Wickman •Nardo Wick•

22•

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"Nardo," I yell out as he stops pulls out his gun.

"You my shootah," he asks me, looking in my eyes. I gulp loudly. "You gon ride for me?"

I just stare at him, my legs shaking. I'm scared. I don't know where my confidence went, but it ain't here.

"Babygirl, look at me. Are you my wicked witch?"

I nod my head and pull out my gun. Nardo swerves the car back around and shoots at Quando.

"Blam boom, tryna put a nigga on the damn news," he says with a chuckle. "A gun is supposed to shoot out bullets."

I look at him confused. Wait, he wants me to shoot too. I begin shooting in the same direction as Nardo. I hear a scream. Then a body drop. And then another scream.

"Damn you got good aim," Nardo says. I look back at to where we were shooting. Quando is on the ground, with a bullet in his head. I just killed somebody.

I drop the gun and look at my hands.

"You gotta pull over," I scream. I can't just leave him there. He has a family out there. Maybe a daughter, who needs her father. Or a son, who needs an example. Quando may be a bad example, but that love matters.

"He's dead Alex," Nardo says, speeding away. The car is going so fast I might throw up. Or maybe it's the fact that somebody's life was taken and it's my fault.

"I-I k-," I can't even finish. I just made somebody stop breathing.

"Shit was bullseye," he says, chuckling. But nothing is funny.

"He isn't breathing anymore," I say, pulling my knees to my chest. I rock back and forth trying to find my breath. But I lost it just like he lost his life. "My fault. I did it. It was me. I killed him. I need to tell my mama!"

Nardo snatches my phone and throws it out the window.

"I just shot a man down," I scream. I don't mean to, it just slips out. He quickly rolls the window back up.

"Are you stupid," he screams at me, passing up a red light. 

"I am a criminal. Lord have mercy," I rock back in forth. "What ever happened to me?"

"Calm down," he says, placing his hand on my knee.

"I didn't mean to hurt him," I whisper.

"I know," he whispers back to me, rubbing my leg as comfort.

"Coulda been somebody's son," I whisper again. His hand pushes down my knee and he pulls over to the side of the road. I feel my seatbelt unbuckle and snap up. I lift my arm to let it.

"Come here," he tells me, with his arms out. I don't move. I can't move. I'm frozen, like Quando's body. On concrete. His blood. His blood. Blood. "Come here."

He pulls me onto his lap like a father would an infant child. I still can't move. I can barely breathe. He wraps his arms around me, and rubs my back.

"Shhhh," he whispers every few seconds. "It's okay."

I shake my head and continue to bawl my eyes out.

"Why did I pull the trigger," I ask myself, as I stare out the window. We're at an unfamiliar house.

"Because you're my ride or die," he responds.

"I don't wanna ride. Every time I ride I die, ion wanna ride no more Nardo. I wanna die."