Lose Control

This is the type of stuff my daddy warned me about.

The shackles around my ankles echo with each step I take, and I hear him saying, "People are going to use you to get what they want, Shai. They can only ruin you if you let them."

Well I let them, and now his words were of no use to me over here in the state of California's federal penitentiary. I was stuck here, out of a home and with not a shoulder to lean on. I yearned to be home, so I dreaded the forthcoming steps.

"When you get out there, stay focused," he tried to get through my thick skull.

But I am my mother's child, what could I do now?

Before everything fell apart, I was enjoying what life had to offer. I had a nice condominium in Hollywood Hills; I attended Pepperdine University in Malibu; I had plenty of friends and a nice piece of arm candy, but one person messed all of that up for me, and so you see, the bitch had to die. The only thing I can say that I actually regret was getting caught.

If I was Bonnie, I thought my so-called "boyfriend" would be my Clyde, but that punk had nerve to sing to Los Angeles Police Department that I got rid of her. Yeah she was his sister and all, but the bitch had it coming to her, I just got to her first.

My veins started pulsating at the thought of my fingers wrapped around her neck. I felt my adrenaline building up again, so I stopped. The correction officer, or should I say escort, looked at me with prying eyes, so I rolled my own pair.

"C'mon let's go," he pushed me.

I had to refrain from elbowing him, remembering how being in isolation drove me crazy.

I began walking faster, fidgeting my fingers only because I had nothing else to do with them.

I could see the window, and I could see her sitting there, with her face in her hands. Her back rose and fell after each sob and for some strange reason it did not bother me.

I waited for my escort to un-cuff my hands and legs before stretching to take a seat. I looked at her long and hard, but I was not vexed, I was actually comfortable seeing her like this. We made eye contact and she picked up the phone, but I did not pick up mine.

Her lips began moving and even though I could not hear her, I knew exactly what she was telling me. I gave her look as if to say, "is that all", and she sighed giving up hope that I was the little girl she raised me to be long ago. Truth is, that little girl died with that bitch.

She, my mother that is, raised her hand to her face, kissing it before palming the glass. I started getting up and cut my eyes at her as the officer cuffed me again. The last thing I saw her say was "I love you, Baby."

I do not remember the walk to my room, but I do remember lying in bed wide-eyed. It had sunk in, and I did not understand. It was the same concept as the death of the woman who took my life, she stopped breathing and so did her heartbeat, but I did not understand how the soul just stopped functioning.

I refused to believe what my mother told me had come to pass. I was offered to attend the funeral, but I turned it down, because it just was not true. If the soul left the body, it could just find new one, right?

I got a letter from my ex- saying that he had a little girl. It was not my little girl so why should I care. I wanted a little girl, or boy, all I know is that I wanted his child and that bitch knew that. I wanted our child to look into my eyes and wonder if I would guide it down the right path, and I wanted to kiss those fears away because I believe that the father and I had our shit together, unlike my parents. He never knew, and I will never tell him, that I was pregnant when his sister killed my spirit, that is something that I will take with me to the grave.

The grave, supposedly that is where he is resting in peace, my father, but that is far from the truth, because he still speaks to me.

I wanted everything my parents never had, and I had to get them at all costs. My mother had me when she was just sixteen, so she dropped out of highschool, six credits short of graduation, I felt she owed herself and her future that much to put herself through the summer she could have used to attain her diploma. My dad was a drug lord, and got locked up when I was five. Our phone conversations were the epitome of our relationship, but I took that away from him.

"Shai, life is precious, don't take it for granted," he cautioned me. "You can not play GOD, so give life the best shot you have because once your time is done here on Earth, then you're gone forever."

"Then why are you still here?" I asked.

"Because I told you before, you have to let things of the past go, before you can move on," he answered.

I wept that night, and then I let him go. I wondered what he was always trying to warn me about, but that chapter was through; I messed up, big time, and I knew it. My daddy died of a broken heart.

I had given up trying to place blame on everyone else but myself, everything wrong in my life happened because of me, I had let someone or something consume me, and now, I was paying for it dearly. I have decided that for now on, I was in control of me, and my first plan of action was to learn control.