

“You look like he just told you your dog died,” she joked, trying to make light of the situation.

He smirked and replied, “Very funny.”

Liberty grew serious and reached out her hand. “How long?” she asked. She already knew that her life was on a countdown. She could feel in her bones that her time was coming to an end on this Earth. She was so weak and sometimes she had a hard time remembering things. All she could see was the shining light in front of her . . . she could no longer recall the darkness of her past. She was actually looking forward to death. The only thing about life that she would miss was the love of a man . . . her man . . . A’shai. In her eyes, he was the only positive. Life hadn’t been all that good to her so she didn’t fear death. Instead she embraced it, thinking unconventionally as she wondered what her afterlife entailed.

“Not long at all, but I’mma be with you every second, ma. I’m in this with you forever . . . believe that,” he said.

He reached down and kissed her lips gently as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He scooped her up into his arms as she rested her head on his chest.

“I’m taking you home,” he whispered.

A’shai carried Liberty into their luxury home. He had hustled hard for everything they had. The travertine stone floors, the Brazilian hardwood cabinets, the imported Parisian furnishing . . . it was all sheer opulence—the epitome of the American dream—but as he carried a dying Liberty in his arms he realized how foolish it all seemed. What was it all for? He had spent countless hours in the street, grinding, hustling night after night to give her material things. Wanting to provide for her and give her the world, he had saved every dollar, never spending anything without first sharing it with her. He had wasted time hustling and as he thought of what he could have done with all those hours, he was filled with regret. Time was something that he thought he would always have. Never had he ever thought it would slip away from them so quickly.

“Stop, Shai,” Liberty whispered as she stared up at him. Their connection was so tangible that she knew what he was thinking. “Don’t babe.”

A lone tear betrayed him, rolling down his cheek as he nuzzled his face against hers. “I love you, Libby.”

“I know you do,” she replied. “Now I believe you owe me a warm bubble bath.”

Through it all she was able to muster a smile, reminding A’shai why she was the most beautiful person he had ever known.

“I can do that,” he said. He placed her down on the couch and propped a pillow beneath her head before going to draw her a bath. He would cater to her, he would love her, and he would do whatever she needed him to in order to make her transition easier.

As he placed her body into the steaming water she sighed in relief as it soothed her ailing bones. Everything seemed to hurt. Her entire body was weak and the water was like a vacation from her everyday torture. Candles filled the air with a French vanilla scent, and she inhaled deeply as she sat back and watched A’shai remove his clothes. His body was marred with wounds . . . some had been attained in war, some in the streets, some she had put there herself from her fingernails digging into his back as he filled her with intimate strokes. All of them told a story and as he joined her she reached for him, pulling him between her thighs as she kissed his scars.

“I’m too heavy, ma,” he protested.

“Shhh. Let mama take care of her man,” she whispered as she grabbed a sponge and washed his back. Even though the sponge was light as a feather it felt as if she was holding a fifty-pound brick. It took all of her strength to bathe him, but nevertheless she washed her man’s back. Their love was one unmatched by any other. They were so many things to one another: lovers, friends, adversaries at times . . . but they loved each other so deeply, so unapologetically, that it was parental in a sense. Liberty may as well have been A’shai’s mother and he her father, because they had made one another. Their love had been birthed . . . their union blessed . . . their lives’ paths intertwined.

A’shai kissed her kneecaps as she washed his back. He cried so silently that even he forgot that he was weeping.

“I just want you to be happy, Shai. After this is over I want you to live. You’ve been dying right along with me for too long,” Liberty said as he started to turn towards her, wetting his face to wash away his anguish before finally facing her.

“I can’t believe this is it, ma. I’ve got all the money in the world, and it can’t do shit for me. I’m just sitting back watching you leave me . . . watching you hurt,” A’shai said in frustration. “You don’t deserve this. GOD chose the wrong one.”

“He chooses everyone babe,” she whispered. “Everyone has to face death one day. That’s what makes life worth living.”

A’shai had not yet come to terms with the inevitable, but Liberty had a way of poetically putting things into perspective. They washed one another silently until the water ran cold, then A’shai carried her into their room.

He laid her in the bed and sat in the cozy, leather La-Z-Boy that was positioned beside it.

“Let’s talk,” Liberty said.

“You should rest, baby girl,” A’shai asserted.

“I don’t want to sleep. I want to keep my eyes open and hear your voice for as long as I possibly can. Tell me the story,” she insisted.

“You know the story, Lib. You lived it with me, ma. Besides that story ain’t always happy,” A’shai replied.

“But it’s ours, Shai. The good, the bad, the ugly . . . it doesn’t matter because it’s our story, and I want to hear it again. That story is the only legacy I’m leaving behind. Please, babe. You know you’re going to end up giving me my way so you might as well just say yes and start talking,” she shot back with a weak smile.

There weren’t many requests of hers that A’shai wouldn’t oblige. He had spared her of nothing, and he couldn’t remember a time when he had told her no. Spoiled and well-kept whenever she was in A’shai’s presence, Liberty was his rib. He never wanted to hurt her because it would be like hurting himself.

He sighed because he knew that the tale he was about to spin would bring about a lot of emotions . . . stirring old ghosts. He stood and went to retrieve a box of Kleenex, knowing that Liberty would need it for the tears to come. He was about to unlock an old closet that had been stuffed with memories, mostly bad, but the sporadic occasion of good times that hid inside were so joyful that they outweighed all of the horrendous times that came along with them. He went into his custom wine cellar and looked around at all the bottles of aged wine that were neatly arranged inside. He scoured the shelves until he found exactly what he was looking for and pulled the old bottle down. It wasn’t the most expensive one of the bunch for sure, but at that moment it was exactly what he needed. When he returned he sat down, put the Kleenex on the nightstand, and gave her a knowing look.

“I’m not gon’ cry,” she defended with a laugh, trying to be tough.

“You always cry,” he replied as he kissed her forehead and took a seat. He took a sip from the drink he had prepared for himself and then said, “You ready?”

She nodded, the muscles in her neck so weak that her head bobbled back and forth loosely. She was trying to muster as much strength as she could because she didn’t want A’shai to worry, but everything was so hard. It took everything in her to get into a comfortable position on the stack of pillows behind her.

“Relax, Liberty. You don’t have to do anything but listen,” A’shai said as he helped her adjust.

He took a sip of his drink and began to tell her the last bedtime story that she would ever hear.

TWO

2001

LIBERTY’S DESPERATE EYES PEEKED OUT FROM THE
back of the tarp-covered Jeep as she watched her old village burn to the ground. Her entire body shuddered as fear took over her. Gunshots rang out as the rebels whooped and hollered in victory, their testosterone-driven adrenaline justifying their immoral actions.

Liberty didn’t understand why she was being taken. Her home had been ransacked. Most of the women and children had been raped, tortured, then eventually killed, including her mother and siblings. Her young eyes had been a witness to the mass murders of her father and the other men in the village. Tyranny had erupted without warning and now as she was whisked away to a destination unknown she cried uncontrollably. She felt as if she had been spared, but what she didn’t know was that what the rebels intended for her would be worse than death itself. The men that surrounded her held automatic machine guns. Some of them could hardly be called men, their young faces revealed no more years than Liberty’s. She could not understand how someone her age could be so threatening . . . their faces showed no remorse, no signs of childhood antics . . . only malicious, cold-hearted eyes that stared back at her.

Liberty cried a river as she tried to stifle herself, her chest heaving up and down violently as tears cascaded down her face. The five-hour drive back to Sierra Leone was excruciating for Liberty. Too afraid to close her eyes she cowered in the bottom of the vehicle, her nerves attentive as the men bragged of their conquests around her. Other captives huddled together but none dared to speak, silenced by fear. The blood of her loved ones dried on her ashy skin, torturing her as she watched it crust on her arms and legs. When the jeep finally stopped moving Liberty was forced out, dragged through the muddy village by her hair.

Terror gripped her stomach as she was forced into a thatched hut house. She fell to her knees, scraping them on the cement floor, and as the door slammed closed the entire hut went dark.

A’shai peeked through the hole in the side of the hut trying to peer inside at the beauty he had captured. Something inside of him was glad that he didn’t have to kill her. Her light skin seemed to glow in the dark as his heart beat out of his chest. He didn’t know why Ezekiel had saved the girl, but he knew one thing for sure: he wanted to know her. He had never seen a girl so pretty.

A hand clasped around the back of his neck causing A’shai to drop the weapon he was carrying.

“You’ve got to learn the art of the kill son,” Ezekiel said as he removed the gun from A’shai’s hand and guided his son away from his spying spot. “You like her?”

A’shai shook his head and replied, “I was just looking. What are you keeping her for?”

Ezekiel entered his home with A’shai following curiously behind him.

“We need someone to cook and clean around here,” Ezekiel replied. “Need a woman here. Eventually she will make a fine wife.”

A’shai was too young to see the lustful look in his father’s eyes. Ezekiel needed a woman around all right, but Liberty was still a child. A ten-year-old little girl to be exact and Ezekiel’s cruel intentions for her were purely pedophilic.

Ezekiel approached Liberty, causing her to back into the corner and cover her eyes. He stopped abruptly, realizing that she was afraid. Knowing that she wouldn’t be easy to manipulate if she feared him, he gave her space. He walked over to A’shai and whispered in his ear. “Make her comfortable. Tell her she doesn’t have to be afraid here.”

Young A’shai’s eyes sparkled at the chance to interact with the girl. He nodded his head and watched his father leave.

A’shai ran to the rickety wooden table and grabbed a piece of bread before approaching the girl.

“It’s okay,” A’shai said as he kneeled beside her. “You don’t got to hide. I’m not going to hurt you. You hungry?”