Black Romance - -1 Prologue

“Let her go! Don’t do this! Please, you don’t need to do this! Just let her go!” Her mother pleaded to the man with a gun to her head, her nails digging into the lower part of his pants.

“Don’t need to do this—maybe you should have told your husband that from the start,” he said, pulling back the hammer. “It’s too late for begging.”

“Take me, take me instead. Just let my kids go and I’ll go with you.”

The young girl’s body bobbled and bounced against the man’s shoulder as he approached the car. “Mom! Mom!” the girl screamed, reaching her arms out in the direction of the only safety she knew.

“Please, I’m begging you, don’t take my children.”

“Are you fucking deaf? Was I just talking to myself?” Cocking his head, his lip turned into a snarl. “What’s done is done. It’s nothing personal, business is business. Don’t act like you didn’t know this was coming. . .” Chuckling, the man smirked. “Your husband knew what would happen if he didn’t hold up his end, obviously he didn’t give a shit—”

“He’s not here, I don’t know where he is,” her mother said, cutting him off.

“We’ll see about that, but it still doesn’t change shit. The message needs to be given, he needs to know who’s in charge.”

Her mother’s head dropped into her hands as she sobbed uncontrollably.

Slipping the girl off his shoulder, the man pushed her inside one of cars and shut the door. She sat alone for what seemed like eternity. The car was hot inside, the air thick and salty, smelling of metal and thick, sour cologne.

The girl’s ears were ringing from the change of air, silencing the world around her. Her disconnect with reality and immature mind was trying to grasp what was going on, but there was no way for her to fully understand it.

The man who grabbed her climbed into the front passenger seat as another one of the men slid into the driver’s side. The engine roared to life, vibrating her ribs, but the girl couldn’t take her eyes off the window.

Her eyes met her mother’s. “I love you.” Her mother’s lips moved in soundless words as she closed her eyes and lowered her gaze to the ground.

The girl could see two other men grabbing her brother and sister from the car and walking off to the other vehicle with them. The man who had gone into the house, came out shaking his head.

That small signal, the subtle ‘no’ he said without words, it was the nail that sealed the coffin.

The man in the front seat pulled a yellow rag from his pocket and wiped the sweat off his forehead before tucking it away. “You’re going to want to look away, little girl, I don’t think you’ll want to see this.” His voice was scratchy and thick, reminding her of her grandfather who used to smoke those unfiltered cigarettes.

The car jerked forward as it pulled away from her home, forcing the girl to turn back to the window. Resting her palm against the glass, she heard a loud pop as the distance grew between the car and her house. She watched as her mother’s body fell to the ground, laying motionless.

She was too young to really dissect exactly what had happened, but deep in her heart she knew she would never see her mother again. Tears filled her eyes as the car turned and her home was no longer visible.

And as she wept alone, without the comfort of a hug and someone telling her everything would be alright, as she slowly began to see that her entire life had just changed, that little girl still held on to hope.

Hope that her father would come to save her.

Hope that he would find her and punish the men for hurting her mother.

Hope. . . A hope that would soon fade when none of that happened.

A hope that would be replaced by hate.

I wish that was just a scary story, a tall-tail about men who come and steal you away from your mother’s arms if you don’t follow the rules or disobey your parents. . .

But it’s not just a story. It’s my reality.

I was nine when they took me away, nine when I saw my family last, nine when I watched my mother die.

I was nine when my life changed forever.

My name is Jessie, and my life is no longer my own.