22 comments/ 38761 views/ 49 favorites Skin to Skin Ch. 02 By: MimiRose Author's Note: I've done a very naughty thing. It's definitely on the "What Not To Do" list that I'm sure all writers have. I am posting this part of the story without my editor's (a.k.a. my beta) knowledge. I KNOW! I KNOW! I KNOW! It's totally wrong of me. As I mentioned in the comment section for the first chapter of "Skin to Skin", I have changed the ending to this short story, which inadvertently made the story longer in length. So this chapter is the second chapter... out of three chapters. The third chapter is finished. Now, my lazy ass just have to type it up and have it edited... if I still have an editor. Sorry, emeraldmbuku! Okay, "warning-parental advisory" time! In this chapter of "Skin to Skin" there is some violence (which is why it is posted in the 'Non Consensual/Reluctance' category'). It is nothing to horrible. Just some flogging. So, if you're uncomfortable reading about beatings, then I suggest for you to skip the some sections of the chapter. ************************************ "Wake up," I heard a voice whisper into my left ear. I groaned in response and turned my face away from the bothersome object. Then I felt something grab my chin and turn my face back into that direction. "Wake up, baby." "No," I groaned. I had gone to push the offending person away from me, but I couldn't move my hand. Hell, I couldn't move my whole arm. 'What the fuck...' I tried to move the other arm and it couldn't move either. "What the fuck," my mouth had spoken. I opened my eyes, only to see me; well actually, it was my reflection. There was a giant mirror mounted on the ceiling, above his bed. 'How freaky,' I concluded. Then I remembered the events that had taken place before I passed out from his chokehold. My fear re-emerged. I started to struggle for my freedom. I was thrashing against the bed as I tried to free my hands from their bindings. I tried freeing myself by slamming the metal chain, which connected the cuffs, against the headboard's metal dowels. I hoped that one of the metal links from the chain would break apart and then I would be able to free myself. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK..." I screamed in frustration as I jerked my arms. I failed with each attempt. After experiencing failure for so many attempts, I stopped struggling. My wrists ached and I was sure that I managed to nick the flesh on my wrists. The biceps in each of my arms was sore. My lungs were feeling as if I had just run the ING New York City Marathon. I felt tingly all over as well. I didn't want to stop attempting to remove the handcuffs, but my arms were hurting. Plus, I didn't want to cause a muscle strain or worse. So, I lied back down on the mattress and relaxed my limbs. It was during my moment of resting, when I started to focus on the ceiling's mirror. It was because of the mirror, I learnt a couple of things about my current state of being. I was naked as the day that I was born. My legs weren't bound. In fact, they were open, in a lewd way, spread-eagle style. I immediately closed them tightly. "Oh--- "Tsk, tsk, tsk, don't you dare." I turned my head and looked to my left, only to see Malachi lying beside me, in bed. There was almost a foot of space in between our bodies. He was lying on his side, facing me and staring at me with intensity. His eyes no longer appeared soft and the eye color wasn't a pale shade of grey. Now, his irises' color were silver and there wasn't a single iota of warmth in them. He looked angry, but I didn't feel any angry vibes radiating from him. "Malachi--- "You don't know how much you're turning me on right now," he declared. Now he has managed to receive my full, undivided attention. His declaration of having lust for me also gotten something else's attention. I felt my clit swell in excitement. Then there was a dull throbbing occurring in between my lower lips and it increased by every passing millisecond. I crossed my legs at the ankles and squeezed my thighs by contracting the muscles inside of my thighs. I tried to reduce the sensation. I noticed that his eyes had left my face and stared at my thighs. A smirk and then a chuckled escaped his lips as he stared at the legs. I blushed as I felt ashamed for my body's reaction. "You have a beautiful tattoo," he said to me and then begun to explore the artwork, by touching the tattoo with his fingertips. Goose pimples had grown onto my skin as his fingers traced the outline of my tattoo. "When did you get it done?" "W-w-when... What did you say?" I asked, heavily distracted by his caress. I heard another one of his infamous chuckles. His fingers stopped admiring the colorful fish and came to rest on my lower belly. "I asked you, when did you get your tattoo?" 'What the fuck is going on?' my conscience screamed. 'This crazy motherfucker had just kidnapped you and he's about to rape you...' "A-about three years ago, when I was on Spring Break, in San Francisco," I answered. 'And yet, your dumb ass answered his question as if you two are having a nice conversation while sitting in the a park!' Malachi grunted in response. Then, I felt the old mattress shake. My eyes moved in their sockets and stared at him. He was in the process of scooting his big ass closer to the area where I was laying. He went back to lying on his side and placed his hand back on my stomach. He also, thanks to his new position on the bed, his face was a few inches away from my left breast. He resumed his conversation. "Was this the trip that you had taken with Lynn?" My nipple puckered, once it felt the warm air from his breath. I was a witness to his ogling of my tit's reaction to his innocuous ministration. In response, the tip of his tongue drew a circle around my nipple, before taking the hard piece of flesh into his mouth. His lips, tongue and teeth worked over the sensitive flesh for a few seconds before releasing it. My clit pulsed as he sucked on my turgid skin. 'O.M.G.,' I shouted inside of my mind. I had to bite my full, bottom lip to keep from crying out in pleasure. His hand left its resting place and took a tour of the lower part of my body. First, his fingers were caressing the tops and the outer sides of both of my thighs. A low whimper penetrated itself from my mouth, a result of his ministrations. "No," I sighed. The word came out of my mouth with a gust of air. I didn't realize that I was holding my breath. "Lynn and I had gone to Mexico." "So, how long did this baby take?" he asked, referring to my tattoo. His left hand, the hand that was the curious one, drifted further upwards, onto my torso. He continued his exploration. I felt his fingers make imaginary circles on my stomach and then travel up to my breasts. My nipples tingled with anticipation. I waited for his hands while I held my breath. But before his fingers could make contact, they drifted right back down to my stomach. "It took..." I started out saying, but I ended up losing my voice because it turned into a moan. I heard him chuckle once more. "It took four hours to get it done," I managed to say, in a husky tone. "Did it hurt?" he stopped his rubbing, just so he could stare up at me. 'What the hell?' my brain mumbled. 'What kind of dumb question is that? What the hell do you think?' "What in the hell do you think?" I blurted out to him. "I would rather get a pap smear by a blind man than to experience that pain again!" I realized what I had done. Then I let out a squeak of surprise. I wasn't expecting for me to act so sassy towards him, while still being in this state. His response was a laugh, one of those types of laughs that come from the deep part of a person's soul. Then I was rewarded with the ability to see a full-blown smile from Malachi. The smile made my heart fluttered. With that smile, he looked like the Malachi that I knew from yester-year. He reminded me of the sweet boy, who protected both me and Lenora from neighborhood bullies. The boy who made Lenora and I grilled cheese sandwiches, as well as, baby-sat us latch-key kids until our mamas had come home from their perspective jobs. He looked like the same boy who helped me and his sister, when we asked him. When Lynn and I were ten years old, we wanted to perform a B-Girl routine for our elementary school's annual "Student Talent Show" (please, don't judge us). Malachi offered to help us. He was the kid who taught us how to do the 'down rock' and the 'top rock' as well as, other dance moves. As he smiled, he reminded me of the same boy who held me in his arms and consoled me, after I learned that my father refused to develop a familial relationship with me. 'Oh my sweetness,' I thought as I stared at him. 'He could cause me a bunch of troubles, but all he has to do is smile at me and I melt like butter.' He sat up and straddled my thighs. He peeled off his tank top and tossed it onto the floor. I, then, became an eye-fucking rapist once again as I unashamedly stared up at his physique. My eyes briefly stared at the swastika tattoo that he had on his left pectoral. There were defined pectoral muscles, four rows of defined abdominal muscles that made me want to lick or take a bite out of each one and he possessed that 'v' thing that a lot of sculpted men possess. He definitely was making good use of that weight set. Malachi silently stared down at me for a moment. After a minute of his appraisal, I became unease. Suddenly, he ended the silence. "I always thought you were strong," he stated before laying his body on top of mine and having his mouth possessed mine. At the touch of his lips, I immediately felt relief and it felt like a heavy burden was lifted off of my shoulders. This moment, laying here with Malachi, was a fantasy of mine, back from my teenaged years. Now, it was a part of my reality. 'Please don't let this be another one of those fucking dreams,' I silently hoped, as we made out. At first, his kisses were light, almost as if they were non-existent, like they were a part of my imagination. Then, when our tongues made contact, our kisses turned from sweet into passion-fueled ones. I felt his lust, as well as, his desire for me. Realizing that I was withholding my ability to breathe, I broke away by turning my face slightly away. I saw him silently questioning my actions. "I needed to breathe," I said to him, with a slight smile while feeling a little embarrassed. He gave me a peck on my lips and sensual kisses along my jaw line until he reached my neck. Malachi's left hand was pressed against the mattress, in an effort to support his weight, while his right hand was gently pressed against my neck. He gently nudged my head up, so my neck was at his disposal. "Oh shit," I loudly moaned, as his mouth did some things to that sensitive part of my neck that was going to leave one hell of a hickey. The small knot that contained the bundle of nerves inside of my lower lips continued to pulse. I felt light-headed and my body's temperature increased into dangerous territory. "You like that," he declared into my left ear. His voice was an octave lower and it caused my body to shiver in delight. "Yeah," I moaned. Then, he resumed with his work. I totally forgot that my hands were bound to the headboard, so when I went to gather Malachi's hair in my hands, a loud noise had rang out. The abrupt noise distracted Malachi. I watched him stare at my wrists and at the headboard for a moment. "You wanna be release?" Malachi inquired staring at me with those beautiful eyes of his. I whimpered and nodded my head. "Okay," he murmured. Malachi rolled his big frame from me and then off of the king-sized bed. He walked across from where the bed was standing, over to a bookcase that was in the corner. I stared at his sweat pants-covered ass, as he traveled over there. He grabbed something small off the shelf and came back to the side of his bed. Hovering over me, he freed my wrists from their bondage and I exhaled. I rotated my wrists in effort to get the kinks out and I sat upright to do the same for my shoulders. "Better?" I heard him asked me. I nodded my head. The thought of how things drastically changed between us, briefly entered my mind. Quickly, I shut down those thoughts and decided to not to ruin the moment. He sat next to me, at the edge of the bed. He gathered my hair in one of his hands and draped it over my left shoulder. Then, he proceeded to give me a neck and shoulder massage. I groaned in gratitude and from pleasure. "You like that, baby?" he asked into right ear, as he was massaging away the tension and ache in my shoulders. Then, his hands drifted down to my back and he focused on the muscles there. Unconsciously, I started to roll my hips in slow circles. I could feel my engorged, wet pussy rub up against the blanket that was on the bed. "Yeah," I moaned out. His hands drifted down my back, down to the spot that is right above the crack of my ass and started to apply pressure there. "Oh," I groaned, as I spun my hips in fast, tight little circles. The rough surface of the comforter was causing tiny pin pricks of pleasure inside of my clit. A familiar sweet scent had greeted my nose and I brought my right fingers down to collect some. I heard a noise behind me, which sounded like a grunt, as I stuck my fingers into my mouth and sucked the flavor off. "Shit," I heard I him hissed. A small tight-lipped smile grew on my mouth, in response to his reaction. The mattress shook from when he stood up from the bed. Then he gripped my forearms and lifted me up into a kneeling position on the bed. I gasped in shock and then whimpered in disappointment from not being able to cum. He took my right hand into his left one and placed my index, middle and ring finger into his mouth. I felt like his wet tongue lap at my fingers and the slight 'push--and-pull' of the suction that he was creating. I hoped that his mouth could give the same suction on my pussy. I could feel my pussy cream, at the thought. I damned near came from that feeling alone. He released my fingers from his mouth with audible 'pop'. Malachi released my hand from his clutch. His hands took a hold of my hips and pulled me closer to his body. I felt this hardness of his fit body against my bare, soft flesh, as well as, the hard bulge that was covered in cotton that was pressed against my lower belly. "You taste sweet," he whispered, before he brought his mouth down onto mine. He showered me with soft pecks and then took a hold of my bottom lip with this teeth and gave it a gentle nip. In return, I gave him a kiss. As we kissed, my hands caressed his muscled arms, feeling every bulge and every dip. My hands traveled further up, to his shoulders and down his chest. My fingernails lightly scratched his skin along the way down. A groan and a pelvis bump against my stomach was his response. 'I see you like that one; I wonder how you are going to feel about this.' The tips of my nails traveled down to the waistband of his pants, only to return back to his pecs, where I proceeded to tantalize his nipples. Another groan erupted from his body. My fingernails drew circles around the dark-colored patches of skin and slowly scraped across his nipples. The pelvic grinding became rapid. I removed my hands away from his chest and I slipped my right hand in between our bodies, down to the elastic waist band of his sweat pants. I slipped two fingers inside of his pants and loosen the waist by untying the knot done to the drawstring. Without any visual aid, I pushed his sweatpants down as much as I could and his boxer-briefs followed suit. His dick sprang free and Malachi groaned in gratitude. I didn't have to take a gander at his dick to know that he was working with some impressive equipment. Once my hand grabbed a hold of it, I discovered that I needed to use my other hand as well. My fingers barely wrapped themselves around his dick, because it was so thick. Using deliberate slow strokes with my hands, I gave him as much pleasure with the best of my abilities. I assumed that I was doing an awesome job because he stopped kissing me and he fell into a pleasure-induced stupor. His head tilted back, his eyes were half closed and his jaw was slack. "You like this, baby?" I asked, with a smirk on my face, amused at his reaction. His only reply was a tweak of his right eyebrow and a grunt. "Well, I'm about to make you feel real good baby," I promised. First, I gave him a peck on the chin and then a sweet smooch on the pulse point of his neck. My tongue gave each of his auburn-colored nipples a few licks, before making the descent down to his abdominals. I had to re-position myself in order to enjoy what I wanted to do to him. Now, I sat at the edge of the mattress, with my feet planted on the ground. I let go of his erect member and placed my hands on his waist. I ran my tongue along the ridges of his muscles, enjoying the feeling of the muscles against my tongue. His stomach muscles contracted. I felt the tip of dick rubbed up against the bottom of my jaw, spreading its pre-cum on my skin and begging for my attention. My right hand gave him a few strokes and Malachi groaned once more. After providing his torso with a make shift tongue bath, I brought my plush lips to that nifty corners of the legs, where the thighs connect to the groin. I gave a kiss to each side and then a little nip. His body jolted with each nip. It was my turn to chuckle. "Baby, I need your lips on my cock right now," he grunted. "Be patient," I notified him, sweetly. He growled in irritation. Now, ever since I was sitting in a new position, I finally am having a 'face-to-face' with his dick. First thing I noticed was the patch of bright red public hair, which caused me to giggle. The color of his pubic hair is a major contrast to the light and bright blonde hair that is on top of his head. "What's so fucking funny?" I heard him asked. There was some harshness in his voice, which caused me to stare up at his face. He was staring down at me, as I was staring up at him. 'Shit, he looks offended; he probably thinks that I am laughing about his dick size.' Trust me when I say this, there is nothing funny about his dick. Just like the rest of his body, it is beautiful. His prick felt wonderful in between my hands. It was hard yet soft like a steel rod. I assumed that his cock was, at least, eight inches long and the thickness of that pretty motherfucker had to measure at 3 inches. The head of his cock had a similar shape like the top of a mushroom and it had the coloring of a pale shade of purple. The shaft's coloring had gone from a deep shade of red and gradually turned into the coloring of white, just like the rest of his body. Running down the shaft of his dick were three prominent veins, which made it look vigorous. So, no, Malachi's cock is not laughter-inducing. "Nothing, Blondie," I said, sweetly with a smile on my face. I placed my hands at the base of his cock and stroke up the shaft until I hit the rim of the head. I watched his eyes fluttered close and trembling gasp escaped his lips. My smile widened. "You were laughing about something," stated Malachi, after he gained his control. "What was it about?" He was staring down at me like he was a scolding parent. To avoid having an argument with him, just when I am about to suck his dick, I made up a lie. "I was thinking about what is going to be the expression on your face when I do this..." and then I licked around the rim of that mushroom-shaped cap of his dick. He had let out a groan with a shudder. I drew the head into my mouth and proceeded to suck on the sponge-like skin. I slid his shaft further into my mouth, sucking at the skin along the way, until the head struck my gag reflexes, then I withdrew his dick out of my mouth entirely. Skin to Skin Ch. 02 "Keep going," he grunted out and his grabbed a hold of the back of my head, for emphasis. I gave his face a glimpse, before resuming. Eventually, I managed to curb my gag reflex and that was when the fun really begun. Hearing his groans and words of encouragement, spurned me on. I explored his balls with my mouth and with my tongue, as I stroked his shaft with my hand. The act of fellatio has caused my pussy to become wetter. With every pull of my mouth, I felt my clit become more engorged and the swelling eventually became too painful. I had to soothe the discomfort by rubbing on my clit. I knew from hearing the constant groaning that was coming from Malachi, I knew he was approaching his orgasm. "I'm cumming," he announced, which didn't surprise me ever since I felt his big egg-shape nuts tightening up in my hand. Then, I felt his hands tighten its clasp my head and he went on to fuck my face. Soon, a thunderous roar from Malachi announced his eruption. His thick, salty seed had coated the inside of my mouth. I swallowed the first batch of his spunk. But with the three other doses, I tried my best to swallow it all. I felt most of it spill out of my mouth. After going through his last tremor, he removed his flaccid member from my mouth. Using my fingers, I wiped the corners of my mouth and licked away his seed from my fingers. "Shit," he started out saying as he pulled his sweatpants and underwear back up. He sat down on the edge of his bed, next to me and lay back onto the mattress. "And here I thought you colored girls didn't give blow jobs!" he teased with a smile on his face. Something about his joke didn't sit well with me. Malachi's barb had infuriated me. It's not the first time that I heard a joke about sistas who don't like to give head. I think I was upset because I resided in a bedroom that would give Bull Conner a woody and I just gave a man a blow job, a man who had a swastika symbol tattooed on his left pectoral. Like I said before, I grew furious. I was so furious, in fact, I... "FUCK YOU!" I screamed at him as I slammed my fist into his solar plexus. He grunted in pain and went into a fetal position as he tried to endure through the pain. I, on the other hand, stood across the room and I faced the bed as I dressed in my pajamas. "FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! You know what? The next time you want your dick suck motherfucker, I advise you to get one of those trailer park-white trash bitches to suck your dick!" I shouted at his coiled up form. I slipped into my robe as I screamed, "Fuck you, Malachi and I hope I never see your pale, rotten ass again!" After slipping my arms inside of the sleeves of my robe, I trekked over to his bedroom's door to make an exit out of that damned room. In my haze of fury, I wasn't paying any attention to either Malachi or to his actions. I was busy trying to unlock the bedroom's door. My fingers unlocked each of the door's fastenings while I mumbled curse words underneath my breath. When I unlocked the last one, I turned the door knob and pulled. The door opened at the bottom, which meant that there was another lock on the door. I glanced up the door and found where he had placed a fourth lock. It was near the top of the door that was out of my grasp. The lock wasn't a typical lock. It was latch and nozzle type of lock; the type used for padlocks and like the lock used for this door: a combination lock. I felt dreadful. I felt like my heart dropped into my stomach. The sound of loud, heavy metal music rang through the air and it frightened me. I must've leapt about a foot off of the floor, as a result. The music was the type of heavy metal where the singer was shouting instead of singing and there were emphasis on the tempo of the music, as well as, on the guitar riffs. The music was so loud and raucous that I couldn't hear my thoughts much less hear my screams. I backed away from the door and made my way across the bedroom to a small rectangle-shaped, window. "HELP," I screamed as loud I could, as I bang on the window with my fists. The loud music drowned out my screams. I glanced over my shoulder to look at Malachi, to see where he was located in the room. He disappeared. Then I saw a source of light coming out of the walk-in closet that was built underneath the staircase. It was the same staircase that led upstairs to the first floor to my sanctuary. I turned my attention back to basement's window. I used my right fist to knock on the window's pane. "HELP ME PLEASE!" I shouted. "HEL— Just like the refrigerator incident that taken place earlier that morning, I was pulled away by the strong, evil force that was Malachi Patrick. This time, he had slipped a thick leather strap around my neck and he dragged me away from the window, by pulling on the strap. My hands had reached up and grasped onto the strap. I pulled on the strap in order to remove the strap from off of my neck. "No!" I squealed. He pulled the strap so hard that I lost my balance and fell on the floor. He dragged me across the floor, back to his bed. I was left lying on the ground by the side of the bed. I tucked my limbs closer to my torso. As I lied in the fetal position, I cried. I was crying because I was afraid. The notion that he was going to kill me was soiling my mind. As I lied there, I sensed that he wasn't near me but I knew that he was still inside of the basement. Eventually, I figured where he walked off after I heard the music's volume lower down to a tolerable pace. Then, I heard footsteps. He walked back over to me and stood beside my crumpled, frightened form. "Get up," he commanded. His voice was void of emotion, which made me believe that he was going to kill me, have sex with my corpse and dump my body in a landfill. "Malachi, please don't--" I begged, in a pathetic whimper. "Get up or I'll do it and trust me, you don't want me to do that," he growled. I heard myself let out a wail of anguish. "Chloe, get your ass up!" he shouted at me. I groaned. I managed to get onto my hands and knees, before I was able to get up on my own two feet. I felt the leather strap, which turned out to be a belt, fall onto the floor. "Good," he grunted. "Now take off your clothes," he demanded. "Please," I pleaded. Malachi gave me a back-handed slap on my right cheek, as an answer. The slap was so hard that I stumbled a few steps to the left. The pain on the right side of my face caused new tears to spring up. "SHUT THE FUCK UP AND DO AS I SAY!" Malachi shouted at me. "NOW GET UNDRESSED!" He grabbed a large chunk of my hair and pulled tightly. "Get undress and I don't want to hear another word out of your fucking mouth. Now do it," he growled. He let go of my hair and gave me slap at the back of my head. I sobbed a few seconds more, before I obeyed. Malachi sat on the edge of his bed and stared at me. I found his unwavering stare intimidating. A cold shiver ran down my back as a result. I looked away from him and I turned slightly. My hands trembled as I slipped out of my bath robe. 'I can't believe this shit,' my mind sobbed, as I slipped out of my baby doll nightgown. Despite my previous experience of being nude in front of him, I felt self-conscious this time. I tried my best to cover myself up with using just my hands. It didn't stop Malachi from ogling me. Judging by the bulge that was resting against his right thigh, I assumed that he enjoyed the view. "Good," he mumbled. "Now, get on the bed." "Okay," I managed to whisper in between some sobs. I made my over to the bed. With caution, I brushed past him as I climbed on the bed. I lied down in the center of the mattress, on my back. I was greeted by the mirror once again after I lied down. I stared up at my reflection from the ceiling mirror. "No. I want you lying on your stomach," he instructed. I whimpered "okay" and I turned onto my stomach, just like he instructed. I turned my head to the right, so I wouldn't smother myself. The left side of my face was pressed against a pillow. The cool-tempered, pillowcase felt great against my face. "Place your hands above your head." I followed his instructions and I placed my hands above my head. I heard him get off of the bed. Then he returned to the bed. The mattress trembled every time he moved. He ended up straddling my waist. He grabbed onto my left wrist and slapped ½ of a pair of handcuffs on me. I watched him maneuver the cuffs through the metal bars of the head board, before he slapped the other cuff on my right wrist. Unlike the first pair of handcuffs that I had on, this pair had a longer chain, so I was able to move my arms more freely. After he made sure that I was secure, I felt his hands trail from my wrists, down my arms, to my shoulders and their journeys ended at the base of my spine. The mattress shook as he changed positions once more. I couldn't feel any of his body parts on mine, but I did feel his energy which was nearby. 'What is he planning on doing to me?' A few seconds after I pondered, I felt something that was roughly textured and wet touch the sensitive flesh that covered the back of my left knee. The unknown object moved and created a path that led up my left thigh. It wasn't until the alien-like object reached the curve of my left buttock that I realized it was the tip of his tongue. 'Oh my...' my brain sighed as I clenched my ass as a result of his tongue's ministrations. Malachi's tongue expanded its horizons and began to apply broad strokes against the curve in my back. His tongue reached the base of my neck and then made a U-Turn and descended down my back. Despite his lascivious and lustful intentions, I was still terrified of him. I didn't find his oral tactics arousing and titillating at first. My captor grabbed my round and full hips with his hands. He gave my hips a tough squeeze. I flinched in shock. I expected for Malachi to hit me. He held on my hips for a moment and then those suckers left my hips and landed on my lower cheeks. He gave the plump flesh a squeeze and then a jiggle, as if he was playing with a pair of filled up water balloons. I felt his thumbs slip in between the cleft of my ass. I gasped in surprise from the sudden intrusion. He spread my lower cheeks apart to reveal my 'brown eye' for his viewing. A scary notion of what he was about to do with my anal cavity filled my mind and I grew terrified. I wiggled my hips and tried to remove my ass from out of his grasp. Malachi's grip only tightened more on my body. 'NO!' my brain screamed in terror. "No please," I whimpered. He ignored my plea. He continued to stare at my intimate part. A few seconds after I had spoken, I heard a snorting sound and then a hacking. Then, I heard the crude sound of his spit leaving his mouth. I felt the hot, wet substance a few milliseconds later. My pleas increased. "Sssshhhhh...." He 'shushed' me as he continued to pry me apart. Then, I felt his three fingertips brush against the thin and sensitive flesh that connected my asshole to my pussy. His fingertips were gently stroking at the sensitive flesh. His light-weight caresses caused a strong ripple of pleasure. In reaction to his touches, my asshole puckered up and my hips made a twitching motion. I let out a trembling sigh. His fingertips remained on my taint as I trembled against his mattress. "There you go," I heard Malachi say in a soothing tone of voice. His fingertips drifted down to my drenched cunt. His fingertips drew invisible circles around the entrance of my cunt's hole. His fingertip lightly touched me, in a taunting way. "Aaaaahhhh..." I squealed, a side effect from the pleasure that I was experiencing. "Yeah, keep on baby. Show me how much you want me to finger-fuck you," he instructed. His fingertips dipped into my pussy. The three fingertips did a few strokes before he shoved the entire three digits into my pussy. My reaction was simultaneous: my upper body jerked, I moaned into the pillow and my hips lifted off of the mattress while my pleasure burned in my lower region. "Malachi," I groaned. "Sssssshhhh..." The fingers on his hand fucked me by using short, nerve-stimulating and quick thrusts. I felt his lips kissing on my cheeks and his teeth biting down on the flesh. Quickly and surprisingly, I had become a wanton, cock-hungry slut for him. I was aroused again. I was ready for his dick. My upper body pressed to the mattress whiles my ass was propped up in the air and displaying my shaven cunt to Malachi. "Malachi, aaahhh, ummm, fuck me..." I was about to reach my peak when he stopped. I felt my climax brimming to the top. I was about to reach it, when he stopped. I felt his fingers slipped out of my gash. I felt empty. Then, I began to feel cold after Malachi moved his body away from mine. The mattress tremble as his weight shifted on the furniture. I listened to his footsteps as he walked away from the bed. 'Where is he going?' I lifted my head off of the pillow and I made an attempt at trying to glance at Malachi. My movement was limited and I was unable to see him. I laid my head on the pillow. Then I remembered I was still handcuffed to the headboard. I grew concerned for my well-being. I knew that I was in a vulnerable position. 'What the hell is he planning on doing to me?' I wondered. I didn't have to wait too long for that answer. CRACK! For a millisecond, a white light clouded my vision. Hot, fat tears sprung the corners of my eyes. All of the air in my lungs had left those organs, once I felt that hot pain whip across my ass and lower back. Before I could feel this pain dissipate, Malachi had struck me again. CRACK! A hoarse gasp and then a scream ripped through me as I felt another belt lashing and soon another scream, when I felt another lashing. It turned into a series of harsh lashings. You would think Malachi would've showed me mercy, after hearing my shrieks, but it seemed to inspire him even more. I don't know how long he whipped me, but it felt like an eternity. Every second felt like a minute and with every minute that had gone by, it felt like an hour. By the time the beating stopped, I was a blubbering, sobbing mess. The flesh on my back and buttocks had turned numb. The angry-sounding rock music was no longer playing and there was silence in the room. For a significant amount of time, he left me alone in his room. I was left alone with my crying into a pillow and with the scary thoughts of being murdered. When Malachi returned, he didn't say a word to me. He straddled my battered body once more. He grabbed a handful of my hair and lifted my head off of the pillow. He pressed his forehead against my right temple. I felt the hard bulge of his erect dick pressed up against my lower back. "You wanna know why I beat you with that belt?" There was an abundance of silence for about a minute before I spoke. It wasn't an act of defiance on my behalf. I just had a difficult time being able to form a coherent statement. "Why?" I hiccupped. "That was your punishment for putting your hands on me. Have you learned your lesson?" he asked me. Instead answering his question, a pain-filled sob crept out of my body. It wasn't the answer that he was expecting, so he had yanked my hair harder. I gasped during the pain. I heard Malachi repeat the same question. "Yes, I learned my lesson, Malachi," I whimpered. "What..." Then he proceeded to roughly play my hair, as well as, keep that fucking death grip on it. "...Did you say? I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you. Speak up." "I said, I said that I learned my lesson," I said again, but this time in a louder and clear tone of voice. I heard Malachi give me a laugh, before planting a harsh, wet kiss onto my temple. "Good girl," I heard him say. He released his grip on my hair and I placed my head onto the pillow with an ungraceful drop. I managed to stop crying and now I just rested my head against the pillow. I prayed to God that He would end my life, before this pale bastard does the deed. He removed himself from hovering over me and gotten off the bed. He returned a minute later and straddled my nude form once again. This time I felt his hot, bare flesh pressed up against my bare form. I felt the tip, which belonged to that non-humorous dick of his rubbing against my bare back. Hovering over me, Malachi once again grabbed a clump of my curly, thick hair and lifted my head up off of the pillow. He pulled my head so far back, I am pretty sure that I will have an incredible stiff neck later on in the day. "Goddamned, you are so sexy," he stated, before giving me a dry, chaste peck on the mouth. I didn't respond to his comment, instead I stared at my own reflection. I didn't gaze at his face or even give him a glimpse. I focused my vision on the ceiling's mirror. 'Do you think Malachi is going to kill me?' I wondered. A part of me said that he would, but then I would change my mind. "...don't think so..." Then I would change my mind again. "...He will... He is playing with you in the same way that a cat plays with a mouse... He is going to fuck you and then torture you for a bit before he will slice your fucking throat...' At that moment, my mind's eye had shown me the image of Malachi's pale hand holding a blade to my throat. In reaction, a soft whimper was released from my throat. 'NO,' my conscience screamed at my brain and to my heart. 'DO NOT CRY,' I commanded to myself. 'He is not worth your tears, Chloe! Do not beg for your life! Do not give this... FUCK the satisfaction!' I don't know the exact amount of time in which I stared at myself, but I do know that it was a significant amount. I knew that I worried him with my silence. He went from being cold and evil to sounding apologetic and remorseful suddenly, which was a sign of his mental instability if you ask me. "Listen to me..." he started out saying, in a softer tone of voice; the type of voice that a boyfriend takes on when he needs to apologize to his girlfriend after he has done something fucked up and stupid. "...I'm sorry about the punishment but you need to know— "What do I need to know, Malachi?" There was a tinge of attitude and anger laced in my voice, when I asked him that question. I wasn't aware at that moment that I felt no longer afraid of Malachi or about my current situation. "Do you wanna know what I know?" I didn't even wait for him to answer my question. "I know that you don't plan on having me leave this godforsaken basement unharmed, safe, alive and not raped. So, do what you have to do and stop wasting the fucking time that I have left." By the time I finished my little speech, I was out of breath, which I think it has something to do with the fact that he was narrowing my air passage, and my body was spent. His gray eyes were gazing intensely at me with much fire in them. I tried to match his intense glare with one of my own. The tension between us was very evident. "If someone would've told me that it was capable of hating another individual that I barely know--- "You know me--- "No, I don't," I informed Malachi, interrupting him. "The person that I know, the boy that I grew up with, is dead. He died a long time ago. I don't know when he died. If I have to guess, it must've been during one of your prison tours..." I noticed his eyes narrowed as a result of that insult. Instead of stopping, I continued to speak my peace. "...But, you, I don't know who you are. This person, you, I hate you" I declared. "I truly fucking hate you with every bit of my soul." At the mere mention of my hate for him, I thought that my heart skipped a beat and a new set of tears emerged. Then, I realized something about my declaration of hating Malachi. "I guess me hating you, makes me no different than you" I stated, with a mirthless chortle attached to that statement. Skin to Skin Ch. 02 I was expecting him to do so something harsh to me, in retaliation, like break out the belt and whip me again. Instead, he let go of my hair and my head fell into the pillow. I let out a sigh of relief, when the entire ache dissipated from my neck. 'Please Lord, let him kill me quickly,' I said inside of my head. I felt his forearm brushed up against my forearm as he reached for the handcuffs. Once my wrists were freed, he flipped me over as if I weighed only a feather. I let out a yelp from surprise at being flipped over at a sudden pace. Malachi lifted me off of the mattress and pulled me into his embrace. Really, it was more like he was gripping my biceps and was forcing me to stay in his personal space. I felt his hard dick pressed up against my belly. I tried my best to ignore its presence. "So, you hate me, huh?" he said to me, with warmth in his eyes and with anger in his voice, but I sensed that he wasn't just angry. "You hate me, huh?" he growled. After he said that to me, I realized that Malachi was hurt and offended. 'He just beat the hell out of me with a belt, choked me earlier and now he's hurt and offended, because I told him that I hated him. Give me a fucking break.' Once again, the thought of his mentally instability had popped into my mind. 'Shit, apologize to him, before he hurts you again,' my conscience suggested. Before I could say anything, he interrupted me and continues talking. "You hate me, huh? After all of these years of knowing me, you fucking hate me? Answer me this question, Chloe; did you hate me when you were putting money on my books, back when I was upstate, huh? Did you hate my ass then?" My eyes widened in surprise that he knew about the deposits that I was making. I assumed that the prisons' staff members kept the donators' names confidential, if the donors requested for anonymity. "You knew about--- "Yeah, I knew about that," Malachi informed me, shaking me for emphasis. "Answer my question: Did you hate my ass then, Chloe?" he asked me. Malachi's grip became tighter on my arms. I winced at the pain. Then, he pressed his forehead against mine. Those enraged and intensive gray eyes were still focus on me. Unexpectedly, the gazing was doing something to my body, in particular, something inside of my loins, which was making me feel ashamed. 'Oh my sweetness, girl, please don't tell me that you're getting wet for this man,' my conscience chastised me. 'He kidnapped you, he is forcing you to stay in this awful room and he had just beaten you with a belt. What in blue blazes is wrong with you?' Due to conscience admonishment, I felt so embarrassed that I tried to lower my head, to avoid his gaze, but he used his own head to force mine to stay up. Malachi's voice had changed up; it has gone deeper. There was lust in his voice. It was very evident. "Did you hate my ass when you were upstairs, lying on that couch, playing with yourself and thinking about me? Did you hate my ass then?" I wasn't able to answer his inquiry with an actual response so a breathy moan escaped my mouth. 'Why is it so hot in here?' My flesh felt like it was on fire. My lungs felt heavy, I felt slightly light-headed and it was difficult to breathe. His hands slid down my arms and placed themselves on my wide, rounded hips. My hands clasped onto his chest to maintain my balance. 'Oh my sweetness,' my mind screamed as his hands traveled down to my lower cheeks. His fingers kneaded and caressed the skin there. 'Oh shit, damn it feels good'. I moaned low, under my breath. My hands reached out to feel the muscles in his biceps. "Did you hate my ass...?" His lips were hovering over mine. His lips were so close to mine that I am sure we were sharing the very same air. "...when you had my cock in your mouth?" Both of his hands gave each of my ass cheeks a slap. I emitted out a guttural moan and he had taken advantage of that perfect opportunity. His mouth swallowed my moan and his long, thick tongue invaded my mouth. My fingers found their way into Malachi's hair and my fingernails lightly scraped at his scalp. There was a deep groan that came from him, which seemed to have come from the bowels of his soul. Then, without any warning, he lifted me up and I had to wrap my legs around his narrow waist to keep from falling. I yelped in shock, while my lips were planted on his. By the time our lips parted, both of us were breathless and we gasped for oxygen. The separation was required for the both of us, we both needed to regroup. "Don't worry, baby, I got you," he assured as his hands gripped my thighs. We fell into a silence. Now quiet, we were stared at each other. There were only the sounds of us inhaling and exhaling. I stared down at him, my hands cradled his face. He was a stunning visual for me. My brown-skinned hands were embracing his beautiful porcelain skin. My eyes raked over the few imperfections that he possessed and then my fingertips briefly touched them. For each one, I knew the history behind them. The soles of my fingertips grazed over the small, curved scar that hugged the outer corner of his left eyebrow. Darryl Williams, from Building E, gave him this one during a fight. Darryl picked up a rock and threw it at Malachi, an action which initiated the fight. My fingers touched the small, keloid scar the rested above his upper full lip, just an inch away from the cleft in his lip. He received this one, when he was sixteen. He was involved in another fight. This time, it was with a guy that was there to avenge his brother's defeat; an opponent that lost to Malachi in one of his previous altercations. Then, there's the tiny scar on his left nostril, where his nose piercing used to be. Malachi was thirteen, at the time, when he received the piercing. His mom flipped out, punished him and forced him to allow the hole to heal up. Then, my fingertips softly traced every feature on his face, as if I was committing them to memory. Malachi had the 'pretty boy good looks', even back when he was a little boy. He has what talent scouts call "a leading actor's good looks": beautiful eyes that can make women's hearts melt or make men's blood run cold; a prominent nose, a pair of sexy lips that are full, pink and voluptuous and a jaw line that was strong and excreted valiance. Everybody (and when I say 'everybody' I meant the people that lived in our building) knew that Malachi was going to grow up and be a handsome man, even the black women believed it. I remember being a girl and hearing adult women say that he was 'going to be a heartbreaker, when he grows up'. "You like what you see?" he teased, breaking me out of my reverie. I have forgotten for that moment that I was being suspended in the air. He held onto me as I did my survey and he trusted me enough to allow me to touch him. "Yeah, I see plenty of things that I like," I stated to him, sounding senuous, before planting a kiss on his lips. 'What the hell is wrong with you?' my conscience screamed at me. By then, I was tired of feeling ashamed and guilty about my fluctuating desires. I was also tired of my conscience. 'Just shut up and leave me alone,' I snapped at myself, mentally. 'Oh Lord, what the fuck is wrong with you? You're arguing with yourself.' I slipped my hand in between our bodies, past his ripped abs and my not-so ripped abs. I grabbed his engorged member and rubbed the mushroom-shaped cap against the crevice of my swollen pussy lips, coating the tip with my juices. His hands tighten their grips on my thighs and he groaned in pleasure. I rubbed up against him a few more times and then I welcomed his cock into my warmth. "Oh," I gasped. I underestimated the thickness of his cock's glans. I had made a few attempts before I succeeded in slipping him inside. I wasn't halfway down his shaft, when Malachi decided to beat me to the punch. He pushed the rest of his thick member inside of me, in one quick thrust. I screamed, due to both pleasure and pain. It has been a year, 10 months, 3 weeks and 4 days since the last time I had sex, so things were a bit tight. Plus, his dick is the biggest one that I've dealt with. "Shit, you're so fucking tight," he groaned, once his prick situated deep inside of me. A sizeable portion of time had gone by, before he started to drive his cock in and out of me. His thrusts were slow-paced, but were allowing his cock to tap every nerve ending that was inside of my cunt. Unexpectedly in this position, I surrendered to my first orgasm. He kept a firm grip on me as my body trembled in his arms. "It's been a while," I reasoned, in a manner that sounded like a whimper. He held me in his powerful arms. With his dick was still wedged inside of me, Malachi placed me back onto the mattress. He took a hold of my legs and arranged them for his preference. My long, thick legs were arranged in a manner in which they were draped over his shoulders. He allowed his upper body's weight to apply pressure against my thighs and caused them to lean towards my torso. In this new position, his dick sank deeper into my pussy. He caused my pleasure to increase. He let out a long, guttural moan before he resumed. His thrusts started out gentle, with slow strokes, ever since he was aware that I haven't been sexually active for quite some time. Malachi was cautious and I deeply appreciated it. But, after a while of dealing with the slow and gentle strokes, I felt like I was being tease and cheated out of his best. "Malachi," I moaned, as I stared up at the ceiling mirror watching. I stared at the reflection of his tattooed back and at my brown-skinned legs as they were draped over his muscled shoulders. "Mmmm?" he groaned. His face rested in the curve of my neck while his mouth was leaving me with one hell of a hickey. "Fuck me harder," I requested while I panted. He lifted his head just so he could stare into my brown eyes. "You want me to fuck you harder?" he asked, with a mischievous smile on his face. I nodded my head frantically. "How hard?" he asked with his hips still providing slow thrusts. "W-w-what, what do you mean?" I asked, feeling confused by his question. Suddenly, he stopped moving and then he pulled his dick out. I watched his hand stroked his cock a few times, before he placed it right on top of my pussy. I whimpered in protest, when I tried to slide it back inside of me with a tilt of my pelvis and failed miserably. "What I mean is how hard you want to be fucked?" he inquired. Malachi altered his position by letting my legs go, bracing his hands on the mattress and using his arms' strength to support his upper torso off of me. "Any fucking pace besides this one will work," I quipped, with a smile on my face. He pushed his full lips into a smirk before reaching down to give me a passion-filled kiss. 'God, I love kissing him' is the thought that floated inside of my head. As our lips caressed each other, I grabbed the base of his cock and slowly guided him inside of my pussy. With his hips pushing towards my pelvis, he slid the rest of his dick inside. Once he bottomed out, his hips rotated while his pelvis ground against my pussy. Both of our groans of pleasures had flooded the bedroom. Malachi's face had gone back to his resting place which was the curve that was in my neck. I felt the strength in my neck and shoulder relaxed, so my head lolled a little to the right. The circular pelvic movements were conjuring moans, and indecipherable words out of me. Malachi was making groans and was saying a few unintelligible words himself. With the feeling of his cock's head nudging against my cervix and with the way his thick cock had stretched my walls, it created such good feelings inside of me. Then, there was the rough texture of his pubic hair scrapping up against my bare swollen lips and clit. A surge of pleasure that shot up from my crotch and up into my stomach, which caused me to tilt my hips up and wrap my legs around his slender hips, to maximize my pleasure. My hands gripped his forearms with my acrylic tips dug into his flesh. "Oh, fuck," I whimpered. "You like that baby," he whispered into my ear, as he continued to grind his pelvis. A simple head nod and a moan was my answer. There was a chuckle and then he proceeded to rock my world off of its axis, by handing out shorter thrusts that were harsher and faster. The pleasure that I received from it had eventually become too intense that my hands reached down to grip his hips, to try to control the pace. Of course, the act was futile. And my attempt at gaining control did not go unnoticed. "There's no way, baby that I am going to stop," he grunted. Then, he increased the intensity behind his thrusts and I moaned out for him to continue. My hands clutched onto his shoulders and he pressed his body closer to mine. His hands slipped underneath my hips and tilted them. At this new angle, his dick felt like it had gone deeper inside. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me..." I moaned and continued to say, as if I was chanting a prayer. Malachi was the angel that had listened to my prayers. This man and his actions had managed to gain the attention of all five of my senses. I smelled the sharp fragrance that belonged to the soap that he used, the acidic odor of his sweat and the slight smell of his deodorant. With every powerful thrust, I felt my womb contract and expand around his pale dick. I heard the sounds that our sweat-soaked bodies made when they rubbed against each other. I listened for the sounds of his heavy panting. I felt the warmth from his breath on my face. My eyes drifted up to the ceiling, to gaze at our reflections. We looked beautiful together. I noticed the sharp contrast of our skin tones; the dark chocolate shade of brown that was mine and the porcelain white of his skin tone. I watched as my hands trailed down his back, down to his buttocks and grasped onto the well-toned muscles. I stared at his butt as the cheeks contracted and released along with his thrusts. His cum was still tantalizing the taste buds on my tongue. During my silent assessment, I felt myself slip under that first impending wave of my orgasm. "I'm cumming, baby," I announced, in a soft moan. "Yeah, that's it baby. Cum with my cock in you," Malachi growled into my ear. At the sound of his voice, I unraveled. "Oooh shit, fuck," I gasped loudly as my body surrender to the internal explosion of pleasure. There isn't a best way or even an 'okay' way to describe how I felt at that moment. It felt like the concept of time no longer exist. It felt like this feeling, this intense sense of touch, would last for eternity. I wanted him to stay inside of me forever until my last breath. At this moment, everyone and everything didn't exist, except for two people: Malachi and me. When the last orgasmic quiver dissipated, I noticed Malachi was no longer pressed up against me and his dick has departed from my body as well. He was sitting up on the bed, occupying the space that was in between my legs, resting on his haunches while staring at me. His hands were gently stroking the tops of my thighs. "Are you okay?" I let out a trembling sigh as an answer. "How do you feel baby?" he asked me, as he applied more pressure into his caress. I sighed from enjoyment in his massage tactics. "I feel good," I purred, as I seized a hold of his wrists. I guided his hands up my torso and to my breasts, where Malachi's hands cupped my ample cleavage. His hands fondled my girls; testing the weight of them, he lightly pinched my nipples and massaged them. He continued his exploration with his lips and tongue soon after. "Oooooh" I cried as my back arched, which was an initiate reaction. I felt his lips tugged on my nipples, his teeth teasingly scrapped the surface and the use of his tongue soothe away the abrasive sensation. "Malachi," I heard myself whimper, from all of the pleasure that I was enduring. I held on to the back of his head, trying to goad into intensifying his actions. Instead, he stopped and removed his mouth all together. He returned back to sitting in his original position. "Malachi?" I whimpered, sounding disappointed, while looking at him. He glared down at me, with a fiery gaze. "Get on your hands and knees," he growled at me. I grew excited at the thought of what he planned on doing to me. There was also a tinge of fear inside of me too. While he sat there, I managed to roll my body into that desired position. His hands had lightly grazed my hips and buttocks. "Does your back still hurt?" There was no harshness in his voice, when he had asked. "No," I gasped; my skin was still sensitive from that flogging. "Good," he said, in a steady voice, before unexpectedly ramming his ten-inched dick into my cunt. "Malachi," I screamed, at the pain and fullness that suddenly erupted inside of my pussy. He didn't even acknowledge my pain; instead Malachi continued to pound my pussy with his dick, using thrusts that were rough and deep. "Malachi," I whimpered, as I felt unformed tears burning my eyes. I felt his rough, callused hands rubbed on my back in the vertical direction. His hands occasionally gripped my hips. Instead of focusing on the discomfort that I was feeling, I decided to focus all of my attention on his hands' actions. They were holding on my hips at first and then traveled up my back and up to my shoulders. His hands grabbed a hold of my shoulders and then suddenly he stopped thrusting. "Malachi?" "Don't move," he groaned, his voice contained a tremor. "Wha— "Don't move," he said to me, interrupting me. "I don't want to cum yet." "Okay," I whimpered while I felt my pussy contract around his cock. At least a minute had gone by, before he resumed. His cock slowly withdrew from my pussy and my mouth let out a groan of relief. "Mala--- "I just realize something," he muttered under his breath. "What is that?" I asked, panting and feeling slightly dizzy. Then I took a gander over my right shoulder. "What did you realize?" There was a hint of mischief in his eyes and a slight smile on his lips. I knew that he was up to something. "I realize that I never returned the favor," Malachi stated, before disappearing from my view. Then, I felt the rough and wet surface of his tongue on my pussy lips. My hips made a jolt forward at the sensation and I moaned loudly. "You taste sweet," I heard him say and then he had put his mouth to a better use. His tongue made long, broad strokes and with each stroke, the tip of his tongue made slow, small circles on my clit. I felt his lips suck my swollen lower lips into his mouth and suck on them, as he thrust three of his fingers inside of my pussy. There was tightness that occurred in my muscles and a burning sensation had formed at the pit of my stomach. I could feel the approaching orgasm. My upper body sank down to the mattress and my head rested on a pillow. "Baby," I squealed, in a heavy pant, "I'm about to cum." "You're going to cum for me?" His fingers were still deep inside of me and I started to fuck them, as if they were his dick. I wanted to cum so badly. Instead, he removed his three thick fingers. I groaned loudly in irritation. There was that damned chuckle. I felt his body shift around on the mattress and then felt his hot and solid form pressed up against my ass. "Malachi--- His name was the last thing to fall out of my mouth as Malachi's cock invaded past the pair of swollen pussy lips and into the wet canal. There weren't any gentleness with any of thrusts. I heard a loud groan. Then, I heard another lustful moan. Then, there was another one. They sounded like they were coming from an animal. The groans gave off the impression that there was a lot of pleasure involved. I eventually realized that the groaning came from me. Skin to Skin Ch. 03 Author's Note: Hello everybody! I'm sorry for the delays! I should have been leaving more frequent posts, but I have been busy. Apparently, my family thinks that I should not stay "coop up inside of my apartment" and I should spend weekends doing "fun" things. Apparently for a lot of people, shopping at Home Depot, flea markets and IKEA is fun... This is the second chapter of "Skin To Skin". In this chapter, it is not a lemon, even though there is a mention of sex. By the way, there is a few more chapters to this story, because this story just happens to be a mogwai that was wet. **************** "MOMMY!" The sound of Rashida's voice had frightened me from my slumber. I thought she was hurt and then I thought that one of the other kids were injured. I sat upright in my bed. I was so alarmed that I didn't know that my daughter was straddling my hips. My baby girl let out a squeal of fright as she fell backwards. I managed to snag one of my baby's forearms and held on tightly. Her descent had come to a stop when she was a few inches away from the mattress. "Wwwwwhhhhoooaaaa," she squealed as she floated above my blanket-covered legs. Her big, adorable brown eyes were wide while the corners of her pouty mouth was curved upwards into a smile. "Are you okay?" I asked my six year-old daughter, who was the youngest out of my nine children. Rashida chuckled and smiled. She displayed the gap in her mouth that was caused by the lack of her front two teeth. "Yeah," she laughed. I pulled my baby into an upright position. I wrapped my arms around her small frame and I gave her a tight hug. I buried my face into the curve of her neck and I inhaled her scent. My nose picked up the scent of maple syrup and pancake batter. I listened to my daughter's squeals and coos. She was ticklish. I removed my face from its resting place and then I proceeded on placing several kisses on her forehead. Rashida squirmed and squealed. "Mommy!" she squealed. "Mommy, stop it!" I stopped and stared down at my child. "Aaaaaalllllllll righty then," I announced with a chuckle. My bedroom was saturated with her laughter. I released her. She was free for a few seconds before she spoke. "Okay, do it again!" she demanded. I grabbed onto her again and did the same thing, which was frantically kiss her face. Like before, Rashida laughed, squealed and fidgeted throughout my act of silliness. "Mommy, stop it!" I complied with her request. A few seconds later, she asked me to do it again. With a smile on my face and a sense of glee in my spirit, I kissed her face but I tickled her sides as well. We ended up doing this exchange four more times. By the time we were finished, we were both winded. I had returned to my original prone position in my bed. My daughter, on the other hand, ended up lying in her daddy's part of the bed. I watched my little cherub roll onto her right side and then prop her head, neck and shoulders up with the help of her right hand. She stared up at me with her big, round eyes that displayed feistiness and curiosity. "Mommy, are you going to ask me why I am here?" I already knew why she was here, in my bedroom. It was my birthday. For every year, my husband and my oldest children make me a pancake breakfast and later on, in the evening, I will be presented with a birthday cake after our supper. It was a tradition that was formed when my oldest child, Gail, was a toddler. At that particular time, we were living in a one-bedroom apartment. I was pregnant with our second child, our first son and I was also the breadwinner of the family. Malachi was unemployed and he played the role of 'stay-at-home dad'. My birthday had rolled around and he felt bad that he couldn't afford to buy me a nice gift. So, he decided to make me a birthday gift, which was breakfast. I rolled onto my left side. I propped my head into my left hand and I stared down at my baby, my little Baby Sweetheart. "Tell me why you are here." Rashida brushed a lock of her hair from out of her view. "Cause Daddy is making you breakfast. And I am here to make sure that you don't ruin the surprise," she informed me. "Oh," I gasped. "I gotcha, so did Daddy tell you when I should come downstairs?" "Daddy said..." Her little left hand scratched her right wrist. "On the clock, when the big hand is on the eleven number and the little hand is on the ten number." I turned around slightly and glanced at the electronic alarm clock that was on my nightstand. The face of the clock read '11:00 AM'. 'All right, I have ten minutes before we go.' I rolled back around and stared at my daughter. My eyes drifted to my youngest child and I noticed her head, in particular, her hair. I knew that my eyes bulged in mild amazement and full-blown amusement. I knew that her current hairstyle was the end result of her father's follicle handiwork. Rahsida's copper-colored hair looked like an absolute mess. Her shoulder-length, kinky hair was styled with an array of ponytails. Each of the ten ponytails varied in size and was adorned various decorations. Malachi placed some ponytails with plastic barrettes and others with silk ribbons. Some of her ponytails held braids and the other ones were loose. The ponytails that were braided were sticking straight out. "Baby Sweetheart, did Daddy do your hair today?" Rashida sighed as if I just asked her to tell me about her heavy burdens. Her doe-shaped eyes became downcast. "Yup," she said to me, sounding forlorn. I laughed so much that my face grew hot and my cheeks were sore. It was so adorable and funny. My daughter and I cuddled with each other for another eight minutes. "All right baby, we have to go downstairs now," I announced to my daughter as I pulled back the layers of bed linen from my legs. "Okay Mommy," she said to me as she crawled to the foot of my king-sized canopy bed. I climbed out of my bed and I walked over to the other side of the bedroom. As I walked to the dresser, I noticed my reflection was in the mirror. My eyes focused on the bare, chocolate thighs and then the large shirt that I wore. I silently thanked the Lord for having the common sense to dress in my pajamas again, after my husband gave me my first birthday gift, a few hours ago. I walked over to the dresser and approached a drawer that contained my pajamas. "Ooooh Mommy, you have waves on your thighs!" Rashida said to me. I looked at my daughter. She pointed at my legs. I knew that she was referring to the cellulite that decorated my thighs. 'Great,' my brain groaned. 'Today I turned forty-eight years old and now my baby just pointed out my cellulite.' "Yes, I have waves on my thighs, Baby Sweetheart," I told her with a broad smile. I turned back to the drawer and pulled out a pair of baggy, Sponge-Bob Square Pants pajama bottoms. I shut the drawer closed and then stood up straight. I slipped the pajama pants on. I turned to face my child. "I have waves on my legs baby because I am old." "Mommy, you're not old," Rashida informed me. "Awww," I moaned as I gushed from her act of flattery. I walked up to the foot of the bed. I stood in front of my daughter. "Thank you." "You're welcome, Mommy." I cupped her small, round face in my hands. She stared up at me. In her dark brown, doe-shaped eyes, I saw her admiration for me. Abruptly, I felt a sensation that was overwhelming. A thrill ran through my body and it caused my stomach to tremble. My cheeks flushed and my heart beaten with a great ferocity. I thought that my esophagus tightened up. My eyes watered as I gazed down at my child's face. Unbeknownst to her, she gifted me with one of the great gifts that a parent can receive from a child. A few minutes later, we both headed for the first level of the house, for the kitchen. As soon as I exited the bedroom and entered the hallway, I was greeted by the usual sounds of nature. For me, 'the sounds of nature' consisted of the television playing along with the stereo system in the living room, the kids shouting at each other, the sounds of the dog barking or the cat screeching, my husband's voice, the crazy sound effects of a random child's toy and the usual declaration of "I'm gonna tell Mom!" I sighed a deep breath. 'Boy, I remember when this house used to be quiet all of the time. But then, we decided to have seven more children because we thought that they were going to be easy rearing just like the first two kids. Ha, how silly were we?' Two minutes later, Rashida and I entered the gladiator ring that used to be my kitchen. I called it the 'gladiator ring' because my sons Ian and Nicholas tend to play-fight inside of there. In fact, my twelve year-old and my ten year-old sons were grappling, when I entered the kitchen. They were fighting in the space that was in between the refrigerator and the kitchen counter space. "Hey, hey, hey..." I walked over to where my two children were fighting while I still carried my five year-old in my arms. I gave each of their limbs a nudge with my left foot. "Both of you stop it right now! If you want to play fight, go in the basement!" I listened to my boys laugh in response before I watched them untangle themselves from each other. They stood up from the scuffed-up, green linoleum floor and then ran towards the door that led into the basement. A few seconds later, I listened to their pairs of feet scramble down the stairs into the sublevel of the house. Once I was assured that they were downstairs, I turned my attention to my other kids, who sat on the opposite side of the kitchen. My kids were sitting at the dining table and eating their breakfast which consisted of bowls of cold cereal. It was then, when I noticed the odor of burnt pancake batter floating through the air. "Hey," I said to the kids. I noticed six pairs of eyes focused on me. My children stopped chatting with each other and eating just to stare at me. "Where's my birthday breakfast?" My oldest son, M.J. said to me "Dad burned the pancakes." I stared at the younger, spitting image of my husband and I smirked at him. "What?" He asked me with his gray eyes wide and with a mouthful of Cheerios. "Dad burned your food— "And we don't have any more pancake mix!" Dahlia reported to me as she kneeled on the wooden bar stool that was in front of the island countertop. She was my seven year-old daughter. I asked the small tribe that was my progeny, "So where is your dad now?" I gave Rashida a kiss on her forehead before I placed her down. "Did he go to the store?" "Ma, you sound like you really want those pancakes," my oldest child, Gail told me with a smirk on her face. "Well damn it, I do want my pancakes," I told them all. My voice sounded whiny. I knew that I sounded like a spoiled brat that was about to have a temper tantrum, but I didn't care. It was my birthday and I believed that I could act like an idiot if I wanted to. "It's important to me." "AAAAAAWWWWW," all four of my oldest smart-assed kids said to me. My face contorted into a snarl which caused the kids to laugh. I wanted to flip them the bird, but I knew that Dahlia and Rashida was still in the room. Yes, I am one of those parents. "So, if he didn't go to the store to buy more pancake mix, where is he?" I asked after the laughter died down. "He's outside," Gail informed me. She stood up from the table and waddled over to where I was standing, which was on the other side of the counter. "Happy birthday, Mama." We embraced each other. I brushed a lock of her sandy brown, curly hair away from her pretty face. I gave my daughter a kiss on her forehead and then greeted my unborn grandson with a gentle pat. "Thank you baby," I told her. "Daddy's outside cleaning up after Chainsaw!" my seven year-old son Liam told me. Rashida laughed. "Daddy's outside picking up dog poop!" she said, cheerfully. Then Liam and my youngest both laughed together. Apparently, the subject of dog poop was very hilarious for young children. "So Ma, what do you have plan for your birthday?" M.J. asked me. I shrugged my shoulders. I gazed at Dahlia and gave her nose a gentle pinch. She giggled. I stared at Malachi Junior. "I have no idea, you're going to have to ask your father about that one," I told him. "Have fun," my fifteen year-old daughter Leila said to me. "Just as long as you don't bring another baby into this house." The oldest four began to cackle. "Excuse me?" I said to the four of them while I wondered why they were laughing. "Mmmmmmmmmooooommmmmm..." Leila announced as she re-adjusted her stance in the wicker chair that was in front of the dining table. She sat side-straddle so she could stare at me. Her hazel eyes gazed at me with amusement. "Wwwwwwhhhhhhhhaaaaaatttttt?" I said to her, mimicking her. Leila rolled her eyes while Dahlia, Liam and Rashida laughed. "You know what happens around this time of the year and around daddy's birthday," she said to me. We both stared at each other for a moment. I was trying to figure out what she meant while she was staring at me and hoping that I knew what she meant. My other children was staring at me while snickering. "Come on Mom, you know what I am talking about," Leila stated. "No, I don't Leila." "Mom, come on," M.J. said to me while running his fingers through his shoulder-length, curly red hair. "If you keep running your fingers through your— "Mom, don't start about my hair," my son warned me. "Now, have you ever noticed that we were born in the same months, which is coincidentally nine months after your and dad's birthdays?" ."Yeah Ma," Gail said to me as she stood behind me, in front of the sink. She was washing the soiled dishes in the sink. "You never noticed the pattern?" 'What pattern?' I wondered. "Mama, tell us our birthdays," my other fifteen year-old daughter Delilah asked me. "Oh... Kay," I mumbled. "Gail..." I glanced at my daughter from over my left shoulder. "Your birthday is April 3rd..." I turned my focus on the other children. I pointed my right index finger at Dahlia. "Dahlia, your birthday is April 4th..." I glanced over her head and I stared at the other children, who sat at the table. I pointed my index finger at M.J. "M.J., your birthday is on August 22nd..." I pointed at Delilah and then at Leila, who sat closest to Malachi Junior. "... You girls' birthdays are on August 12th..." I pointed at my son, Liam. "Liam, your birthday is on April 1st..." I pointed to Rashida who was sharing the same chair as Liam. "Baby Sweetheart..." She giggled. "... Your birthday is on August 10th...." My sense of hearing had picked up the sounds of the backdoor's locks unfastening. Suddenly, my heart began to beat heavily and my stomach began to tremble with excitement. "Nicholas' birthday is on August 13th and Ian's birthday..." I heard the door opened and I listened to the sound of the metal storm door striking against the doorframe. "...is on August 18th. So— "Ssssssooooo, what I am trying to say is..." Leila started out saying. "You and Daddy tend to make babies on the nights of your birthdays." "Yeah," M.J. confirmed with a nod of his head. "We're the gifts that keep on giving!" I scoffed, rolled my eyes and then chuckled. "It's true, Mom!" Delilah pointed out. "Uh-huh," I grunted as if I didn't believe them, which was false. I did believed in Leila's claim but I wasn't going to admit that one to her. If I would admit to my daughter that she was right and I was wrong, she would hold that shit over my head for forever. "Kids, is your mom up yet?" The inquiry had come from inside of the pantry room, the little area that led to the back exit for the house and was the room next to the kitchen. I listened to the gruff voice and I felt my arousal increased. Even though we have been married for over twenty years, my lust and attraction for my husband never waned. My heart felt like it was trying to break free from my chest. There was a tingle that coated my flesh and it caused my limbs to feel numb. I also felt excited as if I was about to reunite with my husband, who I haven't seen in a long time. The last time I felt like that was when Gail was a three month-old and we waited for her daddy's arrival, after his release from prison. "Yeah Daddy," Gail told him. "She's in the kitchen with us." My husband entered the kitchen, a few seconds later. His tall and broad frame had filled up the room. He garnered everybody's attention inside of the kitchen. At first, I didn't see his face. He entered the kitchen while he surveyed the contents on his coat. His thick fingers were unfastening the buttons. His red and gray-streaked, chin-length hair covered his face's profile. I smelled the fragrance of his favorite cologne. My eyes watered and a lump sat in the middle of my throat. I was surprised that I felt this way. This man was my partner and he had been by my side for twenty-three years. I thought I was used to the experience of seeing him return to the house after he finished cleaning up after our Great Dane. Once his coat was loose, he glanced at me and I thought that my heart had stopped beating. I saw his gray eyes sparkled with joy. Then I noticed the smile on his face. "Good morning baby. Happy Birthday," he greeted. I sighed. "Thank you and good morning to you too." Malachi slipped out of his coat and then hung the item up on a coat rack that was mounted on the wall that was behind the pantry's door. "Daddy!" Rashida screamed in joy. The older children and I watched the baby of the group jump off out of her seat. She quickly ran over to where Malachi stood. Then, she jumped into the air and towards her father, as if she was a 6'7 point guard about to make a slam dunk. Malachi managed to turn around to see her just in the nick of time. He used his keen sense of reflex and he caught her. "Oomph," he grunted as his knees and calves absorbed the gravity's weight. I watched his strong body make a slight adjustment. 'Only he can make some things look effortless,' I thought. 'Except for that hair though!' I let out a chuckle. He gathered Rashida in his arms as if she was an infant. She laughed and chirped in glee. He stared down at our daughter. "Baby Sweetheart, did you do what Daddy asked you to do?" She giggled. "Yes Daddy, I stayed with Mommy until you told me to bring her down..." Our child stared at me. "Right, Mommy?" "Yes baby," I told her while confirming with my husband that she did what she was told. I eyed my husband. "She did a great job." Malachi chuckled and then gave our daughter a kiss on her forehead. "Good," he hummed. "Rashida, go and finish your breakfast baby." He bent down and allowed our youngest child to get down. She climbed out of her daddy's arms and frolicked back to her seat, so she could finish eating her meal. Malachi walked over to Dahlia and gave her a kiss on the back of her skull. Then he walked around to the other side of the counter island. He strolled up to me. His hands sought out my not-so-girlish hips. He pulled me closer to him. Once I was close enough, I grabbed a hold of the lapels of his shirt. I gazed into his eyes and I saw the heavy dose of lust inside of them. I also felt evidence of his arousal pressing against my upper stomach. "Mmmm," I moaned while my bottom lip was tucked inside of my mouth. I was mindful of the noise because of the kids. In response, Malachi's face drew closer to mine and he gave my forehead a gentle kiss. Once again, I moaned. 'Got-damned, the forehead kiss always get me in trouble.' "Good morning," he groaned. "Morning," I moaned. "For your breakfast, things didn't go as plan." "I know," I grunted, making my disappointment evident. "The kids told me what happened." I watched his face contort into a mask of disappointment. "I'm sorry baby. I managed to ruin your pancakes." Skin to Skin Ch. 03 I didn't like seeing my husband upset or disappointed. "It's all right. I can have a bowl of cereal," I told him. I felt his hands leave the spots of my hips and travel to the soft globes of my ass. He gave my Sponge-Bob Square Pants themed, pajama-covered bottom a hearty squeeze. I flinched while I was in his embrace. "Malachi," I gasped in shock. "The kids are inside of the kitchen!" I whispered. He chuckled in response before giving me a kiss. It was the type of kiss that made my toes curl and my pussy to throb with desire. His lips felt warm and soft against mine. His lips doled out kisses that were short and quick. The tip of his tongue flickered against my top lip. I knew that it was his way of letting me know that he was planning on fucking me soon. The thought of being fucked by my husband's thick cock caused me to moan. My fingernails dug into the fabric of his shirt. He gave my lips one final kiss before we parted ways. He gazed down at me. "Let's have some fun," he proposed to me. I smiled at him. I pursed my mouth and then I licked my bottom lip. I took note that his eyes were focused on my mouth. "What type of plans do you have in mind?" I asked seductively. "How about we have M.J. and Gail take the youngest kids out to the movies and to the arcade and we can have some alone time?" suggested Malachi. I chuckled. "Mmm," I moaned lightly. "That sounds like a great idea, babe. It will at least give us a few hours alone." "That's the plan," he stated as a smirk graced his lips. "We'll have at least five hours of 'alone time'. Who knows? We might make another baby today." I chuckled. I figured that he must've heard the conversation that the kids and I was having. "You know what— 'BBBLEEEP! BBBLEEP! BBBLEEP! BBBLEEP! BBBLEEP! BBB...' My eyes snapped open and I was greeted by darkened basement. I figured out that I was awakened by the sounds of an alarm clock's rings. 'Ugh, what-the-fuck?' I said to myself. Skin to Skin Ch. 04 This is a dramatization of a true event. Setting: Jamaica, Queens, New York. Saturday, October 5th at 3:44 AM Me: (groggily) What? What is...? (reaches over to the nightstand and flicks on the lamp. Turns to face the foot of the bed. Spots a large figure at the bottom of the mattress. The figure is dress in black.) Me: AAAAAAAHAHHHHHAAAAHHHHAAAAHHHH!!!!! (calms down. Identifies the figure as Muse #3.) What-in the-blue f-(bleep)-k are you doing in my room, looking like the Prince of f-(bleep)-king darkness?! (glances over at the alarm clock that is on the nightstand) It is 3:45 in the morning! Why are you here? Muse #3: Here. (tosses lap top onto my lap) Let's go. Me: (while staring incredulously) Now?! You want me to write now?! Muse #3: (shrugs shoulders) Well, you ain't doing anything at the moment. Me: I was sleeping, jackass! Muse #3: Yeah, like I said, you were doing nothing. Me: (dead-pan stare) Muse #3: (stares from left to right and finally at me) What? Me: (dead-pan stare) Muse #3: So, are we going to get started? Me: (blinks eyes and then sighs) Muse #3: (smiles and then starts to clap fanatically) Goody-good-good! Now, wipe that drool off of your face and let's rock-and-roll! Me: (groans and slips out of the bed. Trips on a bed sheet and lands on my knees. Hears Muse #3 giggle. Stands up. Then, limps out of the bedroom.) Muse #3: (snickering while staring at me as I walk out of the room) Are you alright? (still snickering)I like your sleeping bonnet! Makes you look elegant! ------------------------ Hello readers! I know! I know! I have been not fulfilling my obligations by keeping up to date with my stories. I've been dealing with health issues, a nasty case of writer's block, some important people have been sick (including my toddler-niece), work (I have working overt-time) and some plain ole' laziness. Speaking of my writer's block, it's somewhat cured, but I have encountered a new problem. I have a case of 'Muses Overload'. My mind has been coming with a lot of premises for new stories and it's driving me abso-freaking-lutely INSANE! LOL! It's like suffering from a clogged up sink: Water is filling up the sink, but I can't shut off the water valves. Thanks to a friend's suggestion, I have been able to come up with a method to sate my creative palate. Using a old-fashioned daily planner, I have decided to focus on one story for each week. For one week, I focused on this story. Then I had taken a break because of the holidays. Next week, I am finally going to focus on another story. And so on and so on. Now, without further ado.... ----------------- ~oMRo~ ------------------ Seven weeks later "Oooh, Chloe, look," Lynn chirped as she pointed over to a storefront window that was on the opposite side of the mall's second floor. I looked in the direction of where she pointed and saw that her index finger was aimed towards a mannequin that was in the A/X Armani Exchange window. Lynn snatched up my left hand in her right one. She yanked on my hand as she broke out in a sprint. "Let's go and take a look!" she squealed with excitement. Her leather, riding boots-clad feet and my sneaker-clad ones barely touched the tiled floor as we trotted across the mall. We approached the storefront window and I saw Lynn's object of desire. It was a snakeskin-printed, wrap dress that held a pair of shoulder pads that could've been described as ostentatious. It was as black as the deep blue sea. "This is a nice dress!" claimed Lynn as she ogled the expensive piece of fabric. "What do you think of it, Lo?" I had taken another gander of the dress. "I, uh, I think that it is an expensive piece of fabric that you and your friends would like," I explained to her. "Of course I like it, I mean, look at it! It just screams 'Me'!" she chuckled. "So, are we going inside?" "What?! God, no!" Lynn gave a stare that displayed her mortification. "Have you seen what I look like?!" At this point, Lynn tore her vision away from my face. She peered down at the lime green, cashmere sweater-covered, spherical bulge that was her stomach. She cupped her twenty-two week old, pregnant stomach with her hands. "I am a big fat cow! If I were to put that dress on, I would look like an idiot!" 'Ugh, here we go again,' I secretly fumed. I bit down the urge to roll my eyes. "Lynn, you're not fat," I told her. "You're pregnant." "And I am fat!" she proclaimed. I sighed. I kind of hoped that my rising level of irritation would disappear after that exhalation. "And you just sighed at me!" she accused, with a squeal to her tone of voice. "You're becoming annoyed with me!" she whined. "No, I am not annoyed with you..." 'Yeah, I am.' "...Lynn. I'm just trying to explain to you that you're not fat. You're pregnant and in order to have a healthy baby, you're going to have to gain weight," I explained to her. 'Please Lord, please, let her take that one and not go into— "Oh my God, I'm horrible!" she whined. Her usually beautiful, porcelain skinned face morphed into a mask of grief. Her ruby eyebrows wrinkled while her hazel eyes narrowed. I saw the tears in them. "I am going to be a horrible mother!" 'Oh. Shit.' "All I am worried about is my weight and I am not thinking about my baby," she cried. Then she proceeded to stand there and cry in front of the A/X Armani Exchange store. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw passersby giving the both of us curious glances. I sighed again before I walked over to where Lynn was standing. I placed each of my hands on her slender shoulders. I stared at the crown of her head. "Lynn," I said softly, but loud enough for my friend to hear me. "I'm sorry for insulting you. It wasn't my intention. What I was trying to say was that you do not have anything to worry about. You're pregnant, Lynn. You are carrying another human being inside of your womb. It is one of those beautiful things that only a woman could do. You're lucky, babe." Inside of my head, I had gone over what I had said to Lynn and I cringed. I was slightly embarrassed at how stupid I had sounded. I was definitely talking out of my ass, when I said it. I hoped that Lynn would believe that it was sincere because it was, from my end. Lynn used the sleeves of her sweater to dry her wet cheeks. She stared up at me and smiled. Then she suddenly pulled my body into her embrace. She hugged me with an intensive strength that I didn't know she possessed. "Thank you," she whispered into my ear. "You're welcome, Lynn." We stood in front of the store, in the mall and we hugged for about a minute. After we parted, we turned our attentions to the dress again. "So, are you going to buy the dress?" I asked her. Lynn sighed and then said, "Yeah, why not?" I giggled. "Good. Afterwards, we can go and get something to eat." Once we exited the commercial Armani store, we had traveled to the Food Court that was held in the Queens Center Mall. Lynn wasn't in the mood to patron one of the fast food, 'Take-out' spots and I wasn't in the mood to digest lard and MSG. So, we went to Applebee's on the first level. Once we entered the restaurant, a server had shown Lynn and me to our seating arrangement, which was a booth that was next to a window. She handed each of us a menu and then wished each of us a successful meal. She left us as we were perusing the menus. There was silence between Lynn and myself as we figured out what we wanted to eat. After a few minutes of silence, she was the first person to speak. "So what are you getting?" I shrugged my shoulders as my eyes were staring at a picture of a cheeseburger. "I don't know. I'll probably end up getting— "A steak," both Lynn and I said at the same time. I tore my attention away from the menu and peered over the paper to stare at my best friend. Her bright, golden eyes were gazing at me. We ended up giggling. "You always get the steak!" she said to me after her laughter ceased. "I know," I said to her as I gazed down at the menu's appetizer list. "But why fix something that is not broken?" "So, you're getting the steak?" she asked me. I heard the amusement in the tone of her voice. "Yup," I announced. "What are you getting?" "Ummm," she hummed. "I think that I am going to order a salad. I don't think that my stomach will handle anything else." "Oooh," I grunted. I placed my menu on the tabletop, so I could gaze at Lynn. She was reading the menu's contents. "So how is everything? How's the nausea and the 'morning sickness'?" Lynn chuckled and then she glanced at me. "Ugh, it's comes and goes. It's never ongoing. There are days where I am fine and I can eat anything and everything. The only thing that's consistent is the lower back pain, the swollen tits with the achy nipples and the hurting ankles. I swear, I am starting to believe that a woman has to be absolutely nuts to do this shit on purpose!" We both laughed. "It can't be all bad," I reasoned. "No, it is! I am sensitive as hell, as you know from firsthand experience. My body aches and..." She leaned closer to the table. "I am always horny!" she whispered harshly before she erupted into a fit of giggles. "So, why don't you call up your baby-daddy and have him 'do you a solid'? Or should I say, 'have him do you with a solid'?" I told her while chuckling. Lynn laughed. "You are so perverted!" "Well apparently, I am not the only perverted person that is sitting at this table," I informed her. "So, I advise you to call him." "Well, I will admit to you that I have tried getting into contact with him, but he is busy— "With another woman?" I asked. "No, he's busy working at the hospital. He's been working twenty-four hour shifts since I told him about the pregnancy. But, that's how he is; Kenny has always been a very hard worker. I'm surprised that he was able to stay still long enough to knock me up." "Speaking of which, how's your mother?" I asked as I stared at the pictures of the desserts that were on the back of the menu. I returned my attention to Lynn. "I know that Mama Patrick was P.I.S.S.E.D. when you told her that you were pregnant. She told my mother, who then gave me the 'third degree' about you. Then, there was the whole 'Malachi-Kenny fight' thing that happened." "My mom is still P.I.S.S.E.D. off. Now, I don't know who she is pissed off at: it's either me or Malachi. Strangely enough, the only person that she is not angry with is Kenny. I think it has something to do with the fact that he runs errands for her and checks up on her every day," she explained. "Aw, that is sweet of him," I said to her. "Yeah, whatever," she groaned. "I called him a 'traitor' just the other day." I laughed. "I think my Ma is upset that I am not married to him." "But, wait, your mom isn't married either— "Exactly," Lynn muttered. "I guess she doesn't realize how much of a hypocrite she is." "I understand where..." Lynn leveled me an angry glare. "...Your mother is coming from," I said softly. "She doesn't want to see you struggle like she did with you and Malachi. I'm sure she hoped that you would be different from her." "Yeah, whatever," she groaned as she flipped a page. "I should've just told her the truth: I ended up getting knocked up by one of my close friends after we had one too many shots of Patron. I'm sure she wouldn't have pried too much." "I think she would've tried to drown you in a tub of holy water instead," I stated jokingly. "You're right." I watched the tip of her right index finger tap a rhythm on a photo of a salad that was posted in the menu. I had a hunch that she was going to order that salad for lunch. "I once told her that you and Malachi were more likely to get married than me and Kenny." 'WHAT?!' I began to choke on the saliva that was being held inside of my mouth. I gasped and then began to cough. "Oh my... Lo, are you okay?" I nodded my head frantically while I tried to calm myself. Eventually, my air passageway cleared. I pressed my hand to my throat and said a short prayer of gratitude to God. "I am..." I gasped. "I am fine. The spit had gone down the wrong way," I sighed. I took a few more breaths. "You are an asshole for scaring me like that!" I proclaimed. Lynn just laughed. "What?" she said with a chuckle. "Me and Malachi, Lynn? What on Earth possessed you to think that me and Malachi could--? "Good afternoon, my name is Lisa and I will be your server." I didn't even notice the waitress as she approached the table. Lynn and put our conversation on hold while we spoke to Lisa. Lynn ordered first, an overpriced salad that consisted of spinach, romaine lettuce, cashews and bits of grilled chicken breasts. I ended up ordering a medium rare steak with side orders of mashed potatoes and steamed mixed vegetables. Both of us ordered the same drink: a glass of ginger ale. After Lisa wrote down our drink orders, making a promise to return shortly with our drinks; she left us alone. "Malachi, really?" I said to her with a laugh. "Yes, really," my best friend said with a smile. "It is possible for the two of you to— "Here you go: one glass of ginger ale for you..." Lisa placed one glass of soda in front of Lynn. "And one glass of ginger ale for you..." She placed the second glass in front of me. She threw each of us a smile. "I'll be back with your orders soon." "Thank you," both Lynn and I said to our server before she walked away. "So, me and Malachi?" "Yes, you and my brother. Like I said before, it is possible that you two could hook up. But wait..." Lynn tilted her head up slightly, so she could stare at the ceiling. She pressed the tip of her finger against her chin while displaying a look of feigned concentration on her face. "...You did hook up with my dear ole' brother already..." 'WHAT-IN THE-HELL?! HOW DOES SHE KNOW...?' I gazed at my friend with disbelief as a sense of mortification spilled down into my soul. She had just told me she knew I had sex with her brother. Her Neo-Nazi, skin head older brother. "And please don't deny it, Lo" she said to me with a smirk on her face. I wanted to deny and lie to her, but I couldn't. I couldn't speak. Hell, I couldn't even breathe properly. I just sat there. "What's the matter, cat gotcha tongue?" she teased. In response, my mouth had managed to form a few whimpers. Eventually, the cat had returned my tongue to me. "How... How did you--?" "How did I find out that you and my brother have committed the ultimate sin of incest?" she chirped. "Simple: when Kenny, Ma and I were cleaning out the basement— "You? Cleaning out the basement?" I said to her, with my left eyebrow raised. Her top lip snarled slightly. "You're such an asshole. Anyway, we were cleaning out the basement because Ma had gotten 'a bug in her ass' about something and she wanted Malachi's stuff out of her house. So Kenny's over-compensating ass had volunteered me and himself to help pack up Malachi's things. So, we're packing and cleaning stuff. Then it comes time to dismantle the bed. Kenny did that while Ma cleaned out the bathroom. When Kenny lifted up the box bed, I saw your robe underneath the bed. And I knew that it was your robe, because I bought that hideous thing for Christmas, last year. Plus your initials are monogrammed on the front of it, so you really can't deny it." I rolled my eyes and then covered my face with my hands. If it was possible, I would've smothered myself until I lost consciousness. I didn't want to deal with the extreme dose of embarrassment that I was enduring at the moment. "It's not that bad," I heard Lynn giggled. "Please don't ask me for any details— "Uh-oooohhh, no, no, no" Lynn said to me as she raised her hands up. She shook her head while giggling. "Trust me when I say this to you: I don't want to know anything about my brother and you. All I want to know is about the condoms you used, because Malachi has definitely had his fair share of skanks— "We didn't use anything," I confessed. Lynn's eyes bulged and her mouth formed a perfect 'o'. Then she unleashed her wrath on me. "Are you insane? Do you know how many women are infected with all types of diseases?! Are you insane?! Do you have a death wish?!" Several of the other patrons had glanced at our table due to Lynn's outburst. I made glimpses at a few of them and mouthed an apology. Then I glared at my crazy ass friend. She disregarded my icy stare and proceeded to verbally lay into my ass. "Lo, you could be carry a baby right now and you wouldn't even know it!" she stated in the form of a harsh whisper. "You could have a case of syphilis right now! Knowing my brother's history, you probably have some new type of venereal disease. For all you know, your ovaries are baking like a loaf of raisin bread!" I guffawed and then I fell into a laughter fit. Lynn allowed me to continue to laugh for a minute before she resumed. "Stop laughing at me! It is not funny, Lo! Your health could be at risk right now— "I am fine, Lenora! I am fine! Two days after I slept with your brother... Lynn grimaced. I tossed a napkin at her. "...I had gone to my OB-GYN and was tested for every disease that is known to man. In regards to being pregnant, I am not 'with child'. I am on that birth control pill where I'll get my period four times a year. In fact, three days later, I had received my little red friend. It was the worse one ever! I think it had to do with your brother's big dic— "Ewww," she squealed while her face held an expression of disgust. I found her reaction to be hilarious. As I laughed, I turned my attention to the window. I stared at the passersby as they walked past the restaurant's window. I watched a few people walk by, then I saw them. 'Them' happened to be a small group of four teenaged boys. They were at least twenty-five feet away from where the restaurant stood. They were dressed in all black: each kid wore a denim jacket with patches, black jeans, black shirts and pairs of black boots. All four kids were sporting bald heads and pale white skin. They were hanging around a small kiosk which was being handled by two Middle-Eastern looking gentlemen. There was a teenaged girl that stood behind the men. She looked young enough to be one of the men's daughter. She looked afraid. The four teenagers were behaving like assholes towards the clerks. The behavior was on the borderline of being aggressive and scary. The clerks were feeling irritated, but they remained respectful. My body grew tensed while my nerves were slowly becoming frazzled. I felt as if I was waiting for the first blow to strike. Thankfully, before these teens' 'horse-playing' could escalate into something that was more violent, three security guards approached the kiosk. I saw one guard step forward and speak some words. He must've told them to leave the premises; one of the teens tried to act like a 'tough guy'. He mimicked the guard's strut and strolled up to the guard, invading the guard's personal space. He uttered some words to the security officer. The officer, who appeared to be over six-feet-tall and about a foot taller than the teen, said a few statements to the kid. Whatever he said to the kid, must've scared the teen. The twerp turned away from the guard with a look of fear on his pimply face. He said something to his friends and they walked away from the guards. Hopefully, they left the premises. The image of Malachi's face entered my mind as I watched the teen talk to the security guard. Looking away from the window, I groaned and buried my face in my hands again. Suddenly, I felt upset and embarrassed. I had sex with a man, who probably would've done the same things as those four knuckle-heads. Or he would've done something far worse. Skin to Skin Ch. 04 "What's the matter?" Lynn asked. "Do you still feel bad for having sex with my brother?" I groaned, in response. She scoffed. "It's not that bad, Lo." "Yes, it is!" I shouted into my palms. I rubbed my face a few times and then I placed my hands on the table. "Lynn, I had sex with a Neo-Nazi Skin head. He's a Skin Head, Lynn!" I said softly. "I am a black woman! I grew up listening to the speeches of Malcolm X! I read books by bell hooks, Toni Morrison, Sojourner Truth and Marcus Garvey! My mother and my father were a part of a chapter of the Black Panther Party! My grandparents were a part of the Civil Rights Movement! So, there's no way in hell that I should've slept with a Skin Head!" "Malachi is not— "Your brother is hanging out with them, which means that he is a Skin Head, Lynn. I know that he is your brother and all, but he is a Skin Head. You should know this, especially after he called you a 'fucking coal burner'," I informed her. I watched pain flicker like a flame in her hazel eyes. I was immediately filled with guilt due to my action. I knew that she didn't deserve it. "I'm sorry," I said to her softly. Lynn gave me a gentle smile before she stared down at the table. "It's okay." She allowed a few minutes of quietness to float by before she spoke again. "So what happened?" "With what exactly?" "With you and Malachi, how did...it happen?" she inquired. I decided to lie to Lynn. "It happened on the night, when we had our sleep-over at your mom's house. Malachi and I had decided to chill out, after your ass had fallen asleep on me. We had a few beers and we talked. You know that a 'drunken man's words are an honest man's thoughts' and some things were said. We kissed and one thing led to another..." I thought that Lynn deserved a little bit of the truth, so I told her about the following morning. "I woke up to his alarm clock going off. He was already in the shower by then. So I took advantage of the opportunity. I quickly got dressed in my pajamas and hauled ass out of the basement." "Why did you leave?" she asked. She sounded as if she was truly upset with my actions from that morning. I scoffed. "Umm, because I wanted to avoid that 'awkward morning after' experience." There was a bit of silence between us. "Have you heard from him?" I shook my head. She released a huff. "My mom said. "She does not hear from him either. Now, she's worried about him..." Lynn scoffed in disgust. "One minute, she cursed his ass out and threw him out of her house and the next— "She was angry at him at the time, Lynn. People tend to say some horrible things when angry," I explained to her. "But she didn't have to tell him to leave, Lo. She knows that he doesn't have a place to go." "He's probably staying with one of his Skin Head buddies," was my theory. "Which is why she shouldn't have tossed his ass out," she pointed out. "If she didn't want him in that lifestyle, then she should not have pushed him further into it!" I didn't have a rebuttal for that point. Instead, I just repeated what I said earlier. "No, I haven't spoken to him since that night when we... You know." I sighed. "I just wish I knew where he was. Whenever Malachi disappears for a long period of time and doesn't contact us, we know he is doing something he shouldn't have no business doing." "I hope that he is not in prison again," I muttered. "I hope so too. But the strange thing about that is: when he's in jail, I know where he is at all times." ~oMRo~ After lunch at Applebee's, Lynn and I did more shopping. We ended up hitting a few stores that sold predominantly children's apparel; she wanted to shop for her unborn daughter, whom she named 'Cadence'. "So what do you want to do next?" Lynn asked as we exited the mall. "All I want to do right now is go home, kick off my sneakers and take a damn nap," I informed her. "Oh," I heard Lynn whimper in disappointment. She wanted to spend more time with me, having been seven weeks since our last get-together, which was pathetic for our friendship. I didn't even visit my friend on the day she learned about her pregnancy. 'I haven't been a friend to her at all,' I concluded. My heart made a few hard thumps against my chest, feeling guilty as hell. Glancing over at my best friend as she silently focused on the sidewalk during the walk to my car. Lynn continued to remain silent as we strolled down Queens Boulevard. Finally, we arrived to my parked 2002 silver Infiniti I35. Before we entered the vehicle, I turned to Lynn and then suggested, "Before we go back to your place, we need to go to the supermarket because I know that you don't have any groceries in your house. Also, do you have any good movies at your house or should we drop by my house?" Lynn's face brightened up immediately with excitement. There was a pink tint to her somewhat plump cheeks, nose and chin. Her golden brown eyes shining with a vibrant energy not there previous to my suggestions of spending more time together. "Really?" she squealed with a toothy smile. "Yes, really," I notified her. "But, we need to feed you so— "Ha, ha, ha" a very snarky Lynn said to me before she entered my car. "For your information, I do have food in my house!" Turns out, Lynn didn't have any food inside of her kitchen unless a person wanted to consider a jar of moldy Nutella as a source of food. She had the typical 'doctor-resident' type of diet which consisted of junk food and coffee. Thank goodness we had dropped by a supermarket before we had gone to her place. "I want to show you something after you finish," stated Lynn as she watched me place canned goods in her pantry. "Alright, what is it?" "It's a surprise!" she squealed. After I put away the last can of peas, Lynn snatched my left hand pulling me out of the pantry closet. She guided me out the kitchen, through the dining and living rooms towards the staircase. As we traveled up the stairs, I stopped to survey the collage of framed pictures mounted on the wall. "This was Malachi's idea," she pointed out. "He said he read about the idea from a magazine." An image of the six-foot-six, Adonis reading an issue of the "Family Circle" magazine entered my mind. My body released a sign of arousal as the result. A titillating chill had run down my spine and left my body hot in its wake. A strong pull formed in the pit of my belly and sank down to my crotch. "Malachi did this?" I sighed. "EEEEEWWWWW!!!" Lynn squealed, as she expressed her disgust. Her shriek snapped me out of my lust-driven reverie. "Shut up Lynn," I grumbled. I managed to brush pass a laughing Lynn and continued to climb the stairs. "The way that you said his name, you sounded like one of those characters from a cheesy romance novel!" "Shut up Lynn," I repeated as I continued to climb to the second floor. "Can you walk properly--?" "Shut up Lynn." "The way your voice made that breathy sigh— "Ugh, can you please shut up?" I groaned. My best friend, the human incubator, continued to laugh at my discomfort. "It's just so funny to me!" I entered the second floor hallway and walked down the narrow hallway 'til I reached the door leading to the middle bedroom. Seeing an adorable door decoration consisting of pink-painted, wooden blocks spelling, "Cadence's Room", with wooden butterflies hanging from the bottom of the blocks. "Oh, this is so cute!" I squealed as my left index finger traced the border of one block. I glanced at Lynn who stood next to me. "This is so cool, Lynn!" Lynn giggled. "I was so happy, that this decoration came out right!" she told me and did a little bounce, which reminded me of an over-eagered Yorkie. She did a little dance as she made her way to the doorknob. "And here's Cadence's Room!" she announced cheerfully before pushing the door open. Then she moved to the side, allowing me to see the nursery. I stood in the nursery's doorway and stared at the beauty that was displayed throughout the bedroom. The days' weather being sunny, the rays were shining through the double windows giving the nursery an ethereal view. 'Oh...my...' The sunlight bounced off the walls and highlighted the pink color, as well as, the white crown molding. There were white, wooden shutters on each window. There were colorful, lace curtains hanging from the windows. The polished, hardwood floorboards were covered by an area rug with hummingbirds and butterflies printed on the crème colored rug. The furniture: the rocking chair, the crib, the armoire and changing table were made from a light cedar wood. "You can't appreciate everything just by standing in the doorway, Lo! Go inside and look at your niece's bedroom!" I suddenly felt nervous. I felt as if I was a clumsy oaf that was in a glass figurine shop. Suddenly, I was hot and sweaty and my skin was buzzing. My stomach felt as if it had fallen down into my asshole. Despite being a total mess, I and my uncoordinated steps entered the nursery. I walked to the center of the bedroom and stared straight ahead towards the windows. "Look at the collage first," I heard Lynn say to me. I glanced over my left shoulder and over at my best friend. The 'mom-to-be' was still standing in the doorway of the nursery. She leaned against the post of the threshold and her hands cupped her pregnant stomach. "The collage," she simply stated with a subtle jerk of her pointed chin. She "pointed" over in the direction of the room's left side. I glanced at the wall and saw the object. It was mounted above the armoire. The collage was about three feet wide and the length was about three feet long. I walked up to the armoire to take a closer inspection of the chosen photos. I recognized most of the pictures. They were photos of Lenora, Malachi and I when we were children. There were pictures of our mothers when they were infants, kids and as teenagers. There were photos of Lenora and Malachi's extended family members. I turned my attention to the photos that held the Patrick children and me. "I added pictures of us when we were kids because I wanted Cadence to know that we were kids once. You know, back when our small problems seemed huge," explained Lynn. "Mmm," I groaned and then coughed. I tried to get rid of the lump lodged in my throat. With a pair of eyeballs that burned with tears, I continued to gaze at the photos. There was one picture that caught my eye, in the center of the sea of photos. It was a ten year-old photograph. It was taken when Malachi was twelve years old while Lynn and I were seven. I remembered the night the picture was taken. Earlier that day, the Patrick Family had moved into their first house. It was a 'lemon' of a house that was a few blocks away from the housing projects. In the photo, all three of us were asleep on Mama Patrick's crushed velvet, burgundy couch. Malachi sat in the middle while Lynn and I took up the space on each of his sides. Lynn's and my head rested on the tops of his thighs while we rested in fetal positions. As we slept, Malachi placed a protective hand on one of our tiny shoulders. Malachi, on the other hand, slept in a seating position. His head was resting on the back of the couch. I relived the memories from that night. I remembered how innocent our opinions and thoughts were during the time. We were ecstatic with the fact that my mom had bought us McDonald's for dinner. I recalled how excited Lynn and Malachi felt about moving into a house that was "far, far, far away" from the housing projects. The two Patrick children considered the South Jamaica Housing Projects as the cause of their misery. We never considered that, because they moved from the projects and lived in a house three blocks away, their troubles with the tenants had ceased. I remembered the moment, when Malachi made a surprising promise to Lynn while in his bedroom. He informed his baby sister they didn't have to worry about their Ma moving her current boyfriend, Paul into their house. It was because their Ma "had a lot of money now". Then he promised no one would hurt them anymore, because he was going to protect them. He made this promise as we listened to Slick Rick's "Hey Young World" that played from his CD player-slash-tape player. I believed it was an appropriate song to play for that moment, when I thought about it retrospectively. I continued to stare at the picture and Malachi's twelve year-old self. 'He was so happy that day,' I thought remembering an image of his cheerful face from that night. He was a child that night. That night, he didn't play the role of "man of the house" and his shoulders didn't hold the 'weight of the world'. The thought of a pre-teen child being saddled with adult-like responsibility and to experience such sadness had made me angry. Suddenly, I felt my heart thumped wildly in my chest cavity while my skin felt hot. 'It is so unfair,' I said to myself. "Chloe?" I turned to face Lynn and found she was standing next to me. I didn't even hear my friend move away from the doorway. "Huh?" I grunted. I noticed that my voice didn't sound the same. My tone was trembling. A breeze had swept into the bedroom and kissed my cheeks. A chill clung to my cheeks. I touched my cheeks and moisture greeted my fingertips. "Are you okay?" she asked with concern. "Um," I groaned. I made a difficult swallow. The lump in my throat was the reason for the difficulty. "I'm alright. I'm just thinking about your brother," I explained. I watched my best friend's facial features contort and shift as she changed emotions. I watched her concerned face turn to an expression of enlightenment and finally shift to a mask of content. "You ain't the only one," she said to me. Lynn wrapped her right arm around my waist and rested her head on my left shoulder. She stared at the photo collage. "Every time I come into this room, I think about him." She quieted down for a moment before she spoke again. "I like to talk shit about my brother from time to time, but I haven't stopped caring about him. Every night, before I go to bed, I pray to God— "I do too," I confessed. "My mom goes to Saint Theresa's every evening before she heads home and she lights a candle for my brother. I remember once, when Malachi was in jail, she told me that she prays to God so that he could give Malachi whatever it is that he is looking for." She sniffled. "I think we all want my brother to find..." Her voice trailed off. I glanced at her. Lynn appeared to be contemplating what to say next..." She shook her head as if she was about to quit her search for the appropriate word. "...find...find..." She scoffed. "Gosh, I don't even know the words to describe— I knew of an appropriate word. "Peace," I said simply. Her eyes lit up. "Yeah," she murmured as a smile appeared on her lips. "We want him to have some form of peace. There's a beast inside of him that's restless. That's what Kenny told me that night, after his dust-up with Malachi. He told me that my brother has a beast inside of him that's constantly awake. I just wish the motherfucker would just do a Rip Van Winkle and fall-the-fuck to sleep finally." A memory from the night Malachi and I had sex flashed in my mind. It was a part of the moment after our first sexual encounter. I remembered the image of his naked, sweaty upper body and his handsome face as he lay on his side of the bed. I remembered the statement he said about the gang of thugs he was hanging out with. "He believes that those Skin Heads are like his family mem— Lynn released my waist and her head jerked off my shoulder. She glared at me. Her hazel eyes burned with anger while her eyebrows wrinkled with contempt. Her cheeks and her nose held a pink tint. "We're his family: Me, Ma, Mama Pat and you too! How could he--- I turned to face her. I placed my hands on her shoulders in order to calm my friend down. "Lenora, calm down," I said to her with a soft voice that was usually reserved for lullabies. "I said he said the gang was 'like a family' for him. The keyword here is 'like'. He is aware that we are his family. He knows this, Sis." The fire and anger left her spirit. I felt her body lose its rigidity. Her eyebrows soothed out, but the luster in her eyes and pink coloring stayed in her cheeks. Her eyes glanced down at the floor. "I just wish that he..." She grimaced. Her angry didn't return. But her sense of frustration had appeared. "He is so fucking talented, Lo, but he is so stupid! He could have a career in making..." Lynn pulled away from my clutches. She snatched my left hand and proceeded to pull me as she walked over to the other side of the bedroom. She led me to the location of the crib. "Look at this crib!" she shouted with passion. She slapped the railing with her hand. "He made this for me! He made this crib for Cadence in less than two months! This was delivered over to my Ma's house last Monday! One of the delivery men told my mother that Malachi had used their boss' furniture factory to make this for me! Look at this crib!" I walked closer to the crib's guard rail and I surveyed the bed. It was a standard, rectangular-shaped crib that consisted of a headboard, rails and a footboard. The wood was polished to perfection. I ran my fingers along the rail's bannister and noticed the different textures underneath my fingertips. My eyes peered down at the rail. 'Holy shit,' my brain gasped while the pleasant surprise settled in. I ran my fingertips along the intricate carvings again. 'He is very talented.' Malachi had created a very beautiful crib for his niece, Cadence. With a 'relief carving technique', he carved different species of fauna and flora into the wood. He carved vines and leaves into the bannister of the guard rails. There were etchings of vines and leaves on the legs of the crib as well. On the 'feet' of the crib there were carvings of flowers and tortoises. In the spokes that made up the rails, there were lady bugs and ants. "Your brother— "Do you see what I mean?! Malachi did all of this! You should see the headboard to the crib!" Before I could make a remark, she gently pushed me in the direction of the headboard. "Just look at it, Lo!" I gazed down at the headboard of the crib... 'HOLE-LEE SHIT!' ...and I had fallen into 'awe' with Malachi. I think that my heart stopped working momentarily. My lungs felt heavy. If I thought I was impressed with the crib's guard rails, then I must've been spellbound by the headboard. Just like the rails, the headboard had the relief carving technique too. He had etched and created a scene in the thick plank of wood. It was a scene of a little girl sitting at the base of a tree. She was smiling and staring up at the sky while she held an opened book on her lap. I recognized that smiling face. I used to see it every day, when we were kids. He used Cadence's mom as his inspiration. At her feet, there were tortoises, rabbits and insects. In the sky, there were butterflies. The name 'Cadence' was carved above the scene, in the Irish-Gaelic font and in an arch formation. "God, my brother is an idiot!" Lynn screamed out in frustration. "Yup," I muttered while being transfixed with the headboard's art. "You know, the crib is not the only thing that he's made! He made everything that is in this room! He made the changing table, the rocking chair and the armoire!" I tore my attention away from the headboard and surveyed the other pieces of furniture; every piece of furniture bearing the same carvings as the crib and headboards engravings. "I..." whimpered Lynn. I turned my focus to Lynn. She stood in the center of the bedroom, appearing frustrated and frazzled. Her waist-length, curly red hair was wild. Her face was glowing with a thin layer of sweat and a pale shade of burgundy. She shifted her weight between both of her feet as she swayed, and her eyes were glossy with tears. Skin to Skin Ch. 04 "Chloe, I want my brother to be a good man. I am sick and tired of worrying..." A pair of tears dripped down her flustered cheeks. "...about whether or not my brother is dead or if he's in jail! I am tired of him using our past as a..." Then she growled out, "fucking crutch for all of the dumb shit that he is doing!" A shrilled-out cry escaped her mouth as she frantically ran her fingers through her ruby mane. "He's going to be an uncle soon and he's..." Her voice trailed off into silence. Her eyes closed as her face grimaced. A cry slipped from her mouth. There were more tears. She covered her face with her hands and then proceeded to sob. Unlike her first outburst, when we were in the mall, I wasn't annoyed with her. I was annoyed with her giant of a brother. 'Wherever you are, Malachi, fuck you for doing this to your family!' I walked over to my crying friend and placed her into my embrace. I felt her arms wrap around me a few seconds later. I held onto her as if I was keeping her from slipping through the floor. "We had a bad childhood," she whimpered into my left ear. "But I turned out alright. I went to school and earned great grades. I went to medical school and now I'm a doctor. I haven't gotten in any trouble at all. Why couldn't he just do the same things?" I honestly couldn't answer her question. So instead, I blurted out "Did he make the rug too?" like a fucking moron. She pulled her head away from my shoulder, staring into my eyes. "What?" she gasped. "I said, did your brother make the area rug too?" I explained. "He made almost everything else in this room, so I figured he must've made the rug too." Lynn's flushed and wet face morphed into a mask of laughter. Her light and melodic giggling showered the walls in the room. Her slightly smaller body trembled as she laughed. Once her laughter died, she pressed her face into my right shoulder. "You better not be wiping your snot on my shoulder, damn it" I quipped. She snorted and then giggled. She released a sigh and then hugged me tighter. I rubbed her back. "You feel better now?" "Mmm-hmm," she hummed. "I'm sorry for releasing all of that pent up anger on you." "It's alright," I told her. It was the truth. "I wish that I had the right words to— "Just you being here is enough for me, Lo," she explained to me. "I haven't been a good friend to you," I confessed. "You are a great friend for me, Lo." "Well, not as of lately," I explained. "For the past two months, I haven't really spoken to you. I..." I stopped speaking, so I could take a deep breath. My nerves were frazzled. "I didn't even come over here, when you told me that you were pregnant. I didn't even help you decorate the nursery. I— "Your phone calls were enough. And besides, I wanted to be alone after I learned about the pregnancy. I needed the time by myself. At the time, I didn't know if I was going to terminate this pregnancy or not. I needed to be by myself and I didn't need anybody to sway my decision." "But I should've been more supportive for you. I should've been here, asking you if you were alright or listening to you rant and rave." "I'm sorry, once again, for unleashing my rant on you. I have been holding all of that in for a while now. I couldn't say anything to Ma because the end result would've been just us crying. And I couldn't go to April, Giselle and Vivienne because they have been M.I.A. ever since I told them about my pregnancy. And I didn't want to speak to Jessie or to Kenny, because the last thing they needed to have on their minds were my troubles," she further explained. "Well, I am here for you so if you need someone to talk to, then you can come to me." "Thank you," she said softly. "No problem." ~oMRo~ "So, speaking of Doctor Kensington Marks..." In my best ghetto-girl impersonation, I asked, "How is your baby-daddy doing?" Lynn's mouth made a hearty guffaw. It was so loud that she used her hands to cover her mouth. She snickered into the palms of her hands for a few more seconds before she answered. "He is alright. He is busy working twenty-four hour shifts at the hospital." "Damn," I muttered. I wiped the corners of my mouth with the soiled napkin. "There isn't enough money in the world that would make me work at my job for twenty-four hours." Lynn giggled. "I worry about his health. It's the doctor in me. He's been working this way ever since I told him that I was pregnant. At first, I thought he was working so hard because he wanted to avoid me. But it turns out that he is trying to accumulate enough 'comp time', so he can take 'paternity leave' when the baby comes." "Awww," I hummed as the sensation of swooning filled my spirit. "He's a sweetie-pie!" Lynn giggled. Taking a bite of her roasted chicken before agreeing with me . "Yeah, he is a sweetie-pie and pain in my ass too! Every day, he calls and asks about the baby. And he wants me to explain everything in detail! If the baby moves, he wants full descriptions of the feelings in detail! If I am confused about what type of scrubs I want to wear, if I tell him about it, he wants to know how the scrubs look and wants me to be very descriptive! If I am thinking about what to eat for dinner, he wants details! If I am taking a massive shit in the bathroom, if I tell him— "Why would you tell him about your bowel movements?" I laughed. "I wouldn't, but knowing that fool, he would ask me about it!" she giggled. We laughed as we sat on Lynn's couch, totally ignoring the movie we were supposed to be watching. After Lynn's emotional unraveling in her daughter's nursery, we returned to the first level of the house. We cooked our dinner and continued to chat throughout the process. Then taking our meals into the living room, we planned on watching movies during dinner. We were in the process of watching the first movie, which was a shitty horror movie titled 'VHS', when we began our conversation. "What does Kensington think about Malachi?" I asked. It was an inquiry that had been loitering in my mind since I found out about the infamous fist-fight that occurred between the two men. Lynn released a huff and ran her left fingers through her thick mane. "Well," she sighed. "Kenny knows I love my brother very much. He knows Ma loves my brother very much as well, so Kenny is not going to say anything harsh about him. He also is refraining from telling me about his true opinions about him." Lynn sighed and ran her left fingers through her thick mane again. "Kenny hasn't given me any guidelines and rules about Malachi's future interaction with Cadence, but I know he has reservations." "Mmm," I hummed. I had reached for my glass of chardonnay that was on the coffee table. I had taken a sip of the white wine before I reclined back on the couch. "You have yet to tell me what happened between Malachi and Kenny, on that night." Lynn scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Do you really want to know the story?" "Mmm-hmm," I said with a sly smirk. She sighed. "Alright, but let me give you a bit of backstory. I told Ma, who later on told Malachi, about being pregnant first. I didn't tell her about Kenny until a few days later. You already know about my mom's reaction. But, I've never told you about Malachi's reaction. He was upset but he wasn't devastated. He wanted to know about Kenny. I told him a few things about Kenny, with the exception of his race. He appeared to like Kenny. Now, let's fast forward this story to the night of the fight. My Ma invited Kenny and me over for dinner. Ma, being Ma busted Kenny's balls at first. But, over time, she had shown her nicer side. The dinner was going great at first, then Malachi came home and everything went to shit." "What happened? What did your jackass-of a-brother say to Kenny?" "He didn't say anything at first. He just glared..." Lynn actually shuddered. "...throughout dinner. He remained quiet even after Ma made the introductions. He didn't say anything until Ma called Kenny 'her son'. Then my dumb brother made a racist statement about black men 'being allergic to responsibility and marriage'. By then, Kenny had enough with my brother's antics and so did Ma. Ma told Malachi he was acting like a douchebag. Then Malachi had gotten angry about being insulted in front of Kenny. Malachi insulted Ma, which led to me defending her. Then he called me a 'fucking coal burner' which set Kenny off. The next thing that I knew, Malachi and Kenny are fighting in the dining room! Ma, somehow, managed to break the fight up. She slapped Malachi and screamed at him. She told him that she wanted him out of her house before the night was over." I stared at Lynn with a look of mild surprised. "Well, got-damn," I hummed. "After everything was said and done, what did Kenny say?" "Kenny, unbelievably, doesn't have any animosity towards my brother. He told me that night, while driving me home he didn't think Malachi was really racist. He thinks he is angry. He's angry at Ma and all of her boyfriends. Just so happens that my Ma's boyfriends were black as is my dad. Kenny believes if my mom's boyfriends were white and as abusive towards her, Malachi would've still turned out the same way. It's because of the beast that is inside him. It is the beast that was formed from all of the anger he is feeling. Kenny believes that Malachi is hanging out with those Skin-Heads not because he is a racist, but because they have the same type of anger issues that he has. All of them are angry at someone, but rather than handle their issues in a healthy fashion, they are lashing out at innocent people. They are all festering together with their hatred." 'Way to go, Kenny with the assessment,' I said to myself before taking another sip of my wine. "Kenny was on point with his assessment," I told her. "He must've been a shaman in one of his past lives." "Now in this life, he is an over-worked Jamaican" she said before she had taken a sip of her water. I snickered. "Yeah, he does have a freaky sense of perception. It's a part of what makes him a great doctor." She had taken another sip of water. "Plus, he doesn't think that Malachi is racist because you and he boned— 'WHAT?!' I knew that my eyes were bulging as I glared at my best friend. She had just shocked the hell out of me. "Lynn, why did you tell Kenny I slept with your brother?! Oh my God, Lynn!" Lynn looked at me as if I started speaking in Latin. "Chloe, calm down— "Lynn— "Chloe, calm down, I had to tell Kenny about you and Malachi, because he saw your robe underneath his bed. He also saw your initials on the robe too. He managed to put 'two and two together' and I just re-affirmed his theory." "He probably thinks that I am a self-hating Negro, bed wench that was just waiting for some pink penis." Lynn's laughter was loud and boisterous. She even spilled some of her drinking water on her legs. "A self-hating Negro bed wench, Chloe?" she wheezed out in between her laughs. Her right hand was splayed against her collarbone as she continued to laugh. Tears sparkled like diamonds as they spilled down her full cheeks. "It's true, Lynn!" "Oh quit acting like a dramatic, teenaged girl, Lo! If I wanted to be around a drama queen, I would've called up one of the girls and hung out with them. Why are you acting this way?" I rolled my eyes and drained my wine glass. "It's because of your brother. His pink penis has somehow turned me into a white teenaged girl," I stated dryly. I watched my pregnant and surprisingly nimble friend recline her upper body backwards until her head landed on the couch's armrest. During her descent of resting her head on the couch's armrest, she continued releasing hoarse and raucous laughter into the atmosphere. "Oh!" she shouted out, after her fit ended. "I needed that!" "Well, I am glad to be of service. I will be charging you the next time." I stood up from my seat, grabbed the empty plate that once held my dinner. "Let me help," I heard my friend say. "Lo, help me up please!" I placed my wine glass and plate back on the dinner tray. I walked over to my friend and held out my hand to her. Lynn grabbed my hand, so I could help her up to her feet. She took her time, but managed to get on her feet. We took our used dishes into the kitchen, cleaning them. Also cleaning other appliances used during our cooking session. Once the kitchen was cleaned, I presented Lynn with a surprise; her favorite pie from our favorite bakery. Lynn shrieked with excitement when I presented her with the chocolate mousse pie. It was as if I had given her a shit-load of diamond jewelry. Lynn grabbed a knife from the silverware drawer and cut the tiniest fucking slice for me, a child-sized portion. Then she grabbed the rest of the pie, a fork and proceeded to waddle her ass out of the kitchen. "Thanks," I said to her retreating form. I stared down at the saucer that held my anorexic slice of pie. "What-the-hell, man?" After I inhaled my slice of chocolate mousse pie while I was standing in the kitchen, I made my way back to the living room. Lynn was seated on the couch, eating her pie and watching the remainder of the horror movie. I sat next to her. "So," she started out saying as she continued to watch the movie. "What have you been doing during these past few weeks?" "Nothing much: working, sleeping and eating. I did a M.P. Detox Program as well." "What is the M.P. Detox Program? Is it like some type of colon cleansing thing?" she asked. "It is the 'Malachi Patrick Detox Program'," I told her. She giggled. "What does the Malachi Patrick Detox Program consist of?" "Well, first it consists of berating one's self and then craving for the d— I realized that his sister was sitting next to me. "Um, I craved for some... Some more attention from your brother and then I would berate myself again. That first stage lasts about two to three weeks. The second stage is addressing the cold hard facts." "What are the 'cold, hard facts'?" she asked before she licked mousse off her fork. "Malachi and I could never ever have sex again. If that were to happen again, I don't think my heart could do it without being unscathed in the process. I am not the type of person who is into the 'Friends with benefit-I came, I saw and I fucked' thing. I am more of the 'monogamous relationship-I love to make love to the man that I love' type of person. I'm already crushing on your brother as it is. And your brother doesn't give off the 'I'm looking for Mrs. Right' vibe. Can you imagine how I would feel if I had sex with him again? I would probably be figuring out the details of our wedding and names of our babies before I could even cum. Another 'cold, hard fact' is that your brother has some deep-rooted issues, he needs to deal with. If you haven't notice, your brother is the type of 'bad boy' that every good woman should avoid. He's definitely what I like to call a 'fixer upper'. I'm sure that any woman would love to help him and to take care of him. He's the perfect candidate: he's cute, he's moody, he has a nice body and he could definitely fuck a woman until she is comatose..." Lynn made a grimace once she heard about her brother's sexual prowess. "...Yeah, my dumb ass will definitely catch some feelings and end up being hurt by him. Another fact about your brother: I don't think that I could ignore that damn swastika that is tattooed on his chest anymore. Every time I think about it, I do feel like a self-hating Negro bed wench. And those are the 'cold, hard facts'." "Is there another stage to you detox program?" "Mmm-hmm," I hummed. "So, after thinking about those 'cold, hard facts', I moved onto 'Stage Three' of the Malachi Patrick Detox Project, which is 'Whenever I am thinking about what life could be like with your brother, I think about my list of Cold, Hard Facts'. Stage Three lasted for about two more weeks. 'Stage Four' was the most annoying stage." "What did you do for 'Stage Four'?" she asked with an amused smile. "I had gone out with a few guys on some dates," I answered while staring at the plasma screen. Lynn chuckled. "Well the best way to get over a guy is to get underneath another one— "And get a venereal disease in the process? No, thank you. I had gone on a few dates just to prove to myself there are normal-thinking and decent men out there. They should be the ones that I should think about pursuing and not your brother." "So what were they like?" "There were four dates and all of them were boring. No, let me take that back. All of them were just unattractive," I informed her. "I didn't clique with any of them. I felt like I was on dates with my uncles." "Ugh, that's a bummer! Where did you meet these dudes?" "Through my mom," I informed her. "Mama Pat hooked you up?!" Lynn found this info to be interesting. "What were they like?" "They were older than me. The youngest of them was thirty-seven— "Thirty-seven?! Why did Mama Pat try to hook you up with all of them old ass men?!" "My mom believes that an older man is more likely to want a wife than a younger man," I explained to my friend. "Yeah, and it just so happens that these men want to date a younger woman rather than a woman that is near their age," Lynn sarcastically muttered. She placed her fork down and pushed her pie away from her. She leaned further into the couch's cushions. "Is there any more steps to the M.P. Detox Program?" "Yeah, one final step," I told her. "It is accepting the fact that Malachi is not the same Malachi that I knew when we were kids. Throughout this whole process, I had this ongoing problem which was for every step that I took towards being 'healed', I ended up taking four steps backwards. Every time when I figure out a 'cold, hard fact', I had taken 'four steps back' by assuming that Malachi is still the same as that boy I grew up with. The final stage for me is finally acknowledging that he isn't the same person anymore." All Lynn said was a simple "Oh". The movie ended twenty-three minutes later. By then, we were both tired and physically drained, thanks to that day's activities. Lynn was asleep by the time the movie's closing credits were flashing on the television's screen. I had to tap her on her left knee in order to wake her. "What?" she murmured as her eyes were still closed. "Lynn, come on, get up." "What? Why?" she said in a groggy state. "The movie is over and you're falling asleep. Come on and get up, so you can go upstairs to bed," I informed her. "Okay," she hummed. She continued to remain seated on her couch, for a few seconds. Her hazel eyes opened and blinked until she could focus. Her right hand rubbed her eyelids as she took a deep breath, pulling her hand away from her face and grabbing the cushion that lay underneath her. She slowly rose to her feet, moving a few steps away from the couch. I followed her. "Don't worry about the pie and everything, I'll put it in the fridge for you," I informed her. "Oh, I had forgotten about that," she muttered. She walked over to the base of the staircase that led to the second floor. "Thank you." "You're welcome," I told her. "Now, go upstairs and get some sleep." Lynn turned to face me. Her sleepy eyes gazed at me. "Thank you for today," she said in a soft voice. She threw her arms around me and gave me a hug. "Thank you for everything," she said into my left shoulder. "You're welcome," I told the top of her head. "Now have a good night and don't worry about cleaning up. I'll do it for you and lock up your house before I leave tonight," I informed her. "Thanks." "Now, you and the bambina can go to bed," I told her as I gave her ample butt a gentle swat. Lynn giggled. "Okay." She released me from her hold and turned towards the staircase. "Good night, Lo. I'll talk to you tomorrow," she told me as she climbed up the stairs. Skin to Skin Ch. 04 "I'll talk to you!" I told her retreating back. "I'll text your phone when I get home tonight!" "Okay!" I listened to Lynn's footsteps as she climbed up the stairwell. Once I was sure that she was on the second floor, I walked away from the staircase and further into the living room. I walked over to the couch and proceeded to clean up the light clutter. I organized the contents that were on the octagon-shaped coffee table. I removed the DVD from the Samsung player and organized the small stack of DVD covers that were on the entertainment system. Then, I walked over to the space that was in between the couch and coffee table. I grabbed one of the folding TV trays and was about to fold it close, when I heard an anchor's voice play from Lynn's sixty-inch television. "...A tragedy occurred in the Bowery section of Manhattan which left three people dead and two people seriously injured. The tragedy stems from an ugly hate crime in which the victims are a mother and her two young children. The perpetrators were a gang of Neo-Nazi Skin Heads..." I turned my head so quickly that a sharp pain burst in the tendon. I turned my attention to the television and stared at the screen. The folding TV tray slipped from my hands and fell onto the carpeted floor. I had an 'out of body' experience, as clichéd as it sounds. I didn't feel normal. My hands and feet tingled. There was a tennis ball-sized lump wedged into my throat. According to my vision, everything appeared slowed down. The only thing that appeared normal was the news program that was playing from Lynn's television. I stared at the screen and into the eyes of Kaity Tong, the news anchor. "...The incident occurred in the early hours of Friday morning. For more information, our Tony Megars is at the scene of where this brutal crime had taken place..." The news program changed to another shot. Now there was a shot of another news anchor. It was a handsome man, who wore a three-piece suit and too much foundation on his face. He stood in the center of an asphalt street, in an empty neighborhood. The background showing more of the empty street and the night's sky. The headline "Tony Megars, the Bowery District, Lower Manhattan" was displayed at the bottom of the screen. "Thank you, Kaity" the anchorman said into his microphone. "During the early hours of Friday morning, twenty-five year old mother and dental hygienist Carolina Faye was traveling from Buffalo, New York to her parents' home in Ridgewood, Queens, when her car suddenly experienced car trouble after one of her children had to use a bathroom. By then, Carolina was in the lower Manhattan, in the Bowery District, so she thought that she could find help right away. Instead, Carolina found disaster— The camera's focus shifted to the area that was behind the camera man. It was an empty intersection. There weren't any houses or any other types of residential homes. There were abandoned buildings and dilapidated structures, as well as, closed auto-body garages. "—on Mott Street. Carolina Faye, a mother of two children, was driving in her 1996 Honda Accord had managed to pull her car along the curb without getting into any accidents..." There was new footage on the television screen. In this new footage, it was a woman. She was sitting upright in a hospital bed, in a hospital room. The woman's oblong-shaped face was heavily bruised and scarred. There were stitches that held her top lip together, as well as, keeping the flesh above her left eyebrow held together. Her right eye was swollen four times its usual size and covered with a bruise. The bruise started at her hairline and ended at her jawline. Her long, elegant neck was covered with purple bruises. There was a blood clot in the sclera of her left eye. On the bottom of the screen, there was another headline and it consisted of just a name, 'Carolina Faye'. "This is Carolina Faye," the reporter's voice narrated as they showed the woman. "I had received a call from my mother," Carolina had spoken with her light-weight Filipina accent. "My grandfather was taken to the hospital and he was dying. My grandfather and I are very close, so I knew that I needed to be there for him. I live in Buffalo with my husband and my children. We don't have a lot of money to buy plane tickets and I know my way by car, so I drove. On my way onto the FDR, my son told me he needed to use the restroom, so I got off the highway to find a gas station. I had gotten off of the highway and I knew that I was in Manhattan. During that time, my car stopped driving— The footage changed again and I was staring at Tony's makeup-layered face. "And that's when the trouble began. Carolina's car had managed to stall in this neighborhood. She was able to park her car here..." Tony stood on the edge of a sidewalk's curb. With the index card that he held in his left hand, he pointed to the street. The camera operator had shown the asphalt street. "Ever since Carolina's son, ten year-old son Eduardo, couldn't find a bathroom, he had to be resourceful. So the Faye Family left the safety of their car and..." Tony the anchorman had walked away from the curb, over to the façade of an abandoned building. "...came over here, so the young boy could use the bathroom. After young Eduardo was finished, the Faye's turned back around to go back to their car. But, when they approached their car, there was trouble waiting for them. A small group of Skin Heads were waiting for them. According to Carolina and her son, there were eight of them: seven men and one woman. According to ten year-old Eduardo, these thugs did not say anything to them. They just attacked. Based off the testimony of the young boy, three men and the lone woman had assaulted Carolina while one held onto two year-old Ivelisse and two men assaulted ten year-old Eduardo. As Carolina was beaten down to the ground, she heard the men cruelly taunt her two year-old daughter— Carolina's battered face was presented to me again. In this scene, the young woman was crying. Her face was coated with tears. "I could hear them yell at my children," she sobbed. "They were saying such..." Her voice had trailed off so she could cry. She released a few sobs and gasps. Her chest heaved with every gasp. "They were saying such horrible things to them. And then I felt someone grab my jacket and rip it off me— I was greeted by Tony Megars' face again. "Just when Carolina thought that she was going to die, she was saved by an unlikely hero— Carolina's face was shown again. She wasn't crying, but her face was still shining with moisture. "I heard a man yell at them to stop. And the men and woman stopped beating on me," she reported with a firmer tone of voice. "He had told them that were crazy and they were asking for trouble. Then he yelled at them to leave me and my kids alone. He told them they needed to go back to the house. I remember that part very well because he said it more than once. He said they needed to go back to the house." I heard Tony's voice say, "He said they should 'go back to the house'?" Carolina nodded her head. "He said they should 'go back to the house'?" She nodded her head again. 'YES, YOU IDIOT!' my brain screamed at the television screen. "And then one of the men who attacked me told him they were going to kill me and my children. At that point, my son began to cry louder. The guy who had shown up didn't say anything at first. I don't know what he was doing because I couldn't see anything. But then I heard a loud 'Boom' noise. It sounded like thunder. It made my ears rang. I had a loud ringing noise playing in my ears. Then I felt something hit me on the back of my head while I was on the ground. Once the boom noise was gone, I heard my kids scream and then there was another boom..." I watched Carolina subtly shake her head. "After that I must've passed out because that is the last thing I remember. The next thing I remember is waking up in this room— There was more footage of Tony as he stood on the empty street. "According to Carolina's son, the 'boom' noises were actually gunshots. Their hero had pulled out a gun from his jacket and had shot two of the men. The first man was the person who said that he was going to kill the mother and the kids and the second was a person who charged at the gunman. Once the second body landed on the ground, the other thugs left the scene of the crime. Then, according to the young boy, the gunman had picked up an unconscious Carolina and carried her back to her car. Then, in a shocking turn of events, the gunman told Eduardo to use his mom's cell phone to call the police. We have an exclusive excerpt from the '911' call..." Next, the program showed a cheesy graphic that had closed captioning for the transcript of the 911 recording. I listened to a little boy who sounded frightened and on the verge of crying, but he was trying to remain strong. He was acting strong for his mother and baby sister. Despite being in the eye of the storm, Eduardo Faye remained calm enough to give the 911 operator information. After the 'news exclusive' was shown, Tony the reporter was shown on my screen. He still stood in the center of the street. "It didn't take police long to arrive at the scene and when they did, they were welcomed with a grisly scene." There was new footage. This time, there was a police officer being interviewed. A headline was posted at the bottom of the screen. "Det. Atticus Fench, NYPD" was added to the footage. 'How odd,' I thought as I read the detective's name. "When police officers arrived, they found two bodies lying on the sidewalk and the Faye Family was hiding in their car," the police officer explained with a deep Brooklyn dialect. "Her two children, ten year-old Eduardo and two year-old Ivelisse were sitting in the backseat of the car while Mrs. Faye was positioned in the driver's seat of the car. She was unconscious when the officers arrived. Her son was actually using a t-shirt to compress the wounds on his mother's face. Paramedics having arrived fortunately, and was able to take Mrs. Faye and her children to a nearby hospital." There was another shot of Tony Megars. "While the Faye Family was being treated at the hospital, NYPD's Finest were on the search for the thugs who attacked the family and the mysterious gunman, who left the scene before the police arrived. Turns out, police managed to complete one objective..." There was more of Tony's narration, when another bit of footage was displayed. In this new scene, it was another location of the Bowery District. Just like the crime scene in which the Faye Family was assaulted, this neighborhood was empty and made up of abandoned buildings. In this footage, there were police squad cars parked in the street and haphazardly on the sidewalks. There were cops standing in the street and on the sidewalks. Then there was a shot of a body that lay in the middle of the street. A white sheet covered the corpse. There was a blood stain on the white sheet. "...According to a police officer who requested to remain anonymous, police officers had approached a small group of five Caucasians who were walking down Mott Street. The gang of thugs refused to cooperate with the police officers and attacked the officers. As a result, police officers opened fire. Two of the gang members were taken down by the police officers. One member was killed while the other members were seriously wounded. From what we were told, the dead member is a woman and the other gunshot victim was a man. For the deceased, her age could've ranged from sixteen years to twenty-nine years old..." 'Oh my God,' I murmured in my mind. The notion that someone's sixteen year-old baby was slain and left in the middle of the street, entered my mind. Then I began to wonder if she had caring parents, who were waiting up and wondering about their daughter's whereabouts. Or did she have the type of parents who were selfish and neglectful? Were they abusive towards her? Was she a New York native or was she raised in some other State? "...The other shooting victim-slash-suspect was taken to Bellevue Hospital Center, where he is expected to recover from his wounds. From what we know about this man, he is in his late teens and early twenties. Based off the apparel he was wearing during the time, he is a part of some type of Neo-Nazi Movement. He is also considered to be a suspect in the attack of Carolina Faye. Speaking of Carolina Faye, she is expected to make a full recovery from her injuries. She was kept in the hospital, so her Doctors could observe her overnight. According to August Faye, Carolina's husband, their children are physically okay, but they are still pretty shaken up about the whole ordeal. Hopefully, the police will catch the rest of the thugs who did this heinous act before they are given the chance to do it to someone else. I'm Tony Megars, reporting live from the Bowery District, Lower East Side of Manhattan. Back to you, Kai— The television screen had gone black. The living room was silent. 'What-the-hell just happened to the television?' I wondered. Then I felt my fingertips brush against a hard piece of rubber. I stared down at my hands and saw the remote control nestled against my palms. 'What?' my brain muttered. I didn't even know I had the remote control. Then I realized I was sitting on the couch. I didn't remember when I sat down on the brown, microfiber couch. 'How did I...?' Then I began to think about the events that had just unfolded. A woman and her young children were attacked and left with enough horrible memories that will probably haunt them for the rest of their lives. Three people were killed and one person was hospitalized. All I could think about was that Malachi was involved with these crimes someway. ~oMRo~ The image of Carolina Faye's battered face stayed inside of my mind as I drove home that night. I tried not to think about Carolina and her two children, but my mind couldn't stop thinking about them. I drove my car into my driveway and drove up to the seven-foot-tall wooden gates. On the other side of the tall gates, there was the other half of the driveway and it was the location where I parked my car. I exited my car and was greeted by a chilly wind. I felt the flesh on my arms pucker into goose-pimples while I shuddered. I used my right hip to shut the car's door as I rubbed my forearms. I walked towards the front of the car and slipped into the space in between the car and the gates. I used the car's bright headlights as an aid to see. I unlocked the gate and pushed the doors open. I traveled back to the car. I pulled the car into the other half of the driveway and came to halt before my car could enter the backyard. I turned off the engine and stepped out of my vehicle. I retrieved all of my belongings from the trunk of the car before I headed towards my ranch-style house. I walked down the driveway and into my backyard. The backyard was showered with light, courtesy of the security lights mounted on the side of the house. I climbed up the steps of my deck that led to the back door of my house, walking over to the black, wrought iron storm door. I looked down at my Coach purse and proceeded to unfasten the clutch that kept it together. I was on the search for my house keys. 'Where are they?' I wondered as I stared at the miscellaneous items that I stored. 'Come on, you blasted piece of— A strong wind that was chilly and heavy struck my back and caused my cotton dress to flutter. I jerked and a squeal escaped from my mouth. "Ooooh, why is it so fucking cold out here? It's August, for Pete's sake!" I stuck my right set of fingers into the bag. I used my fingertips to search for my keys. "Alright, where did I put my stupid keys?" Another strong wind swept through my backyard and nipped at every sliver of bare skin. "Got-damn it," I groaned as my search for my stupid house keys continued. The wind stopped blowing fortunately. As soon as the wind stopped blowing, the humidity and temperature had returned. I was thankful for it as I stood on the deck and outside of my house. It was at this moment when I first heard it. My fingertips grazed the plastic cap that was attached to my tube of lip gloss at the time. I recognized the sound when I first heard it. There was an inhale. A millisecond later, I heard an exhale. It was the sound of someone breathing. I knew it hadn't come from me. Suddenly, I felt an odd but familiar feeling. The last time I felt this sensation was over two months ago. I felt my body being pulled away from the storm door. I felt my purse slip out of my hands. The plastic handles from the shopping bags dug cruelly into the skin of my left wrist. I felt a thick band of strength wrap around my midsection and another band of strength wrap around my collarbone and shoulders. I heard the sound of my keys hit the wooden floorboards of the deck. I heard the storm door slam horribly against the frame. Finally, I felt my body slam against a large substance that was hard. My levels of fear shot up. I followed my basic instinct which was to struggle against this person. I tried to elbow this person's torso. I tried to kick his shins with the heels of my feet. I tried to stomp down on his toes. But I couldn't move. There was a raspy groan which was followed by a gasp. The grip became tighter against my torso. "Chloe." The voice sounded somewhat familiar, but the voice was altered. The voice belonged to a man. "Chloe, please don't scream," he told me. His voice sounded softer. It sounded weaker. "Malachi?" I said softly. "Yeah, it's me," he murmured. "Can you let me go?" I asked him. "Y-Yeah." He removed his arms from off my torso. I quickly stepped away from him and turned to face him. He stood in front of me, a few feet away. His face was covered with a hood that was attached to the jacket that he wore. His right arm was pressed against his stomach. I saw that his tall and bulky frame was violently shaking. "What's wrong with you?" I asked him. "C-C-Can I-I-I-I c-c-c-ome in..." His voice trailed off. He released a gagging sound from his mouth. He turned away from me and he trotted over to the deck's railing. He hunched over the railing and proceeded to vomit. He continued to vomit while I walked over to where he was standing. I stood next to his hunched form and placed my hand on his back. I rubbed his massive back as he emptied his stomach. His body trembled under my touch. Once the gagging and heaving stopped, he coughed a few times. I tried to look at his face. "Malachi, have you been drinking?" I asked him. "No," I heard my friend's brother gasp. "So, what's wrong with you?" "Can I come inside?" he inquired with a steady voice. "Yeah," I said to him as I removed my hand from off his back. "You can come inside." I walked away from Malachi and traveled to the back door. I picked up my purse, my keys and the other objects that were on the floor. Then I proceeded to unlock and open the back door. I stepped inside of my lit den and glanced over my right shoulder to stare at Malachi. I found him, still on the deck. I saw his struggles to stand upright. His body shook as he slowly rose. 'Something is wrong,' I thought as I stared at him. "Malachi?" "Yeah, I'm coming," I heard him say to me. His voice was strained. 'Oh yeah, something is definitely wrong.' I placed my shopping bags on the floor, by the side of the doorway. I stepped back onto the deck and traveled over to where Malachi stood. I placed a supportive hand on his back and my other hand on his left wrist. I felt him tense up. "Come on, let me help you," I told him before slipping my head in between his arm and ribs. In this position, I smelled the scent of blood and metal on him. It caused my stomach turn with nausea. Skin to Skin Ch. 04 'What happened to you?' We slowly made our way to the back door. I helped him step inside of the house and den. I guided Malachi across to the other side of the room, where my black leather couch was located. I helped him sit down, he let out a trembling groan. Once I was relieved of his weight, my neck and shoulders screamed out in pleasure. "Do you want anything to drink?" I asked him as I straightened upright. "Just water," he grunted. "Okay." I walked away from the couch and through the den to enter into the 'open kitchen'. In the kitchen, fetched Malachi a glass of cool water. I returned to his side a few minutes later and I noticed he held an orange-colored pill bottle in his hands. His thick and long fingers were fumbling with the bottle's cap. "What are those?" I asked him as I pointed to his pill bottle. He ignored me and continued to try to open the bottle. I sat down on the couch and watched him. I watched Malachi make a few more attempts and then snatched the bottle out of his hands. I gave him the glass of water. He held the glass with a shaky hand. "Hold onto the glass..." I observed the bottle that was in my right hand. I noticed that there were eight white pills inside of the plastic vial. There was a label. I twirled the bottle inside of my hand and read the words that were on the label. The pills were buprenorphine and there was an instruction for the person to eat food prior to ingesting the pills. 'Why is he taking these painkillers?' I wondered. I glanced over to Malachi. I believed that he was glaring at me. But I couldn't see his face because he was still wearing his hood. With my left hand, I reached out to touch his hood. He jerked his head backwards and away from my probing hand. "Malachi, let me see your face," I asked him. "No," he grunted. "Malachi, let me see your face please." He didn't say anything to me. He moved his head closer to my hand. He moved his head until my hand touched his skull. I knew that this peculiar action was his way of asking me to remove the hood. I grabbed the hem of the hood in between my index and middle fingers. My gut instinct told me that I was going to see something horrible. My hand trembled as I lifted the hood away from his face. The first bit of skin that I viewed was his chin. I saw that his chin was covered with red stubble. His full lips were the second thing I saw as I lifted the hood. His lips were slightly discolored. The third thing that I saw was his bruised right cheek and then there was his nostril. His left nostril had a few stitches. I lifted the hood up and saw how badly his face appeared. His entire right face was covered with a multi-colored bruise. The bruise was purple, dark blue, yellowish and slightly red. The bridge of his nose had a few stitches. On his forehead, there was a hideous scar and it was closed by numerous black stitches. His right eye was swollen to the point where it was forcibly closed. The skin under left was slightly swollen and bruised. His pale blonde hair was stained with dried blood. "Oh," I gasped before I covered my agape mouth with both of my hands. My nausea rose to a dangerous height and caused my throat to constrict. I retched into my hands. I managed to make it to the kitchen's sink before I could make a nasty mess with my vomit. I relieved the discomfort that was inside of my stomach by spewing the contents into the sink. I made a few dry heaves before I was able to stop. I noticed that my hand was in the sink and was covered with my vomit. "Shit," I groaned. I used my left hand, the clean one, to turn on the water. I washed my dirty hand, and then used my hands as a cup to store water as I cleaned out my mouth. Once I gathered my composure, I stared out of the small rectangle-shaped window above the sink. I stared at my backyard. I wasn't looking for anything in particular. I wanted to avoid looking at Malachi's battered, nausea-inducing face. I didn't know how long I was staring out of the window, but I knew that a significant amount of time had passed because I heard Malachi speak. "I'm going to leave." I turned away from the window and stared at Malachi. He was struggling to get up from the couch. I quickly made my way over to where he was seated. I invaded his personal space and touched his thick right shoulder. "No, I don't want you to leave, Malachi," I told him. His mangled face tilted up and his grey eye stared at me. I believed his eye looked dull and weak. His eye didn't hold that predatory gleam I first saw on the night we had sex. Malachi stared at me for a few more seconds before he made his second move. He had chosen to relax in his seat and to rest the back of his head on the couch's back. His face was facing the ceiling, yet his eye was focused on me. My eyes drifted down to his hands. I saw that he was still holding the bottle of buprenorphine. I kneeled in front of him. I grabbed the pill bottle from his right hand. I unlocked the cap from the bottle. "Malachi..." I said softly while I stuck two of my fingers into the bottle. "Did you eat anything?" I asked, as I snatched a pill in between my index and middle fingers. "Mmm, did you eat anything, hun?" I removed the pill from the bottle. I didn't hear an answer from him. "Well, I am going to assume that you didn't eat, so I am not going to give you any pills until you do," I explained to him. I rose to my feet and left the den again. Entering the kitchen and going to the cupboards over the stove. I opened the cupboard of canned goods. I took out a can of chicken stock to heat it up. During the process, I occasionally glanced over my shoulder at Malachi to make sure he was still sitting there. He was still seated. He stared up at my ceiling. I didn't know if he was awake or not. Once his meal was ready, I placed the steaming hot soup into a bowl. I fetched a spoon and a few napkins before I made my way over to Malachi. "Here you go," I announced as I held out the bowl of soup. Malachi didn't move at first, but eventually he sat upright. His hands clasped onto the bowl. I slipped the spoon into the soup. "Take your time with that soup. It's hot and plus you have an empty stomach," I notified him. I stood in front of Malachi until I saw the hulking man take his first bite. I muttered, 'I'll be right back' and walked out of the den. I entered the dark corridor that led to the living room, the main bathroom and the three bedrooms. I pressed down on the light switch mounted on the left wall outside the den's entryway. The corridor was showered with light. I made a right turn in the hallway and walked to the end, where I was met by the door that led to the master bedroom, my bedroom. I entered the bedroom and turned on the nightstands' lamp. In the bedroom, I changed the bedding on my king-sized bed. Before I left the den, I already decided that Malachi was going to sleep in my bed. I used old bed linen for the mattress. When I returned to the den, twenty minutes later, I found Malachi missing from the couch. I was about to panic, but I heard the sound of rushing water. I focused on the large form that in the kitchen, becoming filled with instant relief. He stood in front of the sink as he washed the bowl. "You..." His body jolted as the first word left my mouth. A blood-freezing, low groan erupted from his body. I noticed his hands dropped the bowl in the sink. His dripping wet hands touched at his stomach. "What's wrong with your stomach?" I asked him. Then I remembered the moment when I saw Malachi stand on my deck. At the time, his arm was pressed against his stomach. I pulled this out of my memory bank and I stared at Malachi. "Tell me—No—Show me what is wrong with your stomach." I watched his stormy grey eye glare at me. I knew that his eye was trying to intimidate me. But I stood my ground. "Malachi, show me your god-damn stomach please." I took a few steps closer to him. His eye still stared at me. "Do you want a pill? If so, let me see your stomach." I saw his hands removed themselves from his stomach. His right finger reached up to the collar of his jacket, where the zipper rested. His fingers pulled the zipper down. I didn't see anything at first. All I saw was a sliver of pale white skin. Then he pulled the flaps of his jacket away from his body. The sight that greeted me was frightening and nauseated. His chest and his stomach were decorated with scars, bruises and cuts. There were three deep lacerations: one laceration was across his chest, one laceration was underneath his chest and the third one was across his lower stomach. Each laceration was treated with staples. With the limited medical expertise that I had, I knew that the administrator was an amateur when it came to the staples' application. Some parts of the lacerations held too many staples and some were barely hanging on. His shoulders and his ribs held thin cuts that were minor. A nasty bruise covered his left pectoral and on the right side of his ribs. He looked like he should've been a part of a horror movie. My mind was filled with darkness as I surveyed his injuries. I assume that it was a case of shock and horror that consumed me. My hearing was also affected. I couldn't hear anything. All I heard was a bland and dull buzzing in my ear canals. I had to turn away from the sight. I stared at the wall. This action seemed to have done the trick because my ability to think had returned. But, it was definitely a feat. 'Why? Why? Why?' I murmured repeatedly inside of my head. "Malachi, who did this to you?" I asked him, with my voice trembling. He didn't say anything. "Who did this to you?" He remained silent. His refusal to answer my question caused my ire to raise. "Please answer my question," I demanded with a stern tone of voice. I sniffed. "Malachi, did you...?" I sighed. "A woman and her two young kids were attacked by a gang of skin-heads on Friday morning. This happened in Manhattan..." I stared into his eye. "...in the morning. Did you have anything to do with that?" He didn't say anything, so I continued speaking. "Did you know that two of those thugs were shot by the police? One was killed by the cops and the other was wounded..." I walked closer to Malachi. "...The one that was killed was a woman. They stated that she could've been a sixteen year-old girl. Did you know her?" I remained focused on his unscathed eye. I hoped that I could see some emotion in his eye. Once I was close enough to him, I smelled blood. I tore my attention away from his face and I gazed down at his torso. "Who fixed you up, Malachi?" My mind conjured up scenarios of Malachi being tortured in a dimly-lit dungeon. A strong shudder erupted inside of my body and it left my hands numb. Then, in the back of my mind, I heard 'Four steps backward'. It sounded like a taunt. With my vision blurry due to the unshed tears, I continued to stare at his torso. "Please, just tell me something!" I groaned. "You're here for a reason! You could've gone over to your mom's house or to Lynn's place or even to a fucking hospital! Instead you're here, so obviously, you want my help! So fucking tell me!" The den was then filled with the sound of the sink's running water. He didn't speak and I was tired of being the only one. I stared at his tortured torso for a minute and then I buried my face inside of my hands. 'Got-damned it, just have him stay the night and then toss him out in the morning. I can't help him and he doesn't want me to help him,' I silently concluded. "Is..." I believed that I imagined Malachi speaking to me. "Is the woman alive?" I peeled my hands away from my face and I glanced at his battered mug. His left eye was gazing down at me. "What woman?" I asked him. "The woman with the kids," his lips grunted. "Did she die on Friday?" The muscles in my stomach painfully tightened up while my throat constricted. A strong chill clung to my skin. I was filled with dread. 'HE WAS THERE! HE WAS THERE! HE WAS THERE!' my brain screamed. To answer his inquiry, I simply shook my head while I stared up at him with widened eyes. I gasped when I tried to speak. I grabbed at my throat. "I...She survived," I gasped. "She-She-She was bruised and she had a concussion. She stayed in the hospital for one night," I informed him. "What about her kids?" "They were fine," I told him. "They're going to be alright." "What do you know about the man who was sent to the hospital?" he inquired. "Nothing, they only said he was in his early-twenties," I told him. 'He knows them. I know it. He knows them. He was there. He was there.' I decided to ask him. "Did you kill those two people?" I ran my fingers through my thick, curly hair. "Why did you do it?" "Because they deserved it," he told me, so nonchalantly. I wasn't expecting for Malachi to answer me. He had been 'stone walling' me so far. I took advantage of his newfound source of honesty. I asked, "So you're the one who carried that woman to safety?" I watched his jaw twitch and his nostrils flared. "Yeah," he growled. "What happened to you after you left the family in their car?" His jaw twitched again. He released a groan. "I need that pill," he told me. I noticed his hands were trembling and were hovering over his wounded chest. "Can I get--?" 'Shit, I forgot!' I glanced up at his face. "Oh shit, I forgot; I'm sorry," I told him. I quickly made my way over to the stove. I left the pill bottle on the counter space next to the stove, leaving a pair of pills on the counter. I grabbed the pills and filled another glass with lukewarm water. With the glass in my right hand and the pills in my other hand, I traveled back to where Malachi stood. I gave him the pills and the glass, he quickly ingested the pills and drained the glass of water. I grabbed his hand and guided him over to the couch. I pointed to the couch's cushions. It was my way of telling him to sit down. Malachi gingerly sat down on the couch. With every bit of movement, he grunted or groaned in pain. With every grunt or groan, I felt more and more sympathy for him. Once he leaned against the back of the couch, he released a groan expressing his relief. "Malachi, please tell me what happened to you," I asked him and didn't even try to mask my pleading. He remained silent. "Tell me what happened after you left that family alone." Malachi's head started to sway side-to-side in a sluggish manner. It was as if he was fighting to stay awake. After a few seconds of head movement, he finally stared at me. I gazed into his grey eye to see if he was focused. "I can't go back," his voice slurred. "I can't." Then his mouth opened and a yawn clumsily fell out. He was about to stretch his arms but he halted his movements. I assumed he must've remembered his injuries. He placed his hands on the couch's cushions and relaxed. His eye focused on my face. "I killed two of my compatriots. I can't go back now." His voice sounded forlorn. "Why you can't go back?" I asked him. "I killed them. I did go back and it was too late. They were there and they were waiting for me. Damn, the motherfucker was there and he waited for me. They punished me." 'His ass is most definitely high right now,' I concluded as I watched him nod off and then wake up. When he was awake again, I asked him, "Who punished you?" Malachi turned his attention towards the direction of the back door. He gazed for a minute before responding. "They punished me," he stated with a soft tone of voice. He leaned the back of his head against the couch. He stared at my ceiling for a few seconds and then his eye closed. I continued to stare at him for a few seconds. I gazed at the torn-up, battered and large piece of meat that was Malachi Patrick. I listened to his soft snores. As I sat on the couch, I tried to disregard the need I had. I wanted to wrap my arms around his body and give him an embrace. I wanted to plant my lips onto his own and kiss every piece of unharmed skin that was on his face. I wished that I could tell this broken man that I loved him and was possibly in love with him. I wanted to tell Malachi that his family loved him. I also wanted to tell him that he was a dumb asshole for doing the illegal shit he was committing. I wanted to hit him, but I wanted to make love to him as well. 'Four steps backwards,' I concluded. I gave Malachi one more minute of my attention before I rose from my couch. "Yeah, I have definitely taken four more steps backward," I muttered and rose from my seat. I walked over to the back door and fetched the bundle of bags that were lying on the linoleum floor. I also picked up my small clutch bag as well. With the plastic shopping bags being held in my left hand, I dug through the purse's contents with my right hand. I found my cell phone and plucked it out of the bag. I dropped the purse onto the table as well as my other bags. I fiddled with my cell phone until I reached the desire feature: the directory for the contacts. I had scrolled through the list of names until I came across my friend's name. I used the phone's cursor to press on 'Jessie'. The phone immediately called up my friend's cell phone. I pressed my phone's ear piece to my left ear and was greeted by the sound of ringing. I listened to eight rings before the automated voice mail greeting kicked in. "Yo, this is Jessie. You know what to do after the beep," was the greeting. Then I heard the sound of a loud beeping noise. "Hey Jessie, it's me, Chloe. The reason I am calling is because I really need your help. I really-really-really-really-really need your help, Jess. I have a friend who is injured. He doesn't want to go to a hospital and he refuses to tell me what happened to him. He has these cuts on his torso and on his stomach. They look real horrible. Um, please call me back. I am home, so you can call me at home," I recorded into my friend's voicemail. "What an unbelievable night," I uttered to the phone. I disconnected the call and then I chucked my phone onto the tabletop. I glared across the table to the sleeping, hulking giant who was seated on the couch. He was still asleep. His usual handsome face held a serene expression. He appeared to be at peace. His sleeping demeanor reminded me of the twelve year-old Malachi that was captured in that photo taken over ten years ago. Memories of that smiling and happy Malachi flashed through my mind as I stared at him. I felt the thin emotional wall I had managed to build up crumble. Suddenly the den was filled with the musical ringtone of "The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies". I glanced over at my cell phone. "Jessie" was etched onto the small, square-shaped screen that was on the lid of my flip phone. I picked up the phone and quickly answered the call. "Hey," I said into the phone. I noticed that my voice was weak. It trembled. It perfectly matched my emotional stability. "Hey, what's up, buddy?" Jessie's bubbly voice greeted me, as she performed her favorite Pauley Shore's "The Weasel" impersonation. "How's it going?" There was something in that question made me want to express my inner turmoil. "Hey, what's up Lo?" she asked. "I really need your help," I told her. "I have a friend who really needs your help." Once I heard my shaky voice, I wanted to give into the sorrow and fear. But, I knew that this wasn't the time. "Okay, what's wrong with her?" Jessie inquired. "It's a guy. He's been beaten up pretty bad. He has three cuts on his chest and they are deep ones— "Then he needs to go to a hospital. He'll probably get some stitches— "No, they were already sealed up, but whoever did them, did a shitty job. And they look like they are going to come apart soon." "How bad are the scars?" she asked me. "They are big. They start from one end and they are spread across his chest and they go on to the other side. They were closed with staples. He also has a lot of nasty looking bruises too."