Page 18 of In Too Deep
I got to get the fuck out of here! This nigga is mentally insane!
Not caring that I was naked from the waist down, my main task was to escape.
Though my legs felt like limp noodles, I mustered up the courage to wiggle my feet and run.
This place was like a dungeon or something.
Every window I attempted to open, I was met with some type of hard metal, and it was hard to see out of.
As big as this house was, it was impossible to make out anything else.
I was leading myself blind in this huge mansion.
The floor to ceiling windows were massive and tall.
Aside from his serial killer demeanor, now he had exquisite taste in furniture too.
The front door felt like a ninety-mile run, but I was determined to leave this sicko in here alone.
My hand clutched the cold handle on the black French style doors.
My vision was becoming blurry, and my heart was beating heavily through my chest.
To no avail, my thoughts of escaping came crashing down, and this was a victory I thought I’d won.
Metal steel was covering the entire door, like a shield.
Fueled with determination, I placed my fingertips between the crack and tried to pry it open, mustering the strength of Thanos, but I was unsuccessful.
My tiny hands beat against the metal, and I opened my mouth to release a guttural scream.
“HELP MEEEEE! SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME!” I screamed to the top of my lungs until I was out of breath.
Banging on metal, my hands were balled into fists as I continued to pound.
Booming noises echoed throughout his home, so I know he heard me and my plea for help.
Riddled with fear, I stopped after reality sank in that no one was coming to save me.
Stealing iPhones led to this? He was better off killing me when he pointed his gun at me.
I’d rather be dead than be held hostage, breathing the same air as this insane maniac.
Turning around on my heels, I opened my eyes but bumped into something hard.
It was Romelo, towering over me with a menacing stare on his handsome face.
His chest felt hard like the metal surrounding his windows.
How ironic is that? I stared back at him, before nicking him across the chin with my fist. He didn’t even bulge, as if my hits felt like puppy dog paws.
“Fuck you doin’ all this screaming’ and shit fo’ like I didn’t have a mouth full of your pussy just a minute ago. I did yo ass a fucking favor,” he ranted.
“No,” I screamed, sounding like a mad woman. “Doing me a favor would have been killing me when you had the chance. This isn’t a fucking favor. You’re a damn sicko ass nigga!”
“Oh, for real?” he smirked with a raised brow. “You ready to die, huh?”
In one swift motion, he reached behind his waist and grabbed a gun. Putting it into view, as he passed it to me after releasing the safety.
“Go ‘head and do it. I know how to murk yo ass, but that’d be too fuckin’ easy. You ready to die, then go ‘head Juicy.”
My chest heaved up and down out of anger.
I’m sure if this were a cartoon, smoke would be seeping from my nostrils too.
Instead of bluffing, I snatched the gun and aimed it at him.
This was all too comical for him though.
His reaction bothered me now that the roles were reversed.
Those chestnut brown eyes stared down into the barrel, with a smirk on his face.
“Shoot it, love. Shoot me,” he chastised me.
Romelo opened his mouth, placed it around the butt of the gun, and stared deeply into my eyes.
My bottom lip began to quiver because this was a joke to him.
He’d thought this through already, making me seem pussy.
Did I want to kill him? Yes. Did I have the guts to shoot him?
No. It was completely cowardly of me to have these heinous thoughts and not go through with it.
“Fuck you waiting on Juicy? We’ll be even fair and square. I just murdered my tongue with that pussy and put it out of its misery. I don’t think your pussy would like you killing its rightful owner after the service I’d just done. That’s unfair to her,” he grimaced, followed by a sinister grin.
The cold steel pressed harshly against his mouth; a metallic tang filled his senses.
His own lip trembled under the pressure of his teeth.
Eyes squeezed shut, I saw it vividly: the sickening thud, the crimson spray exploding across his chest, the gritty texture against his skin.
Then I’d have no way out, and I’d be stuck here.
Before attempting to make a grand escape, I didn’t check to see if I had my phone.
“Don’t be pussy!” He continued to chastise me, aggravating me more and more.
Fire blurred my gaze, drying out my tears. I felt conflicted, but was willing to weigh any other options if there were any.
“You’re doin’ too much fucking thinking Juicy--”
Click!
I had the guts to pull the trigger. Shock overruled fear in a millisecond, but he didn’t look enthused anymore, more so relieved. Blinking away my thoughts, before I could dwell on what was happening, he took the gun away from me, pointing at his temple, and pulled it again.
Click!
He did it again once more.
Click!
My expression was horrific as I watched him in fear.
“You’re insane!” I muttered, with my mouth gaping open in shock.
“You ain’t seen shit ye,t Juicy. Trecee ain’t never seen this version of me.”
“I don’t give a fuck about you or her. Let me go! I’ve given you your phones and your money. You can’t do this to me,” I argued, running my hands through my curly mane.
He extracted the bullet from the chamber and presented it for my inspection. There was only one. Playing Russian roulette seemed like a fucking hobby.
“I ain’t afraid of death, Juicy. I live by the gun anyway. Fuck I look like running from it? If you ever pull a gun on a nigga you better use it. A gun ain’t a threat.”
“Just let me the fuck go! What more do you want from me?”
He tucked the gun in the back of his waist. I got a glimpse of the chiseled V-cut and light patch of hair trailing down to his dick.
“It’s obvious, I can kill you and get away with it.
This is a pardon for both of us. You need money, so let me take care of you.
You stole from me. Had I not showed up to your place with good intentions, I would’ve spent more money on my plug, then it would’ve been a ghost package too.
I spent more on that shit than you did receiving your cut and giving whatever amount you gave to them niggas.
I’m a businessman, first and a trick immediately after if the pussy good. ”
“And if I don’t agree to this,” I motioned my hand between us.
“Then I’d make your life hell, until you consider fucking with me.”
“That ain’t fucking fair, you freak,” I muttered as I stood on my tip toes and spat in his face.
“And neither is life, but yet your ungrateful ass is here. You standin’ here doin’ everything else but thanking me for sparing your life,” he spat back.
Despite the rough brush-past, he didn’t react, nor was he fazed by my aggression.
“You aren’t doing me any favors, nigga. I’d rather be drowning in the Mississippi River than being here with you,” I responded.
“I can make that happen, don’t get shit twisted. I’ll fuck you first, then hog tie yo ass and dump you in it. Quit talking out of the side of yo neck Synthia,” he grimaced, making his attitude known as if he had a right to be pissed off.
My eyes wandered around his place like a lost dog looking for shelter.
Since none of this belonged to me, and his introduction was informal, I had no choice but to return to the master bedroom, where we’d been before.
His Yeezys slapped against the glossy wood grained floors as he trailed behind me, mumbling shit incoherently.
“Mane here, stop all that bitchin’ and take this.”
He grabbed my wrist. His thumb, a blunt, hard weight, pressed into my small wrists.
The rough fabric of his sleeve scraped against my skin as he yanked, the sudden twist making my head swim.
A sharp intake of breath hit my ears. The crumbled up goodie powder smashed into my palm caught my attention, along with the white residue.
My head was pounding from all of this, so I needed it.
“Above the sink are cups, unless you want to be a beast and drink it dry. They’re water bottles in the pantry.” Romelo mentioned, then staggered off. I snapped my neck to glance back at him with a frown before my found my footing and I treaded towards the kitchen.
It was grandeur, with a color scheme of beige, a white brick wall that was beautifully decorated, giving it a very modern theme.
Despite his Jeffrey Dahmer impersonations thus far, the ass hole had taste, so I can imagine what the rest of the home interior looked like.
Still clutching the goodie powder, I lurked for knives or anything I could cut his ass with, but I became unlucky.
He’d be pretty stupid to have glass cups and saucers in the cabinets.
My eyes darted over to the knife block, and they were empty, which meant he’d already hidden them.
Trotting over to the pantry, I retrieved the bottle of water, ripped the goodie powder open and poured the contents in my mouth.
The bitter taste caused me to shudder before I allowed the water to flush it down my throat.
The plastic made a crunching noise, indicating that the water bottle was empty, so I tossed it in the trash and leaned against the cool marble island.
My breasts rested between my elbows as I leaned forward and ruffled my fingers through my hair.
My fingertips massaged my temples attempting to soothe the aching, but the was stress building up. This was all too much for me to digest.