So, as it turned out, I was currently driving around with my surveillance team. I’d taken my former driver’s car, tailing right behind them while they kept an eye on Jasmine. I did make sure to feed the dude and let him use the bathroom before I left him, but that shit was uncomfortable as hell, for obvious reasons.
It would’ve been much easier if you’d just killed him,
the voice in my head grumbled.
“Definitely would’ve been easier,” I thought back. “But also kind of petty.”
He tried to shoot you just because you were whooping his ass. How would us killing him be pettier than that?
“Because we started fucking fighting over a goddamn piece of cheesecake. It wasn’t even about the cake, really. It was just the fact that he thought I was pussy, so I had to show him who was actually the pussy. But I digress.”
Suddenly, my burner phone buzzed. It was Pablo, the guy running the tracking team.
“Okay, Rico, we just spotted her going into the Albertsons,” Pablo said over the static. “Luckily, she’s not in a massive store, so you should be able to find her pretty easily.”
“Thanks, Pablo,” I said, adjusting my grip on the wheel. “Does she have her kids with her?”
“I think she just has her baby,” Pablo replied. “The older kids should still be at school, and it’s not time for her to pick them up yet. You should be able to have a conversation that isn’t too awkward.”
I let out a harsh laugh. “I literally killed her baby daddy, Pablo. Mind-fucked or not, how the hell is this not going to be awkward off the jump?”
“Look, man, I just do reconnaissance,” Pablo said, his voice flat. “It’s not my job to think about the stuff in between. That’s your business, so you find a way to handle it.”
I hate how he’s right...
the voice sighed.
I took a deep breath, trying to get myself mentally prepared for what was about to happen. I pulled into the Albertsons parking lot and parked the car. I sat there in the driver’s seat for a minute, contemplating my next move and mentally preparing myself to accept whatever outcome was waiting for me inside.
I sat there in the quiet of the driver’s seat, the engine idling. I looked out through the windshield at the sliding glass doors of the grocery store. I took a slow breath, lifted my hands, and cupped them together in front of my face. It was time to make a Dua.
I wasn’t praying for myself. I didn’t ask Allah to magically wave away my first-degree murder charge, or to keep my black ass out of a maximum-security prison. That would have been selfish. I was praying entirely for her.
Ya Allah,
I thought, my eyes closed as the weight of the last six years pressed down on my chest.
I’m begging you to let this go well. I failed to protect Juliet. And I failed to protect Jasmine from that monster, too. I let my own rage and my own stupid ego get in the way of what actually mattered. But please, guide my words today. Help me find a way to open her eyes and enlighten her to the truth. Break whatever sick, mental cage he locked her in, and give her back her mind.
I wiped my hands over my face, letting out a long, trembling breath.
For the first time in as long as I could remember, the voice in my head didn’t say a goddamn thing. It was completely, respectfully silent.
I opened the car door, stepped out onto the asphalt, and walked toward the entrance.
While I was walking through the aisles of the store, I couldn’t help but overthink every single thing that could go wrong. It’s the most human reaction you can have. Your brain always defaults to the worst possible outcomes instead of what might actually go right.
But then again, most people aren’t in my situation. I was about to meet my high-school ex-girlfriend. She has a baby that belongs to the man I shot eighteen times in a blind, homicidal rage. For a normal person, a grocery run is nothing. But since I’m out on bond for a fucking felony, this is going to be excruciatingly hard.
“Uhh...” I muttered under my breath, grabbing a basket. “This is so fucking agonizing. I need to think about something that can get my mind off this bullshit. But what exactly?”
Well, back in our home state of Florida, they literally just passed a law making it a third-degree felony to lie on a rental application,
the voice in my head chimed in.
“Oh, God, I did hear about that,” I thought, trying to focus on the random news I’d read to distract myself. “Five years in prison just for falsifying your paystubs or lying about your income is fucking crazy.”
But yet these landlords still expect you to make three times the monthly rent,
the voice grumbled.
Most normal people aren’t even making that much.
“Deadass!” I thought back, navigating past the produce. “Who the fuck do you know in the hood—or even just basic-ass apartments—who can make three times the fucking rent while living off McDonald’s or any other regular-ass industry income? It’s like they want a motherfucker to live in their car or some shit.”
Facts, gang,
the voice chuckled.
Also, they say talking to yourself too much is a sign of going clinically insane.
“Shut your bitch-ass up!” I thought, scowling as I turned down the next aisle. “That shit is not funny!”
After walking around for what felt like an eternity, I finally found her. She was standing in the baby aisle, looking at clothes for a little boy.
There she is. Jasmine...
the voice in my head whispered, its usual edge completely vanishing.
We haven’t seen her in six years, plus all that time in prison. Shit. What do we even do? How the hell are we supposed to approach her?
I took a deep, steadying breath.
“Fuck it,” I thought. “The worst she can do is just tell me to get lost. That’s the absolute worst she can do. If she does, then I’ll just have to find another way to beat this death sentence.”
So, I finally built up the balls to approach her. I did it from behind, which I know is probably the worst way to handle a situation like this. But I couldn’t risk her seeing me coming and running away before I could even say a word.
“Jasmine.”
She jumped slightly. “Huh? Who knows my na—”
She turned around, her voice cutting off the second she looked me dead in the eyes. We just stood there, frozen, staring at each other for a long, heavy moment.
“Rico...?” she whispered, her hands starting to shake. “Is that... is that really you?”
I gave her a slow, gentle nod. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s me.”
And then, she just started crying. She wasn’t sobbing hysterically, but the tears just started pouring out of her eyes the second she looked at me.
Here it comes,
the voice in my head warned, bracing for a blow.
But instead of screaming at me or calling for help, she ran forward and threw her arms around my neck, hugging me with everything she had. I stood there, completely shocked. I’d spent weeks preparing myself for her to be angry, defensive, or brainwashed by his conditioning.
Okay...
the voice muttered, completely stunned.
This is way more backwards than we originally thought. I was not mentally prepared for this.
“I... I knew you would come save me,” Jasmine wept, clutching my thobe.
“Huh?” I blinked.
“I’ve been living through so much hell,” she sobbed, her voice breaking. “He put me through so much hell because I wanted to leave him. Every single day... even when he tried to break me, I knew you would come. The moment I heard you killed him... I knew you would come save me from this nightmare. Rico, Rico, I love you so much...”
Hearing those words completely broke my heart. She had been holding onto the belief that I would save her this entire time—like she was a princess trapped in a cage by a dragon, just waiting for me to break the lock.
I wrapped my arms around her and held her tight against my chest, not saying a single word as she completely broke down in my arms.