2 Love and 2Be Loved

What would you do to someone who disrespects you?” I asked The Darkness. He smiled his evil smile while speaking through his eyes and said, “I would take what they love the most and destroy it all while laughing.” He snickered and let out what seemed to be a peaceful sigh. I continued with my interview. “What would you do to me if I ever crossed you?” The relaxed look and cunning smile left his face as if fear entered his body, and he yelled, “I cannot answer that.” “Why can you not answer that? “I softly asked. “Because I couldn’t do it. I don’t even think The Darkness can do it because evil is attached to my soul, but my soul belongs to you.” He started laughing uncontrollably while trying to speak at the same time. I watched his facial expressions change; I listened to him as his tone of voice fluctuated from deep to childlike, and that look in his eyes softened. When he was able to speak in full sentences again, he managed to say one last thing before falling into what he called zombie land; “The funny thing is, he (referring to Larry Hoover) is just going to die in a box one day, and I’m just here playing with his name like a game.” He smiled that wicked smile again, sighed with relief, and fell asleep for the night. My interview with The Darkness was over…… but the nightmare had just begun. It was the middle of February; I walked into a small basement apartment on the Northwest side of Chicago with my boyfriend, Mickey. I was introduced to his “best friend,” Carlos, aka Smiley, who had just been released from prison. All I knew about Carlos was that he and Mickey had been best friends since childhood, and he had just spent sixteen years in federal prison for the stabbing of a man who once was his friend. The moment Carlos and my eyes met, my soul shook. It felt as though a bolt of lightning struck through my entire being. My first thought was, “he’s going to be trouble.” He was handsome; bald, with dark eyes, an olive complexion, not too tall but not too short, a perfectly cut body covered in tattoos, and oddly he was shirtless. What was most captivating about his physical appearance was his SMILE! Those deep, prominent dimples and the noticeable scar that ran through his top lip were sexy and intriguing. His smile was sincere but dark; he wore it like a mask. As we sat there, I listened to the two of them reminisce on their past that I was not a part of. I was very entertained listening to stories about the two of them gangbanging together and the different bitches they would f**k. Their story wound down a path that I wasn't ready for. Carlos began explaining the crime that landed him sixteen years in federal prison, doing six of those years in maximum security. I was taken back by how open and willing he was to share the story about how he premeditated a man's murder and went through with his strategic plan. The reasoning behind his action was even more preposterous. He claimed he did it for love. His disposition changed as he began talking about the woman he had just spent sixteen years in prison for. There was vulnerability in his voice. Carlos spoke of his crime as if he didn’t have a choice and, in every way, possible he believed he had done the right thing. There was no remorse whatsoever. As a matter of fact he took pride in his decree to take another man’s life. Carlos’s way of expression and how his words dance with truth and reality swarmed my brain, forcing sympathy on a cold-blooded murder. I was, to say the least, intrigued. I wanted to dissect the entirety of his story, but unfortunately, we were out of alcohol and Mickey was noticeably annoyed that he wasn’t the center of attention. As usual, Mickey, who had no money, offered to get another bottle, promising we would be back as soon as possible to continue our night of exciting stories. As we were leaving, I noticed one of Smiley’s tattoos that ran across the lower part of his neck. It stood out in big, bold, black letters. “ YOUR SOUL IS MINE;“ As I read the words, I shivered and jokingly thought, “WHAT IF I MADE YOUR SOUL MINE, MR. SMILEY.?” As Mickey and I drove away, I asked him if he had the money for the bottle of Jack Daniel's he had promised his best friend. He, of course, told me that he did not but promised he’d somehow pay me back. This led to yet another one of our many arguments. We never made it back to Smiley’s house that night or any night after that together.