seasons | killmonger

9 | K I L L M O N G E R

Despite the beauty of the moon, sun and the stars, the sky also has a threatening thunder and striking lightening.
~African Proverb
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"You're welcome." Erik looked over at me while we ate on the couch. He decided to get food from the same place that we ate from earlier and got the same stew. His feet were kicked up on the table while mine were crossed under me. I mixed my food together before eating it and sighing happily. "Did all of that bitching cause you wanted food."

"Don't start with me, N'Jadaka." I pointed my fork at him and he turned the tv on, lazily flipping through the channels.

"Y'all really don't have no American channels? All this Wakanda based stuff is hella weak." He tossed me the remote, making it hit my thigh.

"We get American channels, you just don't know how to look." I smiled and went to the section that it was in, tossing the remote back to him. "You're welcome."

Erik rolled his eyes at me and turned the channel to some reality tv show that had a bunch of women fighting. "This is all you guys watch in America?"

"No," he chuckled. "We watch other shit, but this is entertainment for us... have you ever even been to America?" He asked and stuffed his face.

"Three times with T'Challa before. We went to New York for business." I shrugged. "I'm not clueless to American culture though."

He just nodded and slouched down into the couch even more. I looked at his chest and how it was rising and falling calmly and noticed exactly how many scars were covering his torso, if I could, I would walk over and touch them, but I knew that he'd turn it into something bigger than it actually was. "How many of those do you have?" I asked him, making him look up at me. "The scars." He couldn't really get offended. He walked around here shirtless half of the time anyway.

"Three thousand."

"So... you killed three thousand people? Is that even possible?" I cocked my head and frowned.

"I didn't put extra scars on me for fun, sweetheart. Trust me, it's possible. C'mere." He sighed and put his container down. I walked over towards him and he grabbed my hand so that I could touch them without them being covered for once. They felt smooth but obviously bumpy because they were raised.

"How did you do it? The cuts, I mean." I mumbled.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I could do it with a knife. They just look better when they heal compared to when I actually make the cuts."

"Do you regret killing all those people?" I looked up and asked him.

He got quiet for a second and I thought that I hit a soft spot. "Some of them I do, but then it's some that deserve it. I killed innocent and guilty people." As soon as he said innocent people, I thought of Zuri and frowned. I remember finding out about his death from W'Kabi.

"So... when you killed Zuri... he was innocent—" he cut me off.

"And I was pissed at the time. Does it validate it? No, but I can't take that shit back." He was getting frustrated and went back to eating his food.

"Where's his scar?" I finally asked.

"You ask a whole bunch of questions," he sighed and put his container back down. Turning on his side, he pointed to one of the scars that looked like it was still healing. Exactly how he was starting to get frustrated with me, I got pissed at him. I was slightly pissed cause he killed innocent people; but even more pissed because he took Zuri.