"In life, we form bonds and relationships with those who've never experienced themselves in all seasons of life-at their highest and lowest points, in grief and sadness, happiness and anger. We expect people to know themselves coming into our lives...
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Sayori made it to Talia's home within minutes. Throwing her car in park, Sayori wasted no time heading to Talia's door, which was slightly ajar. Her door knob was broken and the glass had been shattered. Sayori couldn't contain her anger as she walked in on Darrin pinning Talia against the wall. Tears fell down Talia's face as she struggled against him.
Without hesitation, Sayori cocked the gun—pressing the cold, .9 millimeter barrel against the back of his head, "I suggest you keep your hands to yourself."
Darrin chuckled sinisterly, his head dropping as he continued to hold Talia by her neck, "I should have known you were coming," Sayori heard the amusement in his voice, "Somehow, yo' black ass finds yo' way into other people's business."
Before Sayori could react, Imaan stepped in front of Darrin—pummeling his fist into Darrin's mouth, "Watch yo' fuckin' mouth and mind yo' fuckin' hands when it comes to mine."
Drawing her hand back, Sayori used the end of the gun—hitting Darrin in the back of his head. He screamed, holding his hand over the wound as he lost his balance. Standing over him, Sayori repeated the action—slamming the end of the gun into Darrin's mouth, "I would say putting your hands on a woman makes you a bitch, but you've always been a bitch ass nigga."
Glancing towards Talia, Sayori could see the pure fear written on her face. Her body was still—her hands across her chest as she tried to register all that's happened. Blood leaked from a large cut above her eye—her body riddled with bruises and scratches. Imaan watched as Sayori did a number on him—her sneaker planted into his neck.
"Wea' dat bitch at?" Imaan turned around as Chance waltzed through the door, "Wea' his ass at!" He glanced around before his eyes landed on Darrin, whose eyes widened. He didn't realize Talia had an army behind her—she'd never had anyone save her before.
"Excuse me," He said to Sayori before standing over Darrin. Without remorse, Chance slammed his fist into Darrin's jaw—a low, cracking nose heard as they surrounded him. Darrin tried to block Chance's hits, but to no avail as he repeatedly struck him in the face—until everything went black.
"Alright, CJ," Imaan pulled Chance away from Darrin, "He's done."
Police and ambulance sirens could be heard in the distance. Chance's adrenaline was rushing through his body—his chest heaving and his nails digging into the palms of his bloody hands. He stared at Talia—a lump forming in his throat as she sobbed into Sayori's chest, "I'm gon' kill that bitch, Mani. I'm gon' kill his ass."
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