BANGIN' (Urban)

POSTLUDE

One Year Later

Braxton sipped on his drink, letting the humid air blow past his face. The streets of Roseau, Dominica hustled and bustled in the early afternoon, with shipments and people coming in and out of the dock. He tipped the Blue Curacao and vodka back, looking around for the person he was expecting to walk off of any of those ships.

The capital city was only a little over an hour away from his home with Nadine. The drive was beyond beautiful, just greens and blues as far as his eyes could see. Even after one year of living here, he was still in awe of how gorgeous the island was. Especially as their house was in a quiet neighborhood with less than 10 neighbors, all living about half a mile apart from each other.

He made a mental note to pick up all of Nadine's city favorites, specifically the empanadas from the old lady who sold them on the corner nearby. She would have come with him into the city herself, but he made sure to choose a day where she would be busy at the orphanage or the school.

Braxton felt someone approaching him from behind and set his cup down, knowing that their meeting was about to commence.

"Hey Braxton," she spoke, still timid, but sounding stronger than she had that night.

The night she died.

Or should have died.

"You late, Lorena."

She apologized, placing her shades on her forehead. She had since cut all of her locs, leaving only baby curls in her natural hair color of light brown. He hadn't seen that color on her in over 10 years, when she started consistently dying her locs red.

"You know me. CPT, and everything," she chuckled nervously.

Braxton didn't want to spend any longer with her, so he got right to the chase. "You know why I asked you here."

"Yes, to make sure I know what I have to do. Stick to my orders. Allat."

Braxton nodded, trying not to get swept up into the memory of when they saw each other last.

"Look at me," he said lowly. She continued crying, fat tears sliding down her cheeks. She kept struggling against him, weakly fighting to get away. "I said, look at me."

"Braxton, no, please." She said through hiccups and slobber, shaking her head.

"Lorena, look at me."

Lorena's red eyes, surrounded by long, wet lashes, met his.

This was like a form of self torture, staring into the eyes of a woman he once loved more than life itself, knowing what he was about to do.

He stared right into those murky green eyes as he pulled the trigger, the sound of gunshots ringing through his ears.

She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, bracing for the bullet that never entered her body. He had fired into the wall directly behind her, the silencer still smoking from the shot.

He couldn't kill her, even if he tried. He didn't want to be that person anymore, that took life for the sake of staying in business, who was ruthless and selfish. He wanted to change, to be a man Nadine could be proud of. Who wouldn't kill family, even if family had essentially killed him.

"You leaving. Pack a bag. Book a one way ticket to somewhere nobody know about, somewhere far. I'll get you a new passport, and from there you on your own."

He started texting his connect to arrange a whole new identity for Lorena. She needed to disappear, and he explained that it was the only way she could keep her life. He couldn't have her walking around, alive, while the streets knew that she violated him. That would make him look weak, and that wouldn't work.