Samson and Delilah

Chapter nineteen--Delilah

When I walk into my house, Carmelita close on my heels, my heart tingles--and then sinks down to my stomach. Mama has cleaned up, there's not a trace of alochol nowhere in the house, and it smells like food. And I haven't cooked. Which can only mean one thing.

My brother is back.

My hands tremble and my stomach turns wild. I love my brother, but he scares me shitless. He's not exactly World's Best Brother material. And, not to be sterotypical, but he's one of those black guys. The one that's tatted from his neck down, smokes weed on his days off, stays in and out of parish jail, and has multiple boys running drug errands. Also, he's in a gang. And one of the worst ones coming this way.

And that means living here is now dangerous. I've already lost a sibling to his bullshit. How Mama allows him to come here is beyond me.

Carmelita nudges me in. I wait for the smell to hit me--the unmistakable scent of weed that's going to cling to everything until he leaves. 

God, I'm aready for him to leave again.

I stumble into my living room, and the smell doesn't hit me. Good. Maybe he's not i--

"SISTER!"

Something comes flying at me, and I feel myself being knocked sideways. On impulse, three years of MMA (mixed martial arts) comes in. My fist comes up, connecting with something solid. I hear a grunt, and he tries to grab me, hold me down, but I dodge out his arms, catch myself on the edge of the table, and then stand up, breathing hard and glaring at him. "Really?" I demand, narrowing my eyes and trying to regain my compsure. Carmelita slowly backs her way to my room. My brother has hit on her multiple times.

I hear laughter coming from other boys, and his flunkies file behind him, laughing and "ooohhhh-ing." I stand up straight, resiting the urge to keep my fist curled. My heart pounds in my chest, from fear, and I glance out the window as a car passes by. Attacks can come at any time. And they won't kill him. They'll attack me. They'll attack family. They'll kill somebody else. I really hope they don't get to--

"Jazzy."

My mind flits back to my little sister. A flash of guilt roars to me. But Samson said she was okay. She has to be okay. I really hope he wasn't lying.

"Isin  her room, relax. She just has a flesh wound."

Relief courses through me. My family may irritate me, but I don't want bad to come to them. Except Mama maybe. She's kept too much from me, did too much to me growing up. She deserves everything she's been through.

"Oh. Okay. Good." I take a deep breath. Something sharp pierces the air. I flinch, ducking. It's just somebody dropping something. Carmelita yells out, "Sorry!" and then closes my bedroom door.

SJ grins. "You scared?" he asks, and it irritates me the way he says it--like 'skehd.' 

Anger bubbles in me. I want to wipe the grin off his face for ruining what was an almost perfect day. I want to beat him until the tattoos fall off his skin. I want to beat the devil out of him because nobody can be that bad just because. I want to hit him for killing my older sister four years ago when nobody else was home but me. I want to kill him because I wouldn't have told Stella to go get me a drink if he was home, and she wouldn't have been in front of the window when they shot. I want to kill him because I still have nightmares about blood pouring from her neck. I want to kill him because of Mama. And I want to kill him because no family gets out unscathed.

I clench my fist and charge. He thinks I'm going in for a hug, so he gets quite the surprise when I deliver three quick successive punches to his jaw. I strain to hurt him, but he seems confused, not hurt. I punch him until I cry, until I'm tired. My hands stay clenched. My jaw tightens. I block out everything except the asshole in front of me.