I was scared shitless. I was scared, but I was tired, I was done with the abuse and this life. I could die tonight, but hey there were many nights I thought I would die but here I am. I’ve made some bad decisions in my life, I can acknowledge that, however, there comes a time when you have to dig in your heels to gear down. Tonight is the night I’ve decided to gear down and grab control of whatever was left of the shambles of my life at the age of 24. Why should I continue to be someone’s punching bag? I’ve had enough. It ends tonight. I’m sure people were wondering why I was still with Gregory Myers m, who was twice my age, after 7 years, but I felt like there was no way out. I didn’t have hope or independence; I was basically nobody without him. My mother gave me to him for a cocaine fix when I was 17 and he has owned me since then. My mother died shortly after. I depended on him for everything- food, clothes, personal supplies, everything a girl would need. I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere without him, have friends or even talk to anybody. My mother was all the family I had and after she passed, that was it, all I had was Greg.
He was out as usual doing God knows what, but I know he wasn’t far and he would be home at any minute. I had a quick shower, sprayed the Victoria Secret fragrance he liked all over my body and threw on a white tank top and black sheer thong. He liked to see me half naked when he came home. The thought of him touching me was repulsive after having endured verbal, emotional and physical abuse from the same lips and hands for years. I placed my hands over my stomach where my baby once laid. I could still feel the punches to my abdomen, the kicks while I curled on the ground; and the excruciating pain I felt as I miscarried my baby. Why? All because the cashier at the supermarket smiled at me when I thanked him for packaging our groceries. He accused me of flirting and leading him on and that he witnessed it for himself. That night he fired several shots in the house, swearing that he would kill me and be done with it because he was tired of people snickering and whispering behind their hands every time they saw him. They were probably talking about all the beatings he gave me for no reason especially when he was drunk. Losing my baby was the last straw for me. I didn’t want any part of him but but I saw that baby as a part of me. That fucker accused me of cheating claiming the baby was not his. His malicious act toward me in my pregnant state was deliberate. I hated him and I was scared of him. Maybe I would die trying this night, but I was gonna try.
They say the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, but for Gregory, it was through his dick. Give him a good fuck and he would be as sound asleep as a well fed baby. As I prepared myself, I wondered what kind of mood he would be in when he got home. I didn’t know, but whatever his mood was, I was going to take my freedom tonight.
“Yow Krissy!” His loud voice permeated the small board house we occupied in the small garrison community in May Pen. He was standing at the entrance with a Red Stripe beer bottle in his hand. I guess he was at his usual spot at the nearby bar.
“I’m here,” I called as I strutted from the bedroom wearing a blonde wig he got me to role play in. ‘Sick motherfucker,’ I thought as I shook my head inwardly. I could see his eyes devouring my half naked body and I cringed internally. He was dressed in blue jeans that were way too small that sagged way below his butt and white t-shirt that barely covered his underwear and the black flock pistol he always carried was lodged in the back.
“A wah you de pan?” He asked placing the half empty bottle on the kitchen counter, a lascivious glint appearing in his eyes as he took in my nipples straining against the tank top barely covering my perky breasts and my thong that left little to the imagination. I walked to him and threw my arms around his neck pushing my body into his. His hands immediately gripped my ass tightly squeezing and roughly pulled my hips closer to him. I could feel his already turgid dick.
“Anu nuttn, mi jus wah feel mi man tonight. A long time me nu get none enu,” I said seductively mustering the strength I garnered over the years to block his touch from my consciousness. His breath reeked of marijuana, cigarette and beer. I almost gagged but I held it together remembering my plan. I started backing away toward the small bedroom and he followed me willingly. Pussy has always been his weakness, hence the hoards of baby mothers he had in the neighboring communities. To be honest, his other women were my saving grace as he rarely had much interest in having sex with me often complaining that I was ‘too dry and likkle.’ There were the rare drunken nights when I would feel his cock forcing into my pussy from behind while I slept. Those nights I had to endure silently until he grew tired and fell asleep without finishing the act. I felt violated, as if I was being raped. I was disgusted just looking at him much more to have him touch me; I preferred to be beaten.
“Yea? yu wah cocky?” His smile widened as my hand went around his back and removed the firearm from his waistband carefully placing it on the night stand. I started opening his belt but he slapped my hands away. Pushing me facedown on the bed, he opened his pants and freed his straining dick.
“Bomboclaat a good while me nu feel da pussy ya enu!” He said roughly. “Gal position! Cock up yu batty!” I positioned myself on my hands and knees pushing my butt in the air as commanded. He grabbed one side of the thong dragging it to the side to expose my shaved pussy. I could hear his moan of appreciation just before he slammed into me. Excruciating pain shot through me as he rammed into me with all his might. It took every ounce of self control I had not to scream from the pain and discomfort. I thought about my plan to escape and I immediately started acting the part. I moaned and groaned loudly calling his name as I clung to the sheets.
“Only you can fuck me enu! A fi yu pussy dis enu,” I groaned.
“Memba bloodclaat dat!” He said loudly as he continued to slam in and out of me.
“Anybody else touch dis mi kill you and dem pussyclaat!” He slapped my ass cheeks a few times reminding me what he would and could do if anyone else dared to touch me.
“Ahh!” I cried in pain and steals stung my eyes. He thought it was from the pleasure he was giving my a stated groaning loudly. I ground my teeth against the friction of his big dick against my dry pussy walls. Tears started to flow but quickly dashed them away and held them at bay.
“You like that?!” He asked his breathing shallow. His strokes were getting shorter as he dug his fingers into my hips. As bronze as my skin was I knew it would leave me with some bruises. This was no different from the other times he forced himself on me.
“Yes!” I lied.
“You a cum?” He asked anxiously. I could tell he was ready and I couldn’t wait for him to be finished.
“Yes baby! You nuh feel me a wet up yu cocky?!” I said mustering enough emotion to sound sincere.
“Gal yu hole good yu fuck!” On that note he made one long, hard thrust and went limp collapsing on my back. As was his customary style, he rolled over on his back fully spent and satisfied and fell into a sound sleep.
Usually I would lie beside him contemplating how much I hated him and wished there was a way for me to leave, but tonight I spared no time. I got up gingerly and tiptoed to the bathroom to clean-up and change into the jeans and T-shirt I had hidden behind the toilet tank. After dressing quickly, I grabbed my backpack from under the bed that held my few personal items and the money I had stashed away. Money I took from his wallet every time he came in and passed out drunk; money I took from his weed stash everyday for the past two years. After my miscarriage I was determined to get away from him. I can still feel the sting of the pain in my back when I crashed into the side table. This motherfucker would have made me bleed to death had I not cried all night begging him to take me to the hospital.
I moved quietly around the room as he snored loudly. I checked the messages on my phone and I saw that the confirmation text had come in and the car was waiting for me 4 blocks away.
I looked at him in the bed sleeping so peacefully, snoring loudly and contemplated putting a bullet through his head for the hell he put me through. My eyes landed on the revolver on the side table and I thought of the many times he hit me or threatened to kill me with that same gun. Not being able to kill him right now tore me up so badly inside. I looked around the room and then at myself in the mirror on the wall. Tears pooled in my eyes at the raw, unbridled lack of care and fear I saw in my small face. The wig I wore earlier was displaced during the nasty unsatisfactory fuck and my short black curls framed my face. My eyes were huge and frightened but filled with resolve. This was it. I took one last look around the room, threw the bag over my shoulders, and placed a baseball cap to cover my curls and tiptoed out of the house without a backward glance.
It was about 1 am and stray dogs barked as I quickly moved through the streets my legs shaking uncontrollably as I moved toward the location where a black tinted corolla was parked on the curb. The dogs were barking out of control as if there was someone else behind me. I kept looking behind me but I saw nothing though the thick darkness. I kept going, the adrenaline propelling my legs forward. When you live in a garrison community the probability of someone seeing you no matter how late was significantly high. I was happy the car was parked a bit a way from the entrance of the community. It was possible that at least one person saw me leave the house and would tell Greg by first light. My hand shook as I knocked lightly on the driver window.
I was taking a real risk doing this, but the way I saw it, I’d prefer it if a stranger killed me than stay in that house and be killed by Greg. Two weeks ago I saw an ad facebook about working on a cruise ship. I quickly called the phone number and a Maxine Munroe spoke to me about the opportunity. She asked if I was really serious about this job and if I had any prior experience and I immediately burst out crying while begging her to consider me. She gave me this date and time and told me a car would pick me up. I was was so happy and excited I didn’t question the middle of the night pick up time.
I heard the click of the locks and without thinking I threw the back door open and jumped in. The car was dark and the smell of the car freshener assailed my nostrils. There was a man in the driver seat dressed in a black suit. He did not speak, or turn around to look at me, he kept his head facing front. I was scared to speak I sat in the backseat staring at the back of his shaved head, my breathing heavy from running through the streets. I could not make out anything of his features in the dark. As soon as I slammed the door closed he put the car in drive a sped off. I was so desperate to escape Greg I didn’t care that maybe I was jumping into fire. I had to do what was best for me.
I was a ball of nerves as the car pulled into a small airplane hanger. I wasn’t sure how long we drove or where we were because my mind was all over the place. What the fuck was I doing? I had a deep trepidation in the pit of my stomach as the severity of what I did sank in. This was nothing like the Facebook ad; this looked shady as fuck. The car drove up to the doors of the hanger and the doors automatically opened showing the well-lit hanger. There was a small aircraft that looked like it had the capacity to hold 7-10 persons plus the pilots. There were some white men dressed in black suits with air pieces standing around like they were secret service agents. As if on cue when the car stopped I heard the click of the locks being released. With shaking fingers I opened the door and stepped out of the car.
A middle aged woman dressed in dark navy pant suit flanked by two secret service looking men appeared out of nowhere. Her makeup was flawless, she was stunning. I must have been gaping at her looking scared because she smiled and extended her hand to me.
“You must be Kristine Brown. I’m Maxine Munroe.” Her speech was impeccable. In fact, there was a hint of an accent even to my inexperienced ears. I couldn’t tell from where but it was very potent. I removed my cap that was hiding my face and the sweaty hand clutching at my backpack reluctantly took hers without speaking.
Her eyes widened in shock as she took in my appearance, “You are gorgeous but you look like you’ve been through hell.” She stated frankly perusing my body but her smile was kind. My hand instinctively went to my jet black curls, trying to put them in place after removing the hat and also in embarrassment to her forthright statement.
“Your cellphone please,” she ordered extending her hands. I dug into my pocket without hesitation handing her my battered phone. She immediately took it between her thumb and forefinger and passed it to one of the men. He took it, smashed it on the floor and stomped on it smashing it to pieces. I didn’t flinch, I had real friends contacting me anyway. Those who did, did so to take news back to Greg; and there was Greg himself who called because he was outright possessive and obsessive. I didn’t know where I would end up, but anywhere was better than where I was coming from.
“You don’t have to be afraid. Nobody will hurt you,” she continued speaking to me in that kind way.
“You will work on a cruise ship traveling to Europe, but we need you to transport packages to the Bahamas where you will meet and board the cruise ship.”
“Packages?” I asked suddenly finding my voice. I watched enough movies to know that “a package” was something illegal and often cost lives.
She continued speaking without acknowledging my question. “You will be given an American passport with your new identity. Your new name is Joanna Scott, your age will remain the same 24 years old, your occupation is retailer. This plane will land in the Bahamas where you will be picked up by a car. Deliver the packages to the location where you will be taken. After delivery, you will be taken to the cruise ship docked at the pier. Board the ship and ask for Mr. Marvin.”
“Yes ma’am,” I whispered trying to control the shaking of my body. The gravity of my situation hit me like a wrecking ball. She kept referring to these packages and I was scared. My life was a fucked up mess, but I was here and there was no going back.
“Relax Kristine. Walk with me. What you see here stays right here. Never speak of it. Unless of course you want your tongue ripped from your mouth.” She said it so nonchalantly, it’s as if she was talking about the weather. She started walking toward the back of the hanger; I swallowed hard and followed her, trying to convince my mind that this hell was better than the hell I was in with Greg. There was a pair of double doors at the back. The men pushed the doors open exposing a set of stairs going down toward an underground area. They stood to the side allowing Ms. Munroe and I to precede them down the stairs. At the end of the stairs there was another door but this door was code locked.
I felt like I was in a movie when I walked into that ‘cellar’. What I saw was indescribable. At first glance, it looked like an ordinary sneaker factory, but upon close inspection my eyes widened and my mouth fell open at the large scale narcotic making operation that was before my eyes. Both men and women were intently focused and engrossed in their individual tasks of either cooking, pressing or packaging every kind of illegal drug you could think of, they did not hear our entrance. My mind immediately went back to my childhood, seeing my mother stoned all day all the time and I immediately started regretting my decision. Had I known this was what I was getting myself into I would not be here. The world was such a fucked up place! There was no happy ending and no good to be found by anyone who sought to find solace from its dreadful reality. It suddenly dawned on me what my role was in this scheme. I was going to be used as a drug mule.
“Not a fucking shit!” I mumbled and turned as if to run from the secret space but my exit was blocked by the two “secret service” looking men with their hands folded.
Miss Munroe’s eyebrows raised looking at me questioningly.
“This was a mistake. Mi cyah do dis,” I pleaded with her, the depth of my fear was etched on my face.
“You can and you will, Kristine. You’re in way too deep now. If you want to keep your life, you will proceed as planned.” Her eyes hardened. “If I make you leave, one of two things will happen. One, the boss will order you killed because you’ve seen way too much or two, the fuckwit boyfriend you have will kill you for running away from him.” I gasped at the reference made to Greg. How did she know?!
She stared directly into my eyes that were glowing with unshed tears. “I suggest you choose wisely. There is nothing to fear here. I am guaranteeing you freedom from the life you have, Kristine.”
“And what if I’m caught?” I asked, knowing the answering even before she voiced it.
“That would be a consequence you would have to deal with for choosing to do this. You will be compensated handsomely for your services and I guarantee you will not have to go back to that life if you make the delivery safely. If you are caught, whatever you do, do not utter a word about me or anything you see here, it would not end well for you.” She let out an exasperated sigh.
“I wish you would stop behaving like a pussy! That’s how people get caught! If you’re strong enough to run away from that man, you can do this! Besides, you won’t be alone.” She turned her attention back to the throng of workers and shouted,
“Shelly!” A tall model looking girl dressed in a mid drift blouse showing her navel ring, jeans, sneakers and a felt hat showed up almost instantly. She was also stunning. Her red Brazilian wig contrasted perfectly with her light brown skin tone. Her make up was perfect. She looked hip and young.
“Yes ma’am!” She said breathlessly as if she ran to us from wherever she was.
“Shelly, this is Joanna. She’s traveling with you tonight. Get her ready.” It was a command. Shelly took her cue.
“Yes ma’am,” she responded automatically to Ms. Munroe. Then she turned to me and smiled. “Come with me,” she said.
I followed her to what seemed like a storeroom with shelves stacked with boxes of the sneakers, belts and felt hats similar to what the Shelly girl wore.
“Hi I’m Shelly.” She stuck here hand out as she introduced herself once we were in the confined storeroom.
“I’m Kris...I mean I’m Joanna,” I quickly corrected my name before taking her hand.
“Rule one muuma, don’t fuck up yu name. Jus figet say yu did eva have another name from now.” It sounded a bit harsh but her eyes were kind. I nodded, understanding the repercussions of saying the wrong name.
“How long you a do this?” I asked her, my curiosity and fear mingled.
“Bout three years. I transport on and off but I work on the cruise ship. When the ship dock mi do some transporting work until we ready fi leave again.”
She handed me a pair of sneakers, a belt with a large buckle and a felt hat, all similar to what she wore. I took them, wondering where on them the “goods” were hidden.
“My girl you cyah be so bloodclaat fraidy fraidy when we a pass through immigration enu! I can see the living fear in your eyes.” She held my shoulders and looked into my eyes.
“You have to get it together, Muuma. Nobody nah go do you nothing unless you go talk. Jus remember di Jamaican motto muuma, ‘walk n live, talk an bomboclaat dead’. Just relax and put on the tings dem man”
I gave her a small nod and dropped my backpack deciding that either way I went would be hell anyway. Why not try a new hell? Even if caught, I would rather die before I told anybody about these people. I still had no idea who or what they were, but I was going to do this job, get paid, work on that ship and send myself back to school. I was not going back to Greg and that shack. I kicked off the old pair of flip flops and started to don the sneakers, that looked a lot like high top Nikes. They felt like normal sneakers, there was nothing unusual about them.
Shelly looked from my flip flops to my old jeans, to my old t-shirt and cap. “Take off da old raas blouse de man.” She went to a nearby suitcase and rummaged through it coming out with a white wide neck blouse. I took the blouse mumbling an embarrassed ‘thank you’.
I threw off my old t-shirt and threw hers over my head. It as a little big but the wide neck created a cute one shoulder off style. I ran the belt through the loops of my jeans and donned the hat.
“Perfect. Just one more thing.” She took a tube lipstick from her purse, the color of autumn leaves and applied it to my lips.
“Mi did stay just like you enu, Jo. Mi can see say you a run weh from something or smaddy. It doesn’t matter because nobody cyah touch you a bloodclaat wid dem people ya, you just have to do your best nu let them down. JamMob got yu back B! Mek a pussy try touch yu under dis an dem get gun shot, chop off hand, pull out tongue, you name it from all angles. They’ve been taking care of me. I’m happy and I want for nothing.” She spoke passionately and it showed her loyalty and devotion to these people.
“Mi know you nu know wah you a get inna exactly but this is pretty much the Italian Mob infiltrating the Jamaican streets. We do mostly trading of goods ya so because Jamaica is a sweet spot weh di goods can pass through easy easy. The MobBoss have the officials lock so him get fi do him ting. Him vicious yu fuck but him nu kill widout cause and reason.”
My interest was peaked. I may as well know what this was before I boarded that plane.
“Who’s this MobBoss? And what exactly are we transporting?” I asked with a bit more confidence.
“Raas! Yu can talk?!” She exclaimed laughing.
“Mi might as well kno wah mi a get miself inna. I’m already here.” I responded shrugging.
“There is compressed cocaine and high grade weed under the souls of every pair a shoes, lining the the inside of all the belts and the crown of the felt hats.” My mouth fell open at the sheer genius of these people. They manufactured the shoes, belts and hats themselves to transport their goods.
“That’s all you need to know fi now muuma. When we land in the Bahamas we are retailers selling these shoes, hats and belts.”
“Got it,” I said with a little more resolve than when I first got there. This was it. There was no turning back.
“You’ll be ok. Mek we shub!” She lead us out, pass the ‘factory’ up the stairs and out toward the loading area. They were loading the plane with the goods.
“Is everything on point for the shipment?” A tall man dressed in an impeccable navy blue Italian designer suit, pristine white shirt and shining cuff links. He was gloriously tall and muscular with deep dark eyes. Judging from his thick black curly hair, almost straight nose, tanned caramel skin tone and accent, he was of mixed heritage. His low shaved beard contrasted with his skin tone framing his jaw and too sexy, too pink lips. He had a small diamond stud in his right ear lobe. Fuck! He was hot! He was talking to Ms. Munroe and the other guys who were “cooking” were now gathered in the hanger and they gave their undivided attention. There were much more secret service looking, ‘men in black’ dudes standing around than I saw when I first got there.
“I can’t afford any fuckups. This a di biggest private shipment we ever ago attempt. Make sure things on point.” He continued. Even my young untrained ears could hear his accent mixed with our own Jamaican tongue. It was weird and sexy at the same time. Where was he from? Maybe he was Italian. Shelly had mentioned the Italian mob. But more importantly who the fuck was he?
“Bloodclaat the boss deh ya.” Shelly mumbled under her breath so that only I could hear her. As if on queue he turned his head in our direction.
“Shelly Eva ready!” He greeted Shelly who was walking in front of me, her tall curvy body blocking my tiny body. She stopped walking at his greeting, cupped her right fist with her left hand and did a small bow.
“Mob Boss!” She said.
Mob Boss? I thought frightened. He was here.
“And who’s that?” His eyes caught my frightened ones just before Shelly raised her head.
“Max, this is a new recruit. She came in tonight.” Ms. Munroe responded to his question.
“We’re using babies now. We a run a babysitting club? Wah di fuck a gwaan?” He asked turning to face her while everybody else’s eyes turned toward Shelly and I. My heart was pounding in my ears. I couldn’t afford for him to reject me. I needed this!
“She’s not underaged.” Ms. Munroe responded.
“We cyah afford any fuck ups on this trip. I don’t need a rooky fucking things up!”
“Max, she needs this.” Ms. Munroe said quietly to him.
“Mi nah run a bloodclaat charity shop Aunty! People inna the streets affi get dem goods.”
“Look how tiny and frightened she look. Like is a raasclaat pickni trafficking ring mi a run. Aunty mi keep a tell you mi cyah deal wid nuh fuck ups!” His anger was palpable. The men and Shelly started shifting nervously. I went through hell with Greg and I survived, I was not going to be swayed to tears by this man.
“I can do this.” My voice was strong in the silence of the warehouse. His eyebrows shot up.
“Shhh don’t...” Shelly turned frightened eyes to me but before she could say more I continued. I stepped from behind Shelly showing myself. His eyes widened just a fraction. I noticed because I was looking him dead in the eyes, I don’t think anybody else noticed.
“I’ve been beaten, punched, slapped and kicked for many years and I’m still standing. I’m stronger than I look. I’m prepared to suffer the consequences if it comes to it. Jus please.” I spoke with way more bravado than I felt, but I was determined.
He walked over to me slowly. Shelly scrambled away from him. He towered over my small stature. Hard dark eyes stared into deep brown eyes. I did not flinch. If he thought I was gonna show my fear he was mistaken.
“Remember, if you are caught keep quiet because if you talk I can personally guarantee your regret.” He said and turned away. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath and Shelly looked at me and gave me a small smile. I caught a whiff of his cologne. It was a mixture potent, sexy and come get me. His arrogance was something though. I was a baby?! What the fuck?! He gave me that look, like ‘I know you can’t do this.’ I was gonna prove this arrogant mother fucker wrong because I needed this more than anybody else.
Ms. Munroe walked over to me and handed me the passport with my new identity and a coil of US dollars. I don’t think I’ve ever held so much money in my life. She had a small smile on her lips and what seemed like new found respect in her eyes.
“That’s the first installment of your payment. After the goods are delivered safely you will be paid the rest. Have a safe flight.” She touched my shoulders and before walking away she said,“It’s going to be alright. Just relax.”
I gave her a small nod, took a breath and started to move toward the small Aero Commander 680 and that’s when I heard the unmistakable sound of the lock on a glock pistol being released. I’ve heard that sound so many times from guns being pulled at me over the years, I knew it anywhere. My ‘fight or flight’ instinct was always automatically fight because I didn’t want to die. The gun was aimed at Ms. Munroe who was closest to me after handing me the documents and money. My immediate response was to grab the back of her jacket dragging her back to me and away from the direction of the shooter. I pushed her forward and started running but before I could make two steps I heard the deafening sound of shots echoing in the warehouse. I felt a ball of fire in my back and I fell to the ground. Through my haze I could hear more shots, footsteps and shouting and my last thought before I was engulfed in darkness was, ‘God what did I do?!’ I ran from hell straight into hellfire...
