Page 3 of You Deserve Good Things

Witness to a Nightmare

It was supposed to be a regular night. Just Silas and me, riding through the city like we always did. Him behind the wheel, music playin’ low—some old Boosie beat knocking slow out the speakers—windows cracked just enough to let that sticky New Orleans air roll in and coat our skin like syrup.

But something felt . . . wrong.

Silas was quiet. Too quiet. Usually, he’d be talking slick, cracking jokes, telling me about some fool he had to check earlier or asking me why I didn’t give Jacory a chance yet.

He always kept the air light. But tonight?

He was all tight shoulders and quick glances, constantly checking his mirrors like he felt eyes on us.

I should’ve known.

I should’ve said somethin’.

I should’ve begged him to turn around.

But I didn’t.

“Where are we goin’?” I asked, chin in my palm as I stared out the window at the streetlights zipping by.

He licked his lips, gripping the wheel like it owed him an answer. “Just gotta make a move really quick, lil’ bit.”

I rolled my eyes. “You still dealing with them lame ass dudes, Si? For what? We straight. Aren’t all my medical bills paid off?”

He let out a tight breath that was supposed to be a laugh, but it didn’t feel like one. “ You straight. I gotta make sure it stays that way. When you got sick, I made Keem a promise, and I’m gonna hold up my end. This will be my last time for sure and I’m square.”

And there it was—that heavy-ass guilt he carried like a cross. Silas always thought he had to bleed to keep the rest of us breathing. I hated that part of him. The part that didn’t know how to let go.

He pulled into the parking lot of a raggedy corner store off Claiborne.

The lights overhead flickered like they didn’t even wanna be on.

One busted car sat in the back of the lot, fogged windows and empty cups on the dash.

Everything about it felt . . . off. Like the block itself was holding its breath.

“Stay in the car,” Silas said, shifting the gear into park.

I stared at him. “Si—come on. Let’s just go home.”

He looked at me for a long second. His jaw clenched like he wanted to say yes. Like maybe he was rethinking it.

But before he could answer, a black Charger pulled up, real slow, tires crunching over gravel like thunder.

Silas straightened.

Three dudes stepped out. One tall and skinny with a scar dragging down his cheek, another built like a linebacker with golds in his mouth, and the last one leaning on the hood, eyes bouncing between all of us like he was doing recon.

I didn’t listen. I climbed out the car and stood near Silas before I could even think. That tension in the air had me on edge.

That was when Scarface, looked at me—up and down, bold as hell.

“Damn,” he said, smirking. “You fine as fuck, lil’ mama. Silas, you always had good taste.”

Silas’s whole face changed.

His nostrils flared. His fists clenched. And his voice came out ice cold.

“Keem, this is my baby sister. She is only sixteen, bruh. Watch your fuckin’ mouth and show some damn respect.”

Keem blinked then laughed like it ain’t even matter. “Relax, man. Just sayin’.”

“You sayin’ too much,” Silas snapped, shifting his body so he was fully between me and them.

Keem raised his hands, still grinning. “Aight, aight. Damn. Sensitive.”

But before anyone else could speak, another car pulled up.

This one was slick, darker than the first, windows blacked out. It didn’t roll in slow—it crept. Silent. No headlights. Just gliding up like death itself.

Keem’s smile dropped.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Them niggas found me.”

He backed up quick, lookin’ over his shoulder. “Y’all need to get the fuck outta here. Now. ”

Silas turned toward the car, eyes locking in. “Shaniya, get down?—”

The window rolled down.

And that was it.

Pop. Pop. Pop-Pop-Pop.

The night exploded with gunfire. Muzzled flashes lit up the lot like a camera flash from hell.

I screamed, paralyzed for half a second—until Silas grabbed me and tackled me to the pavement. His body wrapped around mine like a shield, arms covering my head, chest pressed tight against my back.

I felt him jerk.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Too many.

“Silas!” I screamed, clawing out from under him once the shots stopped.

He was heavy. His breath was ragged—then gone. Blood was everywhere. My hands were slippery with it as I grabbed his hoodie, screaming his name like it would make his heart beat again.

“Silas? Silas—no! Don’t do this, please—don’t do this to me!”

His eyes fluttered open just barely. He looked at me, his lips parting.

“I love you, Yaya,” he whispered.

And then . . . nothing.

He went still.

The car peeled off, tires screeching, the smell of rubber and iron in the air. The silence that followed was too loud. My screams got caught in my throat. My whole body shook. It felt like my heart had been ripped out, stomped on, and buried on that pavement next to my big brother.

I didn’t know how long I was kneeling there, sobbing like the world ended.

But then I heard it—Jacory’s voice, frantic and raw.

“Shaniya! Baby! Where she at!”

He ran up so fast, his knees almost buckled when he saw me covered in blood, hovering over Silas’s body.

“Baby—no, no—look at me. Shaniya, please—look at me!”

His arms wrapped around me, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I just stared. My eyes wide. Empty. Gone.

Chase walked from across the street, eyes in shock, right behind him, shouting “What went wrong! I . . . he left me! Why the fuck wouldn’t he wait for me?”

Jacory was crying. Jacory. That boy never cried. But he was holding me like he was scared I was gonna disappear too.

“Silas protected her,” he said to Chase, voice cracking. “He-he took all of it.”

Chase was stomping around, fists balled, teeth grindin’. “I swear to God, I’m killing them. I’m killing every last one of them!”

But me?

I was done.

I looked at Silas—his body still protecting mine, his hoodie soaked, his chain twisted in his fingers like it never wanted to leave him.

That was the moment I stopped speaking.

No more words.

No more sound.

Just silence.

Because the moment Silas died . . . so did the loudest part of me.