Netta’s body was numbed by fear, still somehow she got the strength to defend herself. That turned her into the strong chick she had been before her world had been turned upside down by the beating.
Bitch, you not trying to be tough. You are tough, she told herself.
Fear overrode her caution.
She could hear the sound of footsteps approaching as the person began closing the distance between them. Netta didn’t say anything, she didn’t want to give up her position. She just stood there, gun in hand, aiming at the door. The idea of Black coming to get her had been suddenly solidified in her head by this unidentified person in her apartment.
“Open the door yo!.... It’s…..” a voice said, forcefully turning the doorknob.
She didn’t get a chance to hear the rest of the sentence as two loud gunshots drowned out his words. The shots tore through the door, coming to rest inside the man’s chest cavity.
Netta cautiously approached the door as she tightened her grip on the gun. She steadied her hand, preparing to finish the job. A horrified look adorned her face when she opened the door and saw what damage had been done, or better yet, whom she had done it to.
Tone lay on his back, slumped on the floor, bleeding profusely.
“I’m sorry, Tone. I…. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t know it was you,” she cried.
Not knowing exactly what to do, Netta cupped his head in her lap as Tone went into shock, bleeding out all over the rug. The muscles in his face tightened as he struggled to talk. Swallowing blood, no words came out.
In this close proximity she could smell blood mixed with the strong scent of alcohol coming off his breathe. This led Netta to jump to the conclusion that Tone had been drinking. Maybe he was drunk and that’s why he didn’t respond to her call. He must have spent the day celebrating, drinking with his people before his departure the next day.
“Oh my God,” Netta screamed. “What the fuck have I done to you, yo?”
Drunk or not, Tone didn’t deserve this. To be shot down in his own house by the woman he loved.
Precious time slipped away as Tone’s condition only worsened. From time to time he seemed to want to say something. But the best he could manage was mouthing his words. He began choking on his own blood as Netta desperately tried to comfort him. However, there was nothing she could do. She was forced to watch him die.
Quickly, his eyes took on a glassy look and his bodily movements ceased. The man once known as ‘New York Tone’ on the streets of Baltimore was no more.
Cursing herself, Netta looked down at Tone, motionless. She was emotionally distraught, unable to deal with the consequences of her actions. Suddenly, Netta didn’t want to start a new life in Atlanta without Tone, or face the possibility of life in prison for homicide. So she grabbed the gun and placed it to her temple. Without a second thought, she pulled the trigger. The automatic gun recoiled as soon as the bullet left the chamber and it logged in her brain. Netta slumped against the wall, her brains spattering everywhere.
The crime scene she left behind looked like a lover’s quarrel, possibly domestic abuse, or a murder-suicide. Who would believe that she accidentally killed her boyfriend? She couldn’t believe it herself.
A swirl of bright lights and police cars greeted Black and Stink as they arrived at Netta’s apartment complex. Nosey neighbors stood outside in pajamas and bathrobes as the police cordoned off the crime scene with yellow tape.
“That’s the building yo?” Black asked.
Stink responded, “Yeah, yo. That’s it.”
A muscle twitched in Black’s jaw as he was overcome with anger and confusion. He didn’t know what was going on, but what he did know was he couldn’t do what he came to do.
“Go see what the fuck is goin’ on, yo,” Black ordered.
After parking the car in a discreet area away from the commotion, Stink went and blended into the crowd in an effort to find out what was going on. After going on his fact finding mission, Stink returned to the car with some very important information to tell Black.
“You ain’t gone believe this, yo,” Stink commented. “Both Tone and Netta dead.”
“What?” Black snapped in disbelief. “Who said that?”
“A couple of broads up there, yo,” he said. “And they ain’t got no reason to lie to me.”
Black sat in the passenger seat, stunned by the news. He wasn’t mad that Tone and Netta were dead. He was mad that their death didn’t come at his hands. Black wasn’t prepared for this. He shifted his eyes back to the crime scene, before he allowed it to sink in.
“Let’s go, yo,” he told him.
They drove out the housing complex, almost undetected. Black took one last glance at the innocent bystanders and their sympathetic looks didn’t soothe him. The only thing that would make him feel better was knowing that both Tone and Netta suffered a great deal before they died.
19
“Ma’am?....” the cab driver said. “….Ma’am?”
Netta awoke in a panicked state, eyes wide-open, her hands placed on her chest. Her heart was beating fast. Her breathing was labored. She was alive. Curiously, she scanned her surroundings. She snapped out of that fantasy back into reality. It had all been one bad dream. For a moment she felt certain that it had been real.
So many bad thoughts were invading her mind at once. Netta was having a hard time processing it all. The dream seemed so real, all she had now was bittersweet memories along with a gang of regrets. She shook her head in disbelief. Slowly, she began to recall what really happened. Her thoughts were becoming clearer by the second. Now that she was coherent no dream could pull her mind in a different
