Mind and Soul
The sterile smell of antiseptic filled Royce’s nose as he sat on the edge of the treatment table, his hand trembling slightly as he tried to follow the physical therapist’s instructions. The brightly lit room with its neatly organized exercise equipment and motivational posters on the walls, felt suffocating. The hum of the lights overhead only added to his ever fraying nerves.
His hand, still stiff and weak from the surgeries, struggled to grip the small foam ball the therapist had given him. Each squeeze sent a sharp pain shooting through his fingers, up his wrist, and into his forearm. His jaw clenched as he forced himself to complete the exercises, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts.
“Good, Royce. Just a few more reps,” Erin, his physical therapist said, her voice calm and patient.
Royce’s face twisted into a grimace as he squeezed the ball again, his hand trembling from the effort. He could feel his patience wearing thing, the pain and the relentless monotony of the exercises grating on hm.
“I can’t do this fucking shit,” he muttered, throwing the ball aside. It bounced off the table and rolled across the floor, coming to a stop by Erin’s feet.
“You’re doing fine, Royce,” she said, bending down to retrieve the ball. “It’s normal to feel frustrated, but you’re making progress. Let’s just keep going for a few more reps and see how you feel when you finish.”
“What fucking part of I can’t do it didn’t you get?” Royce snapped, his voice rising with anger. “I’m up here struggling to squeeze a fucking ball like I’m a 72 year old man and you’re playing in my face telling me I’m doing fine. Fuck out of here with that bullshit.”
Erin paused, maintain her composure despite the outburst. She’d dealt with this before – anger, fear, despair – all the emotions that came with the territory of recovery. But despite her experience, she also knew when not to push a patient, risking doing more harm than good.
“Look, I know it’s hard and it’s a crappy situation. You’re young. You think you’re invincible. I know it’s hard,” she said, her tone softening. “But healing takes time. You’ve already come so far—”
“Man, fuck that shrink shit,” Royce said, cutting her off. He stood up from the table, the sudden movement causing a sharp pain to shoot up his leg, and he stumbled slightly, catching himself against the table. “Fuck all this dumb shit.”
Erin watched him for a moment, concern etched on her face. After a moment, she nodded slowly stepping back to give him space.
“Alright, Royce,” she said gently. “We’ll stop here for today. But we need to talk about this next session, okay?”
He didn’t respond, simply grabbing his jacket and throwing it on as he limped toward the door, his body tense with barely contained frustration. He heard a heavy sigh escape Erin’s lips as he turned into the hall and headed for the door.
As he left the building, Rana was waiting in her car, scrolling through her phone. She looked up as he approached, noticing the expression on his face. He yanked the door open, struggling as he was prone to do to hop up into the SUV. Once he’d gotten into the passenger seat, he slammed the door behind him.
Rana didn’t start the car right away. She turned to him, her eyes filled with concern. “How was your session today?”
Royce didn’t answer, staring straight ahead, his jaw clenched, as he slumped down into the seat.
“I’m trying here, Royce. You gotta give me something.”
Royce sucked his teeth, waving his hand at the parking lot. “Man, can we just fucking go? I’m fucking tired.”
Sighing, she leaned forward to turn the key in the ignition but stopped short and sat back in the seat.
“Look,” she said softly. “I was talking to Tyrell and he gets a few free counseling sessions through his job that he can give to you. I think… I think it might help you if you talked to someone, a professional. I mean, you went through some shit. They might be able to hel—”
“Fuck no,” he said, cutting her off. He didn’t even bother to look at her to fully justify the suggestion. “I’m not going cry on some white woman couch about shit. The fuck they got to say that’s going to fix shit? I’m fine.”
“Are you?” she asked, not backing down despite his anger. “Because your definition of fine and everyone else’s definition are wildly different. I get it. You’re angry and you have a right to be angry. But you can’t just let this shit eat you alive for the rest of your life.”
The anger and frustration that had built up over the last few hours boiled over and he hit the dashboard with his hand, ignoring the pain throbbing through his fingers. “I said I’m fucking fine. I ain’t going talk to nobody about shit. Let’s just fucking go, shit.”
She pressed her lips into a thin line, her hear aching for her brother, her mind conflicted on what she needed to do to help him.
“Okay,” she said quietly, starting the car. “Don’t let life pass you by, though, because you’re refusing to heal.”
He didn’t respond, keeping his eyes fixed on the trees around the physical therapy office.
~~~~~~~~~~
October 2022
The street was eerily quiet after the gunshots, the sharp cracks still echoing in the minds of those who heard them the loudest. It felt like the entire neighborhood was holding its breath, waiting for something – anything – to break the silence. The flickering streetlights cast long shadows across the pavement, where two figures lay motionless, blood pooling around them, soaking into the cracks of the asphalt.
Dogs barked in the distance, the only sound breaking the oppressive stillness. One by one, doors creaked open, hesitant at first, as people began to emerge from their homes. Curious faces peered out from behind cracked doors and drawn curtains, eyes wide with fear and confusion. The buzz of whispered conversations spread through the crowd that was slowly gathering on the sidewalk.
“Who that?” someone muttered.
“Lord Jesus, help them,” an elderly woman whispered, clutching her robe tightly around her as she stepped onto her porch, he gaze fixed on the two bodies lying in the street.
The first sirens began to wail in the distance, growing louder with each passing second. Red and blood lights bathed the houses in a harsh, pulsing glow as the police cruisers screeched to a halt, doors flying open as officers poured out, their hands instinctively going to their weapons.
“Get back! Everyone, get back!” one of the officers shouted, waving the crowd away.
The onlookers hesitated, murmuring amongst themselves, but slowly began to retreat, giving the officers room to work.
Another officer knelt beside the bodies, his expression grim as he reached out to check for a pulse. His hand trembled slightly as he pressed his fingers against Royce’s neck, feeling the faint, erratic beat beneath the skin. He moved quickly to Romeo, his heart sinking as he couldn’t find a pulse.
“Fucking Jesus,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head and he pulled out his radio. “Roll ambulances to our location. 400 block of Stovall. Two gunshot victims, one unresponsive, one critical.”
The radio crackled with static as the dispatcher confirmed the request. The officer’s hands were shaking as he removed his gloves to run his hand over his face, pale under the streetlights.
Meanwhile, the crowd had grown as word spread about who was lying on the pavement. Mothers pulled their children closer, shielding them from the sight of the two bodies, blood staining the pavement. Neighbors who’d watched Royce and Romeo grow up stood in shock, unable to comprehend what had just happened.
The boys’ cousins, Arianna, Toni and Michael, pushed their way through the crowd. Arianna fought her way through the police officers, falling to her knees beside them. Toni ran to the sidewalk and threw up in a bush. Michael stood silently and began to cry.
“You gotta get back,” the officer said softly to Arianna, trying to pull her away but she fought him.
“This my fucking people, man!” she shouted, her hands hovering over them.
The officer nodded to a couple of female officers, and they came over, pulling Arianna away, kicking and screaming to put her down.
“Go tell mama to go get Tee Rash!” Arianna shouted at Michael once she was back behind the police line. He stood in shock for a second too long and Arianna punched him in the chest to shake him into action. He took off running down the street toward their house.
The sound of ambulance sirens grew louder, cutting through the commotion as it raced down the street. The crowd parted as the vehicles screeched to a halt, and paramedics jumped out, rushing to the scene with their equipment.
The paramedics worked quickly, assessing the boys’ conditions. One of them began administering CPR on Romeo, the front of his hoodie drenched with his blood. The paramedic’s hands moved with practiced urgency as they fought to revive him. Another paramedic checked Royce’s vitals, his expression tense as he prepared to stabilize him.
“Hang in there, kid,” the paramedic said, his voice barely audible over the chaos surrounding them. He quickly placed an oxygen mask over Royce’s face as his partner arrived with a stretcher.
They lifted Royce onto a stretcher and rushed him to one of the waiting ambulances. Feet away, the other team of paramedics continued to fight to revive Romeo.
“Faint,” the paramedic administering CPR said to his partner. He leaned down close to Romeo. “Maybe. We gotta move now.”
They carefully lifted Romeo onto a second stretcher, his body limp and unresponsive. They secured him and exchanged looks, unspoken words that spoke volumes.
Once the stretchers were in the ambulances, the officers cleared a path, guiding the paramedics through the crowd.
The street was left in a heavy silence save for Toni’s continued retching between crying and Arianna cursing at the officers demanding to know where Royce and Romeo were being taken so their mother could go to the same hospital.
As some of the neighbors began to head back to their houses to process what just happened, the bloodstains on the pavement were stark reminders of the violence that had erupted so suddenly.
Another case of senseless violence like the ones so many of them had witnessed before.
Dying to Live
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16842
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
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Soapy
- Posts: 16591
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 18:42
Dying to Live
that boy putting in work with september around the corner
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Captain Canada
- Posts: 7850
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Dying to Live
There's a heavy one. The trauma is insane in this one 
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16842
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
Dying to Live
Family Matters
Royce sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the blank wall in front of him. Every so often, he reached down and scratched his leg, finding it impossible to stave off the itching under the soft cast. His phone sat on the floor, screen dark, a few missed calls and unread taxes that had accumulated throughout the day. He knew who they were from, but he didn’t have the energy to respond. He never did. These days the phone was little more than a time piece.
Outside the door, he could hear Rana helping Roni with her homework, a far cry from the sounds he could remember back home. Not only was there ever anyone around to help with homework, but he couldn’t remember Rana ever taking that role when they were younger.
He felt like an interloper, out of place, a foreigner. He could see how Rana and Tyrell’s friends looked at him whenever they were over at the house – which was way more often than he could’ve ever expected.
They all reminded him of Britni. Sadity, college educated, upstanding members of society. They would’ve looked down on him before everything. Now that he’d been shot and nearly lost his life, he was just another example of everything they thought was wrong with society.
He wanted to go home, back to Houma. But his mother didn’t even call to check on him, neither did Reg. As far as he could tell, they’d washed their hands of him and moved on with their lives to grieve for the loss of Romeo.
A knock at the door broke him from his thoughts. He frowned, knowing that it was rare that Rana bothered to come to the room unless she was trying to get him to eat. The knock came again, louder this time.
Rana poked her head into the room. “You got some visitors.”
Royce continued to stare at the wall, not acknowledging her, still angry about her suggestion that he talk to a therapist.
“This is how he is all day,” Rana said to whoever was with her in a hushed tone
Out of curiosity, Royce looked over his shoulder to see who else was at the door. Arianna, Toni and Mike-Mike stood at the door, cautiously entering the room when they noticed him looking at them. He turned back around without a word.
Arianna and Toni went and sat down on the bed next to him while Mike-Mike took a seat on a chair that was in the corner.
Quietly, Rana closed the door and went back to the living room. A few moments later, the sound of her resuming her help with Roni’s homework drifted down the hall.
“This bitch fucking nice,” Arianna said after a few moments of silence.
Royce snorted a laugh, knowing she was referring to Rana and Tyrell’s house.
“I thought we were at the wrong place for real. They had white people walking up and down the street with strollers and dogs and shit. Rana came up for real, for real,” she continued.
Silence hung over the room after her comment, but she was never one to let a conversation end for long and nothing had changed in the last few months.
“You can’t answer no texts, nigga? No calls, nothing?” she asked Royce.
He only shrugged.
“Nah, you don’t get to just shrug now. Why you ain’t answering? We thought we lost you. You get out the hospital, get in a car, come to BR and never speak to us again?”
Toni leaned forward to look at Arianna. “Didn’t we talk about not making this about us on the way up here?”
“I’m not, but he a dickhead either way.”
Royce looked at Mike-Mike, waiting for him to jump into the conversation. Since he’d last seen him, his younger cousin had started to grow a bit of goatee, likely in preparation for his switch from Houma Junior High to Terrebonne at the end of the year.
But Mike-Mike only looked away, pretending to be interested in his phone, obviously uncomfortable in the room.
“How’d y’all even get up here?” Royce said, his voice quiet, something that he noticed was becoming more frequent whenever he spoke as if lack of use was making his voice weaker.
“Deshawn let me use his car,” Toni said.
“To drive to BR?”
“If you’d answer calls, you’d know that that boy in love like never before. Toni could ask him for the keys to his mama house and he giving them up,” Arianna said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong with them H.L. niggas, but I think it’s because it ain’t too many of us up there.”
“None of y’all got licenses either,” Royce said. “HPD might let it slide, but they not letting it slide in St. James or St. John.”
Arianna reached into her pocket and pulled out an ID. “Mackenzie Smith definitely got a license, bruh.”
Royce took the license from her and looked at it. It was clearly for someone else, and Arianna had replaced their picture with hers. A quick look might be enough to pass, but anyone scrutinizing it would know it was a fake.
He held it up for her to take back. “You gonna get popped with that. Should’ve gone to Miss Jones to make you one.”
“Miss Jones up the river. Someone snitched on her.”
“Yikes.”
“Alright, anyway, let’s go,” Arianna said, standing up abruptly. “A bitch hungry and I know y’all got a Wingstop or something out here.”
“I ain’t going anywhere,” Royce said, shaking his head.
“Yes, you are,” Arianna said, her voice firm.
“Come on, Royce. We just want to spend time with you,” Toni said. “We feel like we lost you, too, but you’re right here.”
He scratched at his temple, debating it. It was already the most he’d spoken in months. It was also the first time he felt like he was around people who weren’t looking down on him, or that he was somewhere that he didn’t belong.
Sighing, he stood up gingerly, swatting away Toni and Arianna when they both went to help him.
Arianna smiled. “That Blue Store place niggas always talking about around here?”
“I don’t know,” Royce said as he bent down to pick up his phone.
“We’ll ask Rana.”
As Arianna walked out of the room, followed by Toni, Mike-Mike hung back. Royce eyed him as he stared at the floor.
“It’s alright, lil’ cuz,” Royce said, giving him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.
Mike-Mike nodded before giving Royce a side hug and motioning for him to lead the way out of the room.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Nah, this shit really fucking me up. What does Tyrell do exactly? Sell dope?” Arianna asked, taking a sip from a small bottle of Fireball.
Royce shook his head as he stared out into the massive backyard he’d become used to seeing. “He works at a plant on the river out in Geismar. He’s an engineer or some shit, not like a grunt nigga turning valves and getting dirty in the heat.”
“I need to come up here after I graduate and find me one of these engineer niggas then,” Arianna said, laughing.
“All his boys shit like that, too. Engineers, accountants, lawyers, that rich people shit. Be talking about their vacation homes and shit. Motherfuckers went to Costa Rica last year. I think they always surprised that I’m related to Rana and Roni.”
“Just because they got fancy jobs doesn’t mean they didn’t start out just like us,” Toni said, picking at a chicken wing. “I’m not going to lie. You should take advantage of that shit. You know it’s all about who you know. White people do it.”
Royce scoffed. “Take advantage of it to do what? I ain’t engineer smart.”
“Didn’t Tyrell get you in touch with some football coaches?”
“The only person out here playing football anymore is Mike-Mike,” Royce said, gesturing to his younger cousin who was sitting against the deck railing, feeling the effects of the daiquiri they’d gotten him. “They told me my footballs day done.”
Royce tried to sound nonchalant about it, but it still gnawed at him every day that he could no longer do the one thing that he really enjoyed. He couldn’t even go play a pickup game in the park. The best he could do was play Madden and that didn’t even appeal to him anymore.
“So, where they got you going to school out here?” Arianna said, changing the subject. “Don’t tell me Rana got you at a Catholic school like Roni.”
“U-High. University Lab School or whatever the fuck its actual name is. Some magnet shit on LSU’s campus,” he said, shaking his head as he thought about the school and how different it was from Terrebonne.
“Sound like it’s a lot of white people there.”
“It is.”
“They football team good though,” Mike-Mike said before taking a sip from the daiquiri.
Royce nodded. “State champions and shit regularly. They recruit though. Just get the best players, stick them right outside LSU and then LSU comes and gets the best of them.”
“You start fucking those dude’s girlfriends yet like you used to do back home? You know, being you’re a dirty negro and all that,” Toni said, laughing.
He sucked his teeth. “These three people always in my shit talking to me and they the only ones who do so no. I ain’t trying to do that anyway. I’m trying to go back to the bricks at the end of the year. I ain’t trying to stay here.”
“It might not be all that bad to graduate here.”
Royce looked at Toni, flashing back to their conversation about their futures. It seemed a lifetime ago. He didn’t feel as if he had one anymore. That future died on the operating table back in October. He was destined for a mediocre dead-end job now.
“I bet the parades up here lit, though,” Arianna said, mentioning the approaching Mardi Gras season. “You should ask them people who talk to you where the best spots at so we can come through.”
“I ain’t going to no Mardi Gras parade up here. They ain’t even got parades on Tuesday. Shit’s booty,” Royce said. “If I’m going, I’m going in Houma.”
“Deshawn got a spot by the mall,” Toni said.
“He would have a fucking spot by the mall. At least go downtown and pretend you not scared of Black folks.”
“He’s not.”
Royce and Arianna shared a look and started laughing as Toni protested.
It was the first time he’d laughed since that night.
Royce sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the blank wall in front of him. Every so often, he reached down and scratched his leg, finding it impossible to stave off the itching under the soft cast. His phone sat on the floor, screen dark, a few missed calls and unread taxes that had accumulated throughout the day. He knew who they were from, but he didn’t have the energy to respond. He never did. These days the phone was little more than a time piece.
Outside the door, he could hear Rana helping Roni with her homework, a far cry from the sounds he could remember back home. Not only was there ever anyone around to help with homework, but he couldn’t remember Rana ever taking that role when they were younger.
He felt like an interloper, out of place, a foreigner. He could see how Rana and Tyrell’s friends looked at him whenever they were over at the house – which was way more often than he could’ve ever expected.
They all reminded him of Britni. Sadity, college educated, upstanding members of society. They would’ve looked down on him before everything. Now that he’d been shot and nearly lost his life, he was just another example of everything they thought was wrong with society.
He wanted to go home, back to Houma. But his mother didn’t even call to check on him, neither did Reg. As far as he could tell, they’d washed their hands of him and moved on with their lives to grieve for the loss of Romeo.
A knock at the door broke him from his thoughts. He frowned, knowing that it was rare that Rana bothered to come to the room unless she was trying to get him to eat. The knock came again, louder this time.
Rana poked her head into the room. “You got some visitors.”
Royce continued to stare at the wall, not acknowledging her, still angry about her suggestion that he talk to a therapist.
“This is how he is all day,” Rana said to whoever was with her in a hushed tone
Out of curiosity, Royce looked over his shoulder to see who else was at the door. Arianna, Toni and Mike-Mike stood at the door, cautiously entering the room when they noticed him looking at them. He turned back around without a word.
Arianna and Toni went and sat down on the bed next to him while Mike-Mike took a seat on a chair that was in the corner.
Quietly, Rana closed the door and went back to the living room. A few moments later, the sound of her resuming her help with Roni’s homework drifted down the hall.
“This bitch fucking nice,” Arianna said after a few moments of silence.
Royce snorted a laugh, knowing she was referring to Rana and Tyrell’s house.
“I thought we were at the wrong place for real. They had white people walking up and down the street with strollers and dogs and shit. Rana came up for real, for real,” she continued.
Silence hung over the room after her comment, but she was never one to let a conversation end for long and nothing had changed in the last few months.
“You can’t answer no texts, nigga? No calls, nothing?” she asked Royce.
He only shrugged.
“Nah, you don’t get to just shrug now. Why you ain’t answering? We thought we lost you. You get out the hospital, get in a car, come to BR and never speak to us again?”
Toni leaned forward to look at Arianna. “Didn’t we talk about not making this about us on the way up here?”
“I’m not, but he a dickhead either way.”
Royce looked at Mike-Mike, waiting for him to jump into the conversation. Since he’d last seen him, his younger cousin had started to grow a bit of goatee, likely in preparation for his switch from Houma Junior High to Terrebonne at the end of the year.
But Mike-Mike only looked away, pretending to be interested in his phone, obviously uncomfortable in the room.
“How’d y’all even get up here?” Royce said, his voice quiet, something that he noticed was becoming more frequent whenever he spoke as if lack of use was making his voice weaker.
“Deshawn let me use his car,” Toni said.
“To drive to BR?”
“If you’d answer calls, you’d know that that boy in love like never before. Toni could ask him for the keys to his mama house and he giving them up,” Arianna said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong with them H.L. niggas, but I think it’s because it ain’t too many of us up there.”
“None of y’all got licenses either,” Royce said. “HPD might let it slide, but they not letting it slide in St. James or St. John.”
Arianna reached into her pocket and pulled out an ID. “Mackenzie Smith definitely got a license, bruh.”
Royce took the license from her and looked at it. It was clearly for someone else, and Arianna had replaced their picture with hers. A quick look might be enough to pass, but anyone scrutinizing it would know it was a fake.
He held it up for her to take back. “You gonna get popped with that. Should’ve gone to Miss Jones to make you one.”
“Miss Jones up the river. Someone snitched on her.”
“Yikes.”
“Alright, anyway, let’s go,” Arianna said, standing up abruptly. “A bitch hungry and I know y’all got a Wingstop or something out here.”
“I ain’t going anywhere,” Royce said, shaking his head.
“Yes, you are,” Arianna said, her voice firm.
“Come on, Royce. We just want to spend time with you,” Toni said. “We feel like we lost you, too, but you’re right here.”
He scratched at his temple, debating it. It was already the most he’d spoken in months. It was also the first time he felt like he was around people who weren’t looking down on him, or that he was somewhere that he didn’t belong.
Sighing, he stood up gingerly, swatting away Toni and Arianna when they both went to help him.
Arianna smiled. “That Blue Store place niggas always talking about around here?”
“I don’t know,” Royce said as he bent down to pick up his phone.
“We’ll ask Rana.”
As Arianna walked out of the room, followed by Toni, Mike-Mike hung back. Royce eyed him as he stared at the floor.
“It’s alright, lil’ cuz,” Royce said, giving him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.
Mike-Mike nodded before giving Royce a side hug and motioning for him to lead the way out of the room.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Nah, this shit really fucking me up. What does Tyrell do exactly? Sell dope?” Arianna asked, taking a sip from a small bottle of Fireball.
Royce shook his head as he stared out into the massive backyard he’d become used to seeing. “He works at a plant on the river out in Geismar. He’s an engineer or some shit, not like a grunt nigga turning valves and getting dirty in the heat.”
“I need to come up here after I graduate and find me one of these engineer niggas then,” Arianna said, laughing.
“All his boys shit like that, too. Engineers, accountants, lawyers, that rich people shit. Be talking about their vacation homes and shit. Motherfuckers went to Costa Rica last year. I think they always surprised that I’m related to Rana and Roni.”
“Just because they got fancy jobs doesn’t mean they didn’t start out just like us,” Toni said, picking at a chicken wing. “I’m not going to lie. You should take advantage of that shit. You know it’s all about who you know. White people do it.”
Royce scoffed. “Take advantage of it to do what? I ain’t engineer smart.”
“Didn’t Tyrell get you in touch with some football coaches?”
“The only person out here playing football anymore is Mike-Mike,” Royce said, gesturing to his younger cousin who was sitting against the deck railing, feeling the effects of the daiquiri they’d gotten him. “They told me my footballs day done.”
Royce tried to sound nonchalant about it, but it still gnawed at him every day that he could no longer do the one thing that he really enjoyed. He couldn’t even go play a pickup game in the park. The best he could do was play Madden and that didn’t even appeal to him anymore.
“So, where they got you going to school out here?” Arianna said, changing the subject. “Don’t tell me Rana got you at a Catholic school like Roni.”
“U-High. University Lab School or whatever the fuck its actual name is. Some magnet shit on LSU’s campus,” he said, shaking his head as he thought about the school and how different it was from Terrebonne.
“Sound like it’s a lot of white people there.”
“It is.”
“They football team good though,” Mike-Mike said before taking a sip from the daiquiri.
Royce nodded. “State champions and shit regularly. They recruit though. Just get the best players, stick them right outside LSU and then LSU comes and gets the best of them.”
“You start fucking those dude’s girlfriends yet like you used to do back home? You know, being you’re a dirty negro and all that,” Toni said, laughing.
He sucked his teeth. “These three people always in my shit talking to me and they the only ones who do so no. I ain’t trying to do that anyway. I’m trying to go back to the bricks at the end of the year. I ain’t trying to stay here.”
“It might not be all that bad to graduate here.”
Royce looked at Toni, flashing back to their conversation about their futures. It seemed a lifetime ago. He didn’t feel as if he had one anymore. That future died on the operating table back in October. He was destined for a mediocre dead-end job now.
“I bet the parades up here lit, though,” Arianna said, mentioning the approaching Mardi Gras season. “You should ask them people who talk to you where the best spots at so we can come through.”
“I ain’t going to no Mardi Gras parade up here. They ain’t even got parades on Tuesday. Shit’s booty,” Royce said. “If I’m going, I’m going in Houma.”
“Deshawn got a spot by the mall,” Toni said.
“He would have a fucking spot by the mall. At least go downtown and pretend you not scared of Black folks.”
“He’s not.”
Royce and Arianna shared a look and started laughing as Toni protested.
It was the first time he’d laughed since that night.
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djp73
- Posts: 13183
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
Dying to Live
Alright. Maybe the cousins will get him back
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Soapy
- Posts: 16591
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 18:42
Dying to Live
that first run fit gonna have that boy shitting down his legs
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Captain Canada
- Posts: 7850
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Dying to Live
Finally some positivity. This dude been on suicide watch for the last four updates.
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16842
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
Dying to Live
Caught in the Lie
Royce sat alone in the wide and spacious backyard behind an opulent house, his back toward a shed to keep everyone in front of him. It’d only been a few days since his cousins’ visit, and for a while, he had felt something shift inside him. But now, as he returned to the stranger in the group, surrounded by people he didn’t know, who didn’t know him, the old weight of isolation had settled back onto his shoulders.
He rolled an unopened beer bottle across the patio table next to him, his other hand brushing against the soft cast on his leg which he’d propped up on another chair, using it as an excuse to keep his distance from everyone else. Malik, Alix and Jonah had somehow convinced him to come to a kick-back with them. He’d chalked up his agreement to a lingering high from being around Arianna, Toni and Mike-Mike.
Now, he regretted his decision.
In fact, he’d regretted it as soon as the trio pulled up to Rana’s house in Alix’s fairly new Nissan, the first reminder of the night that he was in a different world.
But once they’d gotten to the house, which sat in a gated neighborhood at the bottom of Baton Rouge’s prestigious Highland Road, he felt the urge to call and Uber to sneak back across town. If it weren’t for his fear that walking back through the house alone would end with him face down on the pavement with a couple sheriff’s deputies’ boots in his back.
The view he’d developed that the kids at U-High had rich kid aura around them had been shattered by many of the others at the party, students at Catholic High and St. Joseph’s, sister private schools in the city with one catering to only boys and the other all girls. It wasn’t a stretch to say that he, Malik and a couple other guys of similar complexion stood out like sore thumbs.
They reminded him of Britni.
And it reminded him of Romeo.
He thought he was on the road to doing better mentally, but sitting there surrounded by people who reminded him of days before, only made him feel more disconnected.
“You gonna sit over here all night?” Malik asked, falling into a chair on the opposite side of the table. He waited a moment for Royce to answer but shrugged when he didn’t. He pointed to the bottle that Royce was rolling around. “You could at least crack one of those open so you ain’t an option to be the D-D if Alix gets too drunk.”
Royce tapped on the cast.
“Oh, right. You probably on some meds for that shit.”
“It’s my right foot. I ain’t driving no one nowhere,” Royce said, his voice flat.
Malik snapped and pointed at Royce. “I ain’t even think about that. When you right, you right. You better get up off your ass and hop on one of these bitches for the night before they all get snatched up though. Unless you scared of pussy.”
He laughed at his own joke and held his hands up. “My bad if you saving yourself for marriage or something.”
Royce shook his head. Of the three, he’d found that he spoke to Malik the most – little as that was. Likely because he seemed like someone he would’ve hung out with back in Houma. It helped that Malik played football.
“Y’all not prime rib out here?” Royce said, gesturing to Malik and the three other Black guys in the backyard. “I mean, if you not afraid you’re going to end up on the ten o’clock news getting led away in handcuffs.”
“I’m not even gonna hold you, brudda. I done fucked just about every girl out here and them niggas probably have, too. These bitches go to St. Joe’s. That’s seven or eight hours with nothing but other bitches. If they got any kind of extra shit they do after school? Shit. Only dudes they seeing related to them. They don’t call them St. Joe’s hoes for nothing.”
Royce nodded, the dots connecting in his head. “I guess it don’t matter if it’s a bunch of Carlton Banks ass niggas either.”
Malik scoffed. “Bruh, nothing but niggas who grew up on big ass blocks of government cheese and Mini Spooners back here.”
The reference to WIC had Royce raising an eyebrow.
“C’mon, dog. I know they recruited athletes in high school back in Houma.”
That comment had Royce sucking his teeth in frustration.
“Bruh, it’s 2024. You might not want to tell people where you from, but it’s nothing to put ‘Royce Lafitte’ in Google. Only got one of you,” Malik said, waving off Royce’s protests. “I ain’t gonna ask you about it, but we ain’t all that different.” He pointed to the others. “And that includes them.”
“Yeah? You got shot before?”
“Fuck no. I know how to zig instead of zagging,” Malik said, laughing at the attempt at a joke. “But I ain’t from no place like this. I grew up in Zion City. One day, my daddy told me I was going to start going to U-High and we moved to an apartment off Government. People still be pissing in the stairwells, but ain’t too many crackheads and haven’t seen no one get killed yet outside the window.”
Malik pointed to one of the three Black guys. “That tall dude? That’s Antoine. Bro a three-star recruit in basketball. Got a couple offers I think. He just a sophomore though. Grew up around where you at. His older brothers some of them Sherwood Landlords type niggas. I think he lives with some white folks in Shenandoah now though.”
Malik gestured to another one, a short and stocky kid. “The fat boy right there is Cordell. We went to Glen Oaks together, but when U-High came knock at my people door, Catholic went to his. He the only Black dude on they offensive line. I don’t think he gonna get offers there though. He ain’t but 5’7” or some shit.”
“Fuck that last nigga, though,” Malik said. “His name Eric, but he think he going league so he go by Poochie.”
“What you got against him?” Royce asked, ignoring that he thought Poochie was a terrible nickname.
“Other than he be cheating on the field? He always trying to fuck Alix.”
“Thought y’all weren’t together.”
“We ain’t, but it’s the principles of the shit.”
Royce let out a snort of a chuckle and shook his head. “This man still in love and shit.”
“Nah. I just don’t like his ass. If it was anyone else, I wouldn’t care but that dude a bitch.”
“Whatever you say, bruh,” Royce said. He scanned the crowd and found Alix had drifted over to Antoine and the two of them were now mid-conversation. “Your girl got a bit of a thing for Black guys, huh?”
Malik sucked his teeth. “Don’t even get me started on that shit. Don’t get her started on it either. She gonna say some shit about Baton Rouge being mostly Black like it ain’t mad white bitches out here that would never.”
“Facts.”
“Anyway, I’ve been warming something up all week that I need to close on so you can keep hanging out over here on the wall like you scared,” Malik said, standing up. He turned back to Royce before he walked away. “But now you know I know ya bitch ass been lying about playing ball, I hope you know I’m gonna be trying to get you out on that field.”
“Doc said I ain’t going nowhere near a football field unless it’s to cut it, bruh,” Royce said, gesturing to his leg and hand.
“Yeah, alright. Like that nigga on the Commanders ain’t get back out there like three weeks after getting popped,” Malik said, heading back into the crowd.
Royce shook his head, going back to rolling the beer bottle around on the table.
Royce sat alone in the wide and spacious backyard behind an opulent house, his back toward a shed to keep everyone in front of him. It’d only been a few days since his cousins’ visit, and for a while, he had felt something shift inside him. But now, as he returned to the stranger in the group, surrounded by people he didn’t know, who didn’t know him, the old weight of isolation had settled back onto his shoulders.
He rolled an unopened beer bottle across the patio table next to him, his other hand brushing against the soft cast on his leg which he’d propped up on another chair, using it as an excuse to keep his distance from everyone else. Malik, Alix and Jonah had somehow convinced him to come to a kick-back with them. He’d chalked up his agreement to a lingering high from being around Arianna, Toni and Mike-Mike.
Now, he regretted his decision.
In fact, he’d regretted it as soon as the trio pulled up to Rana’s house in Alix’s fairly new Nissan, the first reminder of the night that he was in a different world.
But once they’d gotten to the house, which sat in a gated neighborhood at the bottom of Baton Rouge’s prestigious Highland Road, he felt the urge to call and Uber to sneak back across town. If it weren’t for his fear that walking back through the house alone would end with him face down on the pavement with a couple sheriff’s deputies’ boots in his back.
The view he’d developed that the kids at U-High had rich kid aura around them had been shattered by many of the others at the party, students at Catholic High and St. Joseph’s, sister private schools in the city with one catering to only boys and the other all girls. It wasn’t a stretch to say that he, Malik and a couple other guys of similar complexion stood out like sore thumbs.
They reminded him of Britni.
And it reminded him of Romeo.
He thought he was on the road to doing better mentally, but sitting there surrounded by people who reminded him of days before, only made him feel more disconnected.
“You gonna sit over here all night?” Malik asked, falling into a chair on the opposite side of the table. He waited a moment for Royce to answer but shrugged when he didn’t. He pointed to the bottle that Royce was rolling around. “You could at least crack one of those open so you ain’t an option to be the D-D if Alix gets too drunk.”
Royce tapped on the cast.
“Oh, right. You probably on some meds for that shit.”
“It’s my right foot. I ain’t driving no one nowhere,” Royce said, his voice flat.
Malik snapped and pointed at Royce. “I ain’t even think about that. When you right, you right. You better get up off your ass and hop on one of these bitches for the night before they all get snatched up though. Unless you scared of pussy.”
He laughed at his own joke and held his hands up. “My bad if you saving yourself for marriage or something.”
Royce shook his head. Of the three, he’d found that he spoke to Malik the most – little as that was. Likely because he seemed like someone he would’ve hung out with back in Houma. It helped that Malik played football.
“Y’all not prime rib out here?” Royce said, gesturing to Malik and the three other Black guys in the backyard. “I mean, if you not afraid you’re going to end up on the ten o’clock news getting led away in handcuffs.”
“I’m not even gonna hold you, brudda. I done fucked just about every girl out here and them niggas probably have, too. These bitches go to St. Joe’s. That’s seven or eight hours with nothing but other bitches. If they got any kind of extra shit they do after school? Shit. Only dudes they seeing related to them. They don’t call them St. Joe’s hoes for nothing.”
Royce nodded, the dots connecting in his head. “I guess it don’t matter if it’s a bunch of Carlton Banks ass niggas either.”
Malik scoffed. “Bruh, nothing but niggas who grew up on big ass blocks of government cheese and Mini Spooners back here.”
The reference to WIC had Royce raising an eyebrow.
“C’mon, dog. I know they recruited athletes in high school back in Houma.”
That comment had Royce sucking his teeth in frustration.
“Bruh, it’s 2024. You might not want to tell people where you from, but it’s nothing to put ‘Royce Lafitte’ in Google. Only got one of you,” Malik said, waving off Royce’s protests. “I ain’t gonna ask you about it, but we ain’t all that different.” He pointed to the others. “And that includes them.”
“Yeah? You got shot before?”
“Fuck no. I know how to zig instead of zagging,” Malik said, laughing at the attempt at a joke. “But I ain’t from no place like this. I grew up in Zion City. One day, my daddy told me I was going to start going to U-High and we moved to an apartment off Government. People still be pissing in the stairwells, but ain’t too many crackheads and haven’t seen no one get killed yet outside the window.”
Malik pointed to one of the three Black guys. “That tall dude? That’s Antoine. Bro a three-star recruit in basketball. Got a couple offers I think. He just a sophomore though. Grew up around where you at. His older brothers some of them Sherwood Landlords type niggas. I think he lives with some white folks in Shenandoah now though.”
Malik gestured to another one, a short and stocky kid. “The fat boy right there is Cordell. We went to Glen Oaks together, but when U-High came knock at my people door, Catholic went to his. He the only Black dude on they offensive line. I don’t think he gonna get offers there though. He ain’t but 5’7” or some shit.”
“Fuck that last nigga, though,” Malik said. “His name Eric, but he think he going league so he go by Poochie.”
“What you got against him?” Royce asked, ignoring that he thought Poochie was a terrible nickname.
“Other than he be cheating on the field? He always trying to fuck Alix.”
“Thought y’all weren’t together.”
“We ain’t, but it’s the principles of the shit.”
Royce let out a snort of a chuckle and shook his head. “This man still in love and shit.”
“Nah. I just don’t like his ass. If it was anyone else, I wouldn’t care but that dude a bitch.”
“Whatever you say, bruh,” Royce said. He scanned the crowd and found Alix had drifted over to Antoine and the two of them were now mid-conversation. “Your girl got a bit of a thing for Black guys, huh?”
Malik sucked his teeth. “Don’t even get me started on that shit. Don’t get her started on it either. She gonna say some shit about Baton Rouge being mostly Black like it ain’t mad white bitches out here that would never.”
“Facts.”
“Anyway, I’ve been warming something up all week that I need to close on so you can keep hanging out over here on the wall like you scared,” Malik said, standing up. He turned back to Royce before he walked away. “But now you know I know ya bitch ass been lying about playing ball, I hope you know I’m gonna be trying to get you out on that field.”
“Doc said I ain’t going nowhere near a football field unless it’s to cut it, bruh,” Royce said, gesturing to his leg and hand.
“Yeah, alright. Like that nigga on the Commanders ain’t get back out there like three weeks after getting popped,” Malik said, heading back into the crowd.
Royce shook his head, going back to rolling the beer bottle around on the table.
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djp73
- Posts: 13183
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
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Captain Canada
- Posts: 7850
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Dying to Live
Seeds been planted, let's go.