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  For Rayne things were moving in slow motion, it was like she was living in a horror flick, a nightmare. She was having problems striking the match. The detective didn’t even notice her difficulties.

  “Help me get this shit lit you fuck!” Rayne shouted.

  “Feisty…” The detective laughed. Instead of striking the match he took the cuff off of her shackled hand.

  “Thanks,” she deadpanned.

  After a couple of tries, Rayne lit the cigarette and took a long drag. She exhaled then broke down crying dejectedly. Detective Charles Burrows watched her with a curious expression. She looked up at him.

  “What the fuck…? Say something you fuck!”

  “Dora Dean Watson is dead. Shot two times in the back of her head.” Charles Burrows spoke slowly counting his words. He looked directly as he continued. “The forensic on the scene said she seemed to have been engaged in some sort of fight or struggle that left her with some initial head trauma before the execution.”

  “Execution…?” Rayne repeated. She was bewildered.

  “Not an execution, huh...? You tell me what it was then. Your friend Dora was beaten unconscious then shot. What were you girls doing on the south side of Philly? You are a long way from New York City. The house Dora’s body was found in is a well known crack house. Two other women were shot. There was a man’s body found inside the house, dead from a slug from a shotgun found twenty feet from the house and another man inside the house without a head, dead from a slug from that very shotgun.”

  “So…?” Rayne asked.

  She took another puff from the cigarette, rested it in the ashtray and wiped her tears. They all wore gloves. During the drive, when Rayne was searching for a hospital she made Bernadette collect the gloves and toss them out the window. Rayne thought about Sabrina and Bernadette, She started crying again.

  “My girls, are they okay?” Rayne’s voice was strained with concern.

  “Alive yes,” Charles Burrows laughed. “None of you are okay. You’re all in deep shit, deep trouble. You best tell me, what were you all doing at the house. Don’t make it harder on yourself.”

  “What makes you think we were there?”

  “How about blood samples that match Sabrina’s and Bernadette’s…?”

  The detective stood up and moved his face closer to Rayne’s.

  “Do you know how much time has gone by since you’ve been in custody? No you don’t. You were pretty messed up, not like your friends but emotionally and mentally. We pulled your records, had to get them from New York. You are highly anemic. Your bipolar with a manic depressive personality. Rayne, you’re a real piece of work. We were able to get you your medication, Lithium, Zoloft, iron pills. The medical record suggested we get them and get them fast. It seems you’re some type of a lunatic.” The detective laughed.

  “Fuck you!” Rayne shouted.

  The detective became serious and stared at her.

  “Read me my fucking rights.” She shouted even louder.

  “You were in such an emotional state we weren’t able to get anything but rambling out of you. It’s Monday morning. You don’t even remember your stay in the cell, now do you?”

  Rayne straightened her back. The detective’s words had stunned her. She sat quiet, almost pensive.

  “Fuck you!” Rayne rose from the chair, grabbed it and tossed it at the detective.

  He ducked narrowly evading the chair. The detective became enraged and flipped the table over. Rayne backed away from him, scanning the room for anything she could use as a weapon. Before she could react, the detective grabbed her by the hair and forced her against the wall. He got real close to her. His massive body pinned Rayne’s five foot-six inch, one hundred and twenty pound frame to the wall. She was an extraordinary mixture of Puerto Rican and Black, her hair was long.

  “Get off…you dirty ass, motherfucking freak…”

  Obscenities were hurled at him but the detective kept his fingers tangled up in her tress. Her breathing went shallow as he thrust her face into the wall.

  Rayne felt what could’ve been his erection poking her ass while he held her. He smashed his body up against hers, flattening her against the wall. Her breasts were hurting and her breathing was labored.

  “You are gonna go to jail for a long time Rayne Avila,” he hissed in her ear. “Your girls are talking. All of you are going to jail.”

  She smelt the detective’s nasty breath. She wanted to scream but didn’t want to give him anymore pleasure.

  “If you wanna make it easier, you better tell me something good.”

  It was definitely his dick. The detective was grinding his midsection into her while he had her hemmed up. She felt him get harder against her ass.

  “You nasty ass, motherfucka…”

  She felt her airflow cut-off. Rayne could barely get the words out. The detective loosened his hold on her hair and grabbed her by the neck. He threw her to the floor. Rayne stared at him with indifference. She could only see red. The detective composed himself and put the table back on its legs.

  “Sit down.” Detective Burrows ordered. “And you best tell me what happened on Saturday morning? Tell me why you were at Steve Sanford’s crack house and why Dora Dean Watson’s body was found on the kitchen floor battered and bruised with two bullets to the back of the head.”

  “I don’t fucking know,” Rayne said then started crying again. “Put me back in the fucking cell. I don’t know shit and I ain’t telling you nothing.”

  “You ain’t telling, but your girls are. They are chirping like canaries.”

  Rayne gave a hysterical shriek. “I’m fucking crazy!”

  “You’re going to jail too. Whether you say shit or not, you’re all going to jail. We got enough to lock you, Sabrina and Bernadette up but Dora, she’s dead. Don’t you care about her?”

  “Fuck you!” Rayne shouted.

  She jumped out of her seat. So did the detective. They were both standing on opposite sides of the table staring at each other. Rayne had tears in her eyes. Detective Burrows began laughing again.

  “You need to take your medication,” he said.

  “I need to speak to my lawyer.”

  “What lawyer? You’ll get your time in court and you’ll get one appointed to you. Nothing you say, nothing a lawyer says is gonna help you or bring Dora back to life. You girls fucked up. You know you fucked up right? This isn’t the first time you’ve done this, it’s just the first time shit got fucked up.”

  “Done what?” Rayne snapped. “Just what did we do?” Rayne began the hysterical laughter again. “I want my meds, You know. I’m fucking crazy!”

  three

  She was locked inside the cell. An hour later an officer handed her two pills, a bottle of water and a sandwich between the bars. Rayne took everything. She squat back down on the only piece of furniture in the cell, a hard bench. Rayne swallowed the pills after downing the ham and cheese sandwich. Then she lay back on the bench.

  Her mind began to slowly adjust itself. She hated the way the medication made her feel. It left her far too relaxed and too weak. But without it she wasn’t able to function normally. Her skin crawled when she thought of the violence outside the house. Rayne wished she had gone inside. Rayne laughed at the thrill of the violence. The medication stopped her from shaking. That was the best thing about taking it.

  She yawned.

  “Dora,” She uttered her friend’s name. “Dora, they got you girl. You were my bitch. Sabrina, Bernadette, you’re all my bitches.”

  Dora wasn’t the one she was the closest to, Sabrina was. They had shared everything, including the same man.

  Rayne thoughts flowed back to when she first met Sabrina. It was like the planets were aligned that day.

  She let out a laugh. “Who would’ve thought shit would go down like this. Dora baby, they got you.”

  Rayne was known for talking to herself for hours but she was in the belly of the beast, where she had to keep her mouth
shut. Her shit had to stay tight. She was fucked up, in jail. Where did it begin? Rayne wondered.

  It was beyond what happened Saturday night, beyond the drug dealer, Steve Stunner and the box full of money under the kitchen sink in the crack house. It started with the bond she had with her girls. The four of them together were called the Fatal Four. They were spot rushers they robbed drug dealers. It was what they did. That was how they earned their living.

  Trevor had named them the Fatal Four. He had set things in motion. Rayne smiled. Thoughts of Trevor overwhelmed her. She missed him inside her. Trevor was the only man she’d ever let shoot sperm up in her.

  Trevor had to die. Love for her girls went beyond even the nigga who helped form the union. Rayne thought about her girl Sabrina. Sabrina killed Trevor. Trevor didn’t deserve to die. He was fucked up but so were the others. None of them were anything nice but they had fun times.

  The wheels of Rayne’s mind kept spinning back in time. She thought back to how tall Sabrina looked when she’d first seen her. Sabrina looked like an Amazon in the hood. She was five feet eleven and weighed about a hundred and sixty pounds. She was a healthy looking girl, not husky and manly looking like Bernadette. Sabrina was beautiful. She had the prettiest face.

  Trevor was Sabrina’s man first. Sabrina had found out about Rayne and threatened to beat her ass. Sabrina was always out in the streets fighting some bitch. It didn’t matter the size of these girls, Sabrina beat their asses all the same.

  Sabrina had told Rayne that she used to study karate and ballet when she was younger. She was from good upbringing unlike Rayne, who came from shit. Rayne was born and raised in the Bronx. She came from the sperm of a dope-fiend and was birthed from the womb of an alcoholic.

  Everyone who was around to see Sabrina and Rayne square off, knew it would be a good fight. Rayne wasn’t very big. Back in ’94 she was a skinny thing. She’d gain weight later. Rayne wasn’t a punk. She was part of the streets like asphalt was part of the blacktop. She was out everyday selling drugs with Trevor, her man and Sabrina’s.

  It was the middle of the day. Sabrina popped up on the corner where Trevor plied his trade. Rayne was there all up under his ass. There was no hesitation, Sabrina ran up on her, grabbed her long hair and repeatedly swung at her face. Rayne was hit about a dozen times before she was able to reach up and scratch Sabrina’s eyes.

  Rayne heard the scream and knew she damaged Sabrina’s once undamaged face. Rayne went in for the kill and was punching Sabrina’s face. Sabrina delivered a kick that seemed straight out of a Kung Fu flick.

  Rayne went down to her knees clutching her midsection. Sabrina didn’t stop. She was on her like a cheap suit, jumping on top with punches raining upside Rayne’s head. Sabrina beat Rayne until her nose was bloody. Trevor was able to pull Sabrina off a defeated and temporary disabled Rayne. Sabrina turned her anger on Trevor and started fighting him.

  He wasn’t for bitches hitting him. Trevor had a rep to protect. He smothered Sabrina’s punches. She kept coming and finally he smacked her in the face. Sabrina was tall but Trevor was taller. Sabrina was crying, angry, wanted to kill Trevor but she loved him. So did Rayne.

  They were both eighteen years old. Rayne had been out on her own since she was fifteen years old. She wasn’t safe in her house. Her father was the sort of man who used to sexually assault his own children. Neither friends nor cousins were exempt from his indiscretions. Rayne’s mother was so drunk; most of the time she didn’t even know what day it was. Rayne was sick and tired of her father’s ways so she ran away from home.

  Sabrina was raised in an upper middle class community in Brooklyn and had gone to catholic school. Besides being beautiful, she was spoiled and a bad ass. She was a sucker for peer pressure. Her father was a foreman at a small construction company. He died in a fluke accident on the job when Sabrina was only fourteen. After that, her mother seemed to care less and less about anything. Then along came Trevor and Sabrina went big for him. His mother lived a couple of blocks from Sabrina.

  They started a relationship when she was fifteen. His affair with Rayne started when she was sixteen. They both weren’t gonna give him up without a fight.

  Blood was all over Rayne’s tank top. She spat a razor out of her mouth and into her right hand. Trevor saw and knew Rayne was crazy. They lived together and he always made sure she took her medications.

  “You better bounce,” Trevor said to Sabrina as Rayne staggered up with the blade.

  Sabrina didn’t budge and caught a buck-fifty on her beautiful face. The thin slice started from the lower part of her left eye and ended at the bottom of her jaw. A second later blood was all over the place. Rayne just remembered all the red. Whenever things turned violent she’d go blank and all she saw was crimson, blood dripping. Sabrina stayed and fought despite the cut. Trevor held Sabrina back. Rayne swung the razor again but missed.

  When Rayne spat blade it always turned into something awful. She was kicked out of high school for carving up another student. The girl came out of the hospital with over two hundred stitches on her face. The poor girl looked like Edward Scissorhands.

  Rayne went overboard with everything. She was an extremist when she wasn’t on her meds. The day she was introduced to Sabrina, Trevor made sure she had taken her medication. He felt responsible for her and kept her fed three times a day. Rayne never had any sort of appetite, she was anemic.

  It all came to an end when Sabrina murdered Trevor. The vision replayed in Rayne’s mind like it had just happened. Sabrina had put the gun between Trevor’s eyes. Rayne watched his expression. He was smiling, thinking it was a joke. Sabrina wasn’t joking and pulled the trigger.

  Rayne saw the blood and felt the warm, crimson fluid wet her face. She was right next to him. Trevor’s blood and bits of his cranium were all over Sabrina and Rayne.

  Bernadette was in the room with them. She didn’t say a thing. They cleaned up and got rid of Trevor’s body. Their bond was stronger than the man who brought them together. It was till death, Trevor’s death, Dora’s death and beyond.

  We were sharing Trevor, Rayne thought, just me and Sabrina though. That had been the unspoken rule. Trevor fucked Dora Dean. Sabrina would’ve killed Dora if it weren’t for the fact that Trevor damn near forced his dick into her. Either way Trevor got his brains blown out every way possible. Rayne laughed.

  The cops in the precinct stared at her like she was crazy.

  She screamed. “All of us are crazy.”

  The Fatal Four were no more. Dora Dean was dead. Rayne didn’t know exactly how it happened. There were only three of them left.

  The detective told her a bit but didn’t reveal too much. Rayne knew Sabrina and Bernadette weren’t saying shit. Her girls would keep their mouths shut and she wouldn’t say shit either.

  Rayne wished she knew more about the law. Sabrina was smart and Bernadette had been in jail so many times that she knew the judicial system backwards and forwards. The medication paralyzed her mind.

  Rayne closed her eyes.

  four

  Bernadette had so many holes in her body. She had been shot four times.

  “I’ve got a hole in my ass, one in my pussy, two in my nose and two in my ears. Lord knows I didn’t need anymore,” she hissed.

  Bernadette wasn’t sure whether Sabrina was alive. She didn’t know where Rayne had been taken. She knew Dora Dean was dead. She had to be. Bernadette was sure the two bullets she heard while trying to get out of the kitchen ended her life. Dora face down on the floor was the last glimpse of her Bernadette had. There was no way she could’ve recovered from that onslaught.

  Bernadette didn’t wanna be where she was. She wanted to escape her perdicament. She wanted to run out but that was virtually impossible.

  A cop was stationed right outside the hospital room and her swollen right ankle was shackled to the bed. Bernadette wasn’t in any condition to attempt an escape even if it was a possibility. She knew it wasn’t. Her left leg was e
levated. She’d gotten shot in the back of her thigh. Bernadette also took a bullet in the right arm and one in her right shoulder.

  She had multiple surgeries and all of the bullets were removed. Her injuries weren’t as bad as they appeared. She’d been in the hospital for three days and was already able to move her right arm and wiggle her left toes. The dyke was in a lot of pain and was heavily sedated. It didn’t bother her much. Bernadette was always on something. She was a habitual weed smoker, already addicted to Tylenol pm and she was an alcoholic.

  The last thing she remembered was Rayne driving to the hospital and hopping out to get help. Bernadette’s injuries rendered her unconscious. When she woke up she found herself lying on a hospital bed handcuffed by the ankle, heavily medicated and looking into the face of a female officer.

  “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney…do you understand these rights?”

  Bernadette closed her eyes, blocked the voice out of her mind and silently cursed her faith. She’d been arrested more times than she cared to remember. She knew the drill. However this time things were different.

  Everything went wrong from the beginning. Once they walked inside that crack house, it was like they were expected. Dora Dean knew something was wrong. It was dark in the front room, no lights were on. She’d been inside the house but never seen it completely dark before.

  Bernadette saw a bat hit Dora over the head. It wasn’t a very good swing but it got her good enough. A dude was creeping up on Sabrina. She saw him before he could get to her.

  Sabrina towered over the dude. He had a golf club. Sabrina aimed the shotty in her hand. He ran towards a leather sofa. Sabrina pulled the trigger. The shotgun’s slug exploded into a side of the sofa. The dude made it to the other side just in time.

  Sabrina still heard the guy breathing heavily and cursing. He didn’t sound like he was in any pain.