Grabbing Natasha up off the floor from being beat up by Monique, I carried her out to my car. I couldn't lie, Monique fucked her up, which is probably why she was cradled up not saying a word.

It wasn't until we were halfway to her house when she found the courage to finally speak up.

"I'm not understanding why the fuck you didn't break up the fucking fight, Lee!" she yelled as she pulled the mirror in the car so that she could examine herself.

The way her eyes bucked out of her when she saw that she was indeed fucked up, her lip was busted and swollen, and she had a black eye that she should be thankful didn't swell up and close. Also, her jaw was swollen from that super kick that Monique had given her.

Happy that I was in front of her building, I stopped right in front of the duplex that she stayed in.

"Alright, get ya' ass out and please, keep all ya' smart remarks to yourself because I don't care to hear them right now," I warned Natasha, but being the type of bitch that she was, she had to say something slick.

I don't know what it was about this day that had these bitches testing me, but I wasn't for the shit, which is why covered Natasha's whole face with hand with so much force that it caused her head to fall back.

"Didn't I tell yo' ass to save the shit talking? You bitches will learn one day I am not the nigga to play with. Get the fuck out my ride." Watching her scramble out of my car, she was in such a rush to get out that she had left her purse on the floor of my car.

"You forgot something!" I yelled out as I tossed it out of my window, speeding away so fast I didn't even see it when it hit the ground.

On the ride back, all I could think about was the words Mo said to me. I couldn't even believe she would open her mouth to disrespect a nigga like me. Yeah, I've done worse shit, but women and men are not on the same level. She had a pussy, and I had a dick. Her shit was way more sacred. Also, I'm a nigga, I can do shit that she better never think about doing because the consequences would be death. Simple.

After speeding through these Houston's streets, I was now pulling up in our driveway, throwing my head back, and looking up at the roof. I sat there for a minute, pondering over my life and how bad shit was for me and Monique. I was supposed to be making her happy and loving her, but I couldn't seem to get it fucking right. I knew I had done some serious damage to Monique, I blacked out. I had lost all control, every day it seemed harder and harder for me to control. Would I ever change, probably not; I was a corrupted soul. The shit was lowkey aggravating.

Taking the keys out of the ignition, I got out the car and went inside of my house. Walking slowly, I headed towards my bedroom.

It seemed as though it took me forever, but I had finally made it to my bedroom door. Placing my hands in my pocket, I sighed as I was about to come face to face to the damage that I had done.

Placing one hand on the door and the other on the doorknob, I stood there for a couple of seconds, took a deep breath, then entered the room. Looking at the blood that was all over the room, you would have thought it was a murder crime scene. The bed was a mess, the covers to the bed were half way off, and the pictures that once held a place on the wall were now on the floor shattered. And then there was Monique still where I had left her, balled up like a baby inside of her mother's womb. She looked so fragile, and being that I was the cause of this, I was honestly scared to touch her. She was black and blue with blood everywhere, not even having to touch her I could see the pain that I had caused her seeping through her pores. Why do I have to take it this far? I sighed. How could I get control over this shit? I thought as I shook my head and made my way closer to her.

Picking her up, I carried her to the bathroom. Turning the water on, I then stripped her out of her clothes. Slowly placing her in the tub, I grabbed her bath soap, sponge, and began to clean her up, each gentle touch caused her to flinch.

Did a nigga feel bad about doing this shit? Yes. But it was like I couldn't control myself even when I tried to.

My father had honestly damaged me, and I blame him for the way that I act. Yes, maybe something was wrong with me as a child, which is why my ass stayed in trouble, but he didn't help the situation by beating my ass.

Hearing Monique let out a moan from the pain, I shook those thoughts away and focused my attention back on her.

Now that I was done cleaning her up, wrapping her up in a towel, I picked her up bridal style and carried her to our junky room. Laying her down on our bed, I searched in my drawer to find her one of my t-shirts. Placing it over her head, it swelled her body as she laid there. Looking around at the mess before me, I decided to clean it up a bit. After I was done, I headed into the kitchen to grab Monique a bottle of water, then went into the medicine cabinet in our bedroom restroom to get some pain pills. Maybe it would help Monique with the pain that I knew she was feeling.

Walking back in the room, Monique was laying in the bed on her side, she was balled up, with her knees up to her chest, and her arms wrapped around her legs as she shook crazily, like she was out in a snow storm in nothing but the t-shirt I had on her.

Sitting on side of the bed, I watched as Monique put her arms up trying to shield herself from me as if I was about to hit her again. Man, how could I change this shit? The girl that used to look at me with a sparkle in her eye was now scared of me.

Twisting the cap off the medicine and the bottle of water, I placed two pills in my hand. "Here Mo, take these, it will help with the pain."

Extending my hand, I attempted to give her the pills and water, but Monique just laid there like a nigga wasn't trying to help her and try to make things a little better. I knew what I had done was messed up on all accords. Wanting to get pissed off, I tried one more time, and it was still the same shit.

Placing the bottle of water down on the nightstand, I rubbed my hands down my face. "Man Mo, come on, take these for me, please."

Yet again, she didn't budge or say shit, and since she didn't want to take them, then why should I give a fuck?

"Fuck this shit!" I yelled out as I chucked the pills at her and knocked the bottle of water off of the night stand. Since she didn't want my help, I was done trying to give it to her. Taking one last look at Monique, I shook my head and headed out the door. I wasn't about to kiss her ass; I don't give a fuck if I am the one in the wrong.

Leaving out the room, I slammed the door, went into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of liquor off of the bar, and headed out the door.

Jumping in my black Lexus, I turned my music up sky high and backed up out of the drive way . I didn't have a certain destination, but I had to clear my head.

I ended up pulling up to my mom's house. I knew that she could calm me down. If she knew that I was putting my hands on a woman how my father did the both of us, I think she would put a bullet in my ass just like she did him. I know for a fact she wouldn't mind burying her only child for that type of disrespect.

Taking out my key, I unlocked her door to find her sitting on the sofa watching Fatal Attraction. She was always into crazy ass shows like this, and I hated it. What woman watches shit like this?

"Hey, mom," I said dryly as I walked to her bar to make me a drink of whatever stiff she had available, forgetting that I had my own in the car.

"Hey, baby. What's up with you? I know something has to be bothering you if you over here drinking my liquor and interrupting my show," she said jokingly, but I knew deep down she was serious and knew me very well.

"Man, mom, there's some shit that is taking control over me, and I don't know how to fix it. I know if I don't change soon, that Monique will leave me, and I can't have that," I pleaded.

"Son, look, if you love her like you say you do, then you'll do what it takes to fix things. Don't think I don't hear the shit you are out here doing. I understand the life you were dealt as a child, but you should want to be better than your father, and sadly, you are turning right into that damn man." Taking a puff out of her cigarette, I watched as my mom's eyes got glossy, but she never let a tear fall.

"I remember the pain that we both went through, and I wouldn't wish that on anybody, but here I am inflicting the same pain on the girl that I love."

My mom was right, and I couldn't argue with her about nothing she had said. Did it have some type of effect on me? Hell yeah, because the last person I wanted to be like or turn into was my father.