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[Riley]

Are you sure that you're okay?

The mindless question was one I had been asked several times and one I now had to ask myself thanks to the scrutiny Tate had me under for only God knows how long now. Did it look like I was okay? Alright? In my right mind? Hell no. I was lost somewhere in lala-land, unable to process what exactly was happening at the moment, and almost everything in my vision was a distortion of images and colors while every sound echoing around me was muffled. My thoughts were twisted in a maze, suffocating the other the more they had the nerve to form themselves and dare me to overthink.

Nothing about me was present. Though I was physically existing, my rationale was missing and my emotions were singlehandedly compiling themselves into a cluster of shit. Nothing was functioning normally, and once a sudden flush of heat consumed my body I was reminded of what this all was. After countless weeks of living without that heavy feeling in my chest, that tightening in my throat and just simply being relieved of the idea that I had no control over my life, I almost forgot what anxiety felt like. I almost forgot what it felt like to worry and not have the will power to cease it; all due to something that was completely out of my control. Every second reality tried to set in and my brain blocked it's attempt, I found myself losing it.

I was so far gone.

The only thing a part of my body that had some sense of direction were my feet. They were pulling me in and out the bathroom, from my closet to my dresser and every other place I assumed I needed to be. I had showered not even realizing I was in there longer than usual, probably trying to drown myself out of this current state into another, and now I was yanking out an assortment of sweatpants, t-shirts and somehow pajamas got into the mix. I wasn't sure what I was looking for or why I hadn't already robed myself in one of the other dozens of clothing scattered on the floor and made my way out of the front door. I should've ran out of here the moment my phone rang and I found myself hopping off of Tate's lap. Instead I was literally moving in a circle, back and forth, around and around until my body started to faint itself.

"Riley?"

"What?!" I yelled, immediately regretting my tone the instant it slipped from my lips. "I'm sorry, I-I'm just really...I'm just real—"

"I know." Tate cut in as I angrily tossed the pair of shorts in my hand aside and leaned over onto the dresser top. The minute he gave for me to merely breathe along with the soft touch of his hand on my lower back was helping soothe me, but temporarily of course. I was bound to panic at a minimum of twice before this night was over and morning was here; I couldn't doubt that. 

"How about you just relax, alright? Then we can get you in those black pants laying across your bed, I'll grab a hoodie from your closet and some of those funny looking boots you wear to the store sometime. How does that sound?"

"Are you referring to my UGGs?" I questioned, peering up at him from the corner of my eye, making it the second action out of many tonight I would regret doing. That quick glance had awakened a dizzy spell that tag teamed my senses along with these other symptoms I was once so used to.

"Is that what they're called?"

"Yes," I replied, chuckling faintly to myself as my eye lids shut firmly. "I just need a minute. I just, I need to know that he's okay. He is okay, right? He is okay."

"Riley, calm down. I'm sure your cousin is fine." Right, Damon...my cousin.

"Who the hell are we fooling? I mean if he were fine he wouldn't be inside an emergency room at...what even is the fucking time?" With the raise of my voice, Tate's hand immediately slid from my back and I assumed he was now searching for an answer that would settle this mounting cloud of tension. Especially since it would prompt an argument between the two of us if he didn't. With some inhaling and a few exhales out, I was able to slowly open my eyes and see a clearer view of the walls and rest of the room that was previously a blur. By then Tate's effort fused with mine was doing some justice, but just like before not enough.

"It's a little bit after ten."

"Exactly. He's laying in some shabby hospital bed this late at night, but he's fine, you say?" I shot back snidely. "Hand me those black pants and sweatshirt so we can go. Can we just go, please?" I pleaded weakly. He didn't hesitate taking my orders, and after another few minutes I was finally dressed and pitching my charger, wallet and phone into the bottom of my crossbody bag.

All that was left was to grab that orange prescription bottle from the medicine cabinet and swallow a few pills that would put me out of my misery. I couldn't find them though and the patience needed to keep looking for them was something I didn't have.

"Looking for these?" Tate stood in the doorway of the bathroom with the familiar bottle between his fingers. A sigh of relief being the only form of a 'thank you' I could get out.

"I got you, Ry." he assured as he placed the bottle in my hand along with a bottle of water.

The way he was easily trying to comfort me all while literally guiding me out to the car for our trip to the hospital was admirable, and though I wasn't expressing it, appreciated. This incident had sprang up on both of us unexpectedly just as this anxiety attack following it, yet Tate wasn't looking for the nearest exit to escape. Nothing about his efforts said he didn't want to be bothered and was ready to leave me high in dry. This man was rolling with the punches, dodging my verbal jabs and handling the pressure of only a glimpse of what my life was like before he came along.

It only took one negative stressor to trigger me, one that could possibly end similar to the initial matter that started my history of these attacks. The last time I was in a hospital my mother was rushing toward me with tears concealing her eyes, her weeping increasing the closer she got to me and realized she had to tell her only child that their father was gone. I however knew before she could utter it, and it was then when I fell to the ground and my body convulsed so unusually, nothing like I ever experienced nor witnessed was when I was sure I couldn't manage situations of this kind. I realized I may not have been built to accept death, or that I couldn't handle knowing that someone I loved was hurt to an extreme and that I couldn't help them in that time of need.

Now here Damon was somewhere in a curtain enclosed room by himself and I had not the slightest clue of his condition. That alone, the phone call I received about his whereabouts, and a short voicemail just prior to it had me frantically walking through the emergency room doors preparing for the worse.

This was not going to be my night. Just seeing Melanie sitting in the waiting room appearing to be battered and very distant from an exhausted Mike and Ib was the first sign of it.

"Before you start..." Ib began once he lifted his head from his hands and our eyes met. "Just compose yourself for a minute, I ca—"

"Can one of you tell me what the hell is going on?" I wondered, snipping his implore short. His eyes then left mine and trailed over to Mike who just like Ib looked hesitant to spill any type of information. "Yes or no?"

"Uh, maybe we should both talk to her and somewhere else." Mike suggested as he stood up from his seat. His solemn attitude caught me off guard. Even in the most serious cases, Mike found humor and he found a way to bring light to a situation. At this moment none of that nor a smirk was exerted.

Once Ib followed suit with the same grave expression, both men then waited but their attention was now far from me. Their focus was on Tate and the hand he gently placed on my lower back as he always does, once I turned around to inform him I'd be back in a few

"I'm over here if you need me." he said, nodding toward a set of empty seats.

"She'll be good, bruh."

"Mike, why are you being rude?" I grilled, spinning around to dissolve any conflict before it started. "Bring your black ass on." I asserted before grabbing his wrist and Ib's, pulling them both away toward an empty hallway of vending machines.

"Why you bring that nigga here anyways? We don't know him." Ib blurted as he snatched his arm away from my grip and crossed both across his chest. Mike had the nerve to stand aside him once we all came to a halt, and held the same stance and frown on his face.

"Ibrahim, shut up. You two can stop being ridiculous right now and tell me what is going on? Where is Damon and why the hell did I get a voicemail prior to the call about him saying Lamarr was in an accident?"

"They called you?" Mike asked as he raised his brow then slid his arms from his chest.

"Yeah," I sighed, lowering my voice once the statement began making sense to me. "Apparently I'm one of his in case of emergency numbers but when they called, I- I kind of missed it. Then they called again but that time it was for Damon. Now I'm here for both of them, I suppose, and I have a bad feeling in my gut that them both being here is connected to each other. If you all know just tell me, please. I've been freaking out since I got both calls."

"They called you?" Mike repeated. "This nigga got you as an emergency number but not us? I feel some kind of way." 

"My god, shut up! Is he okay? Are they okay?"

"We actually don't know," Ib stated lowly as he shook his head. "We got no word on Lamarr yet, not sure if they'll give us much anyways if we even asked. O is..." He stopped himself before he could barely even start and glanced over at Mike. What was up with these looks?

"Damon is what? Dead?"

"Nah, nothing like that." he insisted. "Shit, Mike should probably tell you everything from here on now. He knows a bit more than I do."

"Well can someone tell me something? You all are talking in circles right now and I'm a bit tired of the stalling."

"Look, just chill." Mike murmured. "I brought O to the hospital and he's probably better off than Lamarr is. He was just a little knotted up and from the looks of the way I struggled getting him off the floor, he probably has a few broken ribs but that's it."

"That's it?" I questioned, not being very convinced.

"Well physically, yeah. He was at Lamarr's crib when I went to pick up Melanie. She called me frantic as hell saying Ms. Kay called and needed her to get to the hospital asap because Lamarr was in a accident. When I got there she was still crying and rambling about how this all was her fault and that if she would have just walked away years ago none of this would have happened. Once I got her to calm down she admitted to getting into an argument with Lamarr that had something to do with O. Lamarr went off, whooped his ass while destroying the entire studio in their crib, then stormed out. O just stayed there, but he couldn't really move himself anyways."

An argument about what? 

One by one the number of odds were coming to mind, making my head spin once again. I could just see it now, Lamarr being enraged and not thinking reasonably. I could see him arguing with Melanie about the small details I shared with him: the confrontation she and I had, the baby she lied about. I could see him feeling the same way I felt when I realized because of her, my life turned out one way when there was a chance it should have been another. Neither Lamarr or I would ever know what that facet of our lives would be like, we would never be able to experience it naturally as we once had liked to, and it was all due to her.

I could see it all, but I just didn't understand what Damon had to do with any of it. I hadn't pieced him into this. I honestly didn't want to consider why he was tied to all of this mess or why Lamarr felt the need to put his bare hands on him. But common sense wouldn't allow that, and now the facts were drawing me to several conclusions.

"Uhm, would you happen to know what he had to do with their argument? And Mike, don't you dare look over at Ib and Ib look at me. I am tired of feeling left out," I stressed. "What else is there to this?"

"You need to let Lamarr tell you that, Ry. She never even gave me the full story." 

"Sure she didn't, of course! And let him tell me? Right, when he might be the one who is actually dead." I scoffed as I marched away, leaving them both behind. I could hear Ib shouting my name, his voice slowly becoming hushed the further I became. My hand began to fumble with the zipper of my bag all in effort to get to those few milligrams and water I should have ingested the second Tate gave them to me.

As much as I wanted to check on Damon and ask about Lamarr, I just didn't have it in me to do either. If I pressured myself to do too much at this minute, I'd be in a hospital bed myself. So for now I would just sit, breathe in and out and swallow a chill pill.

                                                   -------———

"Here, I got you some food." Tate announced as he stood over me with a brown McDonald's bag and a cup of what I hoped to be Sprite in each hand. Both in clear sight was enough for me to draw my eyes from the wall I managed to stare down for what I'm sure was for an hour or more now.

"Thanks," I mumbled, taking them from his grip as he sat across from me. "What'd you get?"

"I hate buying food from them but since it was one of the only places open, if not the only, I just got a grilled chicken sandwich meal and a lemonade."

"A lemonade works."

"Oh I forgot, you like Sprite."

"Yeah but this is fine. I'm just very parched and starving so anything will work. Flavor doesn't matter. Thanks again."

"It's no problem. Have you gotten any word on your cousin or Lamarr?"

"Well, Damon is fine. They said he can actually leave so I think Ib or Mike are finding him a ride to his place." Tate's brow perked up, and as he sat back into his chair his lips fell open as he prepared himself to say something. From the looks of it, he was contemplating. Wasn't everyone doing that with me this evening?

"Why won't you take him? I can give you my car keys."

"I actually don't want to see him right now. I'm liable to break another one of his ribs or fuck up his jaw more than it already is." A chuckle escaped my lips at the mere thought. I was positive I would smack Damon and several times if he disclosed any of what I had begun assuming about what happened tonight. It was just best I let him be until I got the facts and at a time where I wasn't so tense.

"Well that reason is justified, I guess. So we'll just let him get home some other way. You'll talk to him eventually, right?"

"Yeah, sure." I agreed dismissively with a playful roll of my eyes. We both shared a laugh, something that was needed right about now but it didn't last long when I spotted Melanie getting up from the seat she had nailed herself to since I assume she got here.

She had remained silent, losing herself in whatever had been holding her attention every time her eyes wandered around the waiting room. From the walls, chairs, and others coming in, Melanie looked at everyone and everything but me. The best thing about her finally getting up and the subtle pact I had just made with Tate was that I could follow her to the restroom she had just walked inside, and the agreement didn't apply to her. I was ready to talk to her now and I doubt I'd be nice about anything.

"I'll be back. My hands have touched every dirty nob and handle in this place and I refuse to eat with them. Watch my food?"

"Of course and eat some of your fries too." he teased, smirking up at me as I rose from my chair.

"You'll end up missing some fingers if you do." I pointed out as I strayed away and down to the restroom Melanie had disappeared in.

Be classy. Be the bigger person. Be... 

It was far too late for the mental pep talks. I was far from seeking to be any of those. Not when I was determined to trap this woman in a restroom as she had done to me and harass her until I got my point across. I could have cared less if I was wrong for my behavior or for what only God knows would come out of my mouth. I had spent years doing just that, being classy, mindful, and the bigger person when she hadn't. I was officially over that.

The door was closed, the lock snapped into place and once I turned around Melanie was lifting her head up from the bowed position she hung it, and kept her hands palmed to the edge of the sink. Her eyes were still drenched and heavy from all the sulking she had done, and her hair was thrown around her head, not one strand in a uniform place. Through the mirror we both gazed at each other for a few unyielding seconds, mine being more of a glare, before one of us finally caved in and spoke up.

"How are you feeling?" she snickered lowly at my bogus concern regarding her well-being as a smirk curved along her lips.

"As if you really care."

"Is it that obvious?" I mocked, titling my head while returning the exact same smirk.

"Cut the shit Riley. What is it that you want? Make me feel worse than I already do? Beat my ass? What? You tell me."

"Actually I'd like to do all the above, but for the sake and out of the respect for my friend who is laid out somewhere in this hospital, I'll keep it PG. For starters though, I really really want to wipe this filthy floor with your face right now."

"There it is. Let it all out." she slurred as she turned around and leaned against the sink.

"You have to shut up for me to do it first," I sassed back. "You've got a lot of damn nerve acting as if anyone should give a damn about how you feel right now. You sat in that waiting room, randomly sobbing and taking advantage of Mike and Ib who are just as beat as you are, and it's all because you don't know how to love yourself. This is because of you, Melanie. You!" I stated, pointing my finger directly at her.  "This all could've been avoided if you loved yourself enough to realize that that man isn't worth enough to risk every single bit of your sanity, dignity and every other part of who you are. I don't know everything that went on in your relationship with Lamarr, and maybe it's not my place to tell you this,  but I'll say it anyway. He was not and is not worth it. He wasn't worth this outcome or anything you've sacrificed. Let me just make it clear that no man is worth this."

"Oh, so you're some Virgin Mary now? Some goody two shoes and know it all who has all the answers? Some guru who has all the deets on how to live better and maybe even keep a man? Wow, good for you."

"No, I'm none of those but what I am is someone who hates seeing other women in these positions because I know all too well how it feels. The moment you found me as some threat to your relationship, you should have confronted him. The—"

"Then what?" she stammered, and I could hear her voice waning as another round of waterworks threatened her eyes. "I wouldn't have been heartbroken? Let's face it, either way I would've gotten fucked over. He would have left me for you. Don't feel bad for me because you're the other woman. Feel bad because if you and him ever get a chance, you're next."

"Alright, see I was genuinely coming in here as a woman to keep it real, something the people you keep around you clearly aren't doing. Now it's fuck you. Don't toss any of this on me. At the end of the day, whatever was said in your argument with

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