Black Waters (Frank Ocean Love Story)

Chapter 三十三

I woke in an unfamiliar place, a horrid stench filling my nose and turning my guts inside out. A claustrophobic sensation overwhelmed me as I tried to wiggle my way out of the dark hole that I was stuck in, and failed. What was this?

Whatever it was, I didn’t like it. I began to worry even more, and wiggled even harder to escape my trap. But I only ended up hitting my head on some metal and getting what felt like a concussion. I could barely think straight. The only thing I could do was call for help.

As I opened my mouth to yell, my memory flooded back. Someone had captured me. I saw him.

It was Roshon.

That dogged bastard! Can I not have one moment of peace without him interrupting it? What did he take me for anyway?

And what the hell is that smell? It seemed to be getting stronger as my thoughts grew angrier, as if it was a punishment. Something was definitely submerging me, something thick. The matter that surrounded me was like bags of something heavy.

That’s it! They are bags. That explains the smell; it’s garbage. I was surrounded by garbage bags. But why? The only place I could imagine there to be such a concentration of garbage bags would be a garbage truck. So I was in a garbage truck. Roshon threw me in a goddamn garbage truck.

Hoping that my legs weren’t completely immersed, I tried to kick my way out. A sound clashing metal rang throughout the environment I was in. I had kicked the back of the truck. Something stopped, and I realized that we had been moving all along. The driver probably heard my noise. But I wasn’t scared. As soon as he came, I was ready to fight.

I didn’t know whether my eyes were open or closed, for everything around me seemed to be dark, but I was still confident. I waited, but he didn’t even come. The truck just stopped, and I just sat still.

And then something started up again.

It wasn’t the truck itself though. It was a machine within the truck. The compactor?

“Bye-bye, Ajahni.” Roshon’s voice boomed through the truck.

Everything around me was being crushed. Soon, it would be my turn.

I squirmed like my life depended on it—my life actually did depend on it. I struggled to leave the spot I was in, and surprisingly made progress. I seemed to be at the bottom of the truck now, but there was no use. I would die in a matter of seconds.

But it turned off.

The compactor turned off! Tears of victory and relief swelled in my eyes, but I wiped them before I could cry. I couldn’t celebrate my triumph just yet. First, I had to get out of here and deal with Roshon. I wanted him to pay for this.

The doors opened and the garbage bags before me fell out; my feet were apparently pushing them. I slid out of the truck involuntarily with them, and collapsed onto the asphalt.

“Who the hell are you?” I spat at the person that stood before me. That was absolutely not Roshon. Roshon had defined, sharp features, an intelligent and swift persona. This guy was lanky and tall, his bony fingers laced with scars and face deeply creased with wrinkles. His eyes were meaningless and concerned all at once.

“Don’t ask me questions. I’m just here to help. Now look, Roshon thinks you’ve long been dead. He turned on the compactor and left to go to Crestwood Park. But I turned it off, ‘cause I don’t necessarily want you to die. I’m not a killer. So get up and go about your business. If anybody asks, you’re dead.” The man voiced cautiously.

“Sure, because someone will believe me when I tell them I’m dead.” I said sarcastically.

“Shut up! You know what I mean. Just don’t let word get out that you escaped Roshon. Okay?”