No Home Training (14 page)

Slipping in and out of consciousness from losing so much blood, London was barely aware of what was going on. Now Kenya, the same person she'd deliberately taunted less than an hour ago, leaned down over her with the knife in her hands lifting the newborn up. Taking the bread twist, she wrapped them tightly around the blood filled umbilical cord and deviously smiled as she thought about Storm. Then vindictively glaring at her reflection in the shiny sides of the butcher knife, she cut it off severing all ties the baby had with London.

“Where you going with my baby?” a weak and drained London muttered as the gunshot wound continued to bleed. “Let me hold him. Let me hold my baby,” she begged as she started gagging on her own blood.

“Your baby?” Kenya questioned wrapping the crying infant in the dish towels. Dazed, she sat down in Storm's favorite chair rocking him in her arms as she watched her sister struggle to hold onto life. “You must have made a mistake. This is my baby, me and Storm's!”

“But we're family. We're all we got. I love you Kenya, please,” London sadly took her last breath.

“Say you promise!” Kenya smirked looking down towards the floor and nonchalantly replied ignoring the fact her twin sister had just died in front of her eyes because she opted not to get her any help.

Turning up the volume of the music in an attempt to ignore the sounds of the frantic neighbors knocks who'd recognized O.T. as the gunshot victim, Kenya who had obviously lost her mind hummed to her now deceased twin sister's newborn son while she patiently waited for his daddy to return home so they could be one big happy family. “Don't worry li'l one your real mommy's here with you.”

Callously allowing her twin sister to die right before her eyes on the living room floor, Kenya seemed coldly unaware of what she'd truly just done. Rocking back and forth with London's defenseless newborn tucked in her arms, the knocks at the front door soon stopped. As the smooth sounds of jazz flowed throughout the room, Kenya cried staring down at her nephew, Storm's son.
Despite what anybody says, you belong to me! I deserved to have had you, not that man stealing bitch over there!
She nodded toward London.
Storm loves me! Not her, me! Even though I can't have no babies, he loves me!
Taking her still blood covered hands; Kenya used her fingertips tracing the tiny outline of the baby's lips. “Look at you,” she softly spoke to him. “You got those big brown eyes just like my Gran used to have. And look at all that wavy hair.”

The last track on the CD finally played. When the music stopped, Kenya kinda snapped out of her strange oblivious trance squinting her eyes. Seeing her twin sister with a bullet hole in her shoulder and a messy combination of blood and afterbirth spilled out between her still open legs, it hit her like a ton of bricks. Quickly leaping up, Kenya laid the infant, still wrapped in dish rags down on the couch and peeped back out the window.
Damn, who in the hell got hurt?
She quickly closed the drape back after seeing the crowd of people move out the way so an ambulance could get through.
But who gives a sweet fuck? I got my own bullshit to deal with right now.

Interrupting her selfish thoughts of ‘me, me, me,' Storm's son started to wiggle on the couch. Momentarily thinking clearly for the first time since smacking the dog shit out of London, Kenya knew she had to get the infant, whose umbilical cord was still attached, some much needed medical attention. Leaning over London's still body, Kenya broke all the way down as she checked for a pulse. “Oh my God! What did I just fucking do? I'm sorry! I'm sorry!” she sobbed holding London's limp hand knowing a piece of herself would forever be missing. Apologizing in one breath while still going hard in the next, Kenya trembled as she spoke. “I didn't mean it! I promise I didn't! But why did you have to keep that baby? Why? Why? You knew that shit was foul! You know he didn't rape you!”

Of course, there was no movement from her twin sister. No acceptance of Kenya's erratic excuses or begging to hold her newborn. No whining about having to abruptly drop out of school and lastly, much to Kenya's delight, no calling out for Storm. Letting her grip of London's hand go, Kenya glanced over her shoulder at the now whimpering infant.

You . . . you fucking little bastard!
Spitefully, with her hair practically standing on top of her head, she focused her attention to the small, otherwise buddle of joy, that was the painful source of all her problems.
You the one that made my sister stab me in the back and Storm act a fool. A trust fund for your punk-ass, a life insurance policy, for real? All that for you? After I been riding with that nigga and all his gangsta bullshit! Oh, hell naw!

Coldly staring at the innocent baby, blaming him for the troubles of the world he was just born into, Kenya was soon distracted. Out the corner of her eye she saw the shiny jagged edges of the blood covered butcher knife used to cut the umbilical cord. Still on the floor, she crawled around London's body snatching the wooden handle up clutching it tightly in her hand. With the blade facing the baby, Kenya continued her rant. “Why did you have to be a boy? Why? I wanted Storm's first born and you robbed me of that!” she mumbled standing to her feet. Slowly walking toward her tiny nephew and step-son-to-be, Kenya once again totally zoned out. “If it wasn't for you, life would've still been perfect around this bitch. But you fucked that up for me didn't you?”

With each step, the once self proclaimed, Detroit Boss Bitch Diva became more and more out of touch with reality. Finally standing over the naked wide eyed baby, Kenya let the pointed tip of the knife she normally used to cut chicken and beef, press down on his birthmark which was located exactly where Storm's was.
I should just slit your damn throat you little troublemaker! You straight foul!
Noticing again his brown eyes looked like her beloved Gran's, Kenya felt chill bumps race down her arms.
I just wanna be happy.
She cried.
I want things back the way they were for me and Storm.

Letting revenge win over family loyalty, Kenya still had no remorse in her heart for what she allowed to just happen to London and worst than that what she was about to do to her newborn; Storm's illegitimate seed.