I was sitting on the hood of my car, waiting for Bob to show up. I hope I wasn't setting myself up, but listening to Joel Olsten from satellite radio did a number on me. He was a celebrity pastor, talking about things that I could relate to.

About forgiveness.

It was after 9 pm.

Headlights were behind me.

A Nissan Rogue parked beside my car.

Quietly, my Jordan River got out of the Nissan, empathy, remorse and vulnerability colored his eyes and body language.

Jumping off the car, I was pushing him, punching him in the chest, spitting at him. Letting my anger out full throttle.

He stuck his chest out, taking every punch and splash of spit in his face.

"You took my baby away from me, nigga. You killed my husband and got off. And that manipulative bitch helped you."

I tired myself out hitting a mountain of a man. I was only six foot two inches tall.

"You took my baby away from me," Bob retorted. "I was in love with you and didn't know how to express it. I was on the low, low. I wanted you to commit to me in the darkness, behind everybody's back. If only you would have agreed, I would have left my wife to be with you. But you wanted that out the closet fantasy."

"The one you're living now? Because you were outed before millions of people on the news. Caught out there. Finally living your truth."

"I'm asking you to forgive me. I'm deeply sorry for attempting to kill you, and for taking your husband's life. There's no way I can survive doing life without in prison. Lynn made a proposition and I played along until the charges were dropped. I don't expect you to understand, and if you don't forgive me it's cool. In the eyes of God I did my part."

"Oh. Shit. He's one of them now. You're born again, Bob. That's what you're gonna say next. Biblical nigga?"

"Yes, I've found the Lord, but I don't go to church every Sunday. But I do pray every single day. For God to forgive me for taking a life, to forgive me for wanting you to hurt the way you hurt me and for causing you pain."

"I forgive you."

Another pair of headlights beamed on us.

Marcus cut the engine and walked over to me.

"You OK, Harry? This clown isn't upsetting you, is he? I'm good at taking out the trash," Marcus said sternly, getting in Bob's face. "That's what a real man does...get rid of baggage. Trash. Toss it out with the non-recyclables."

"Marcus, thanks for having my back, but it's cool. I can handle Bob. He wants me to forgive him and I do and I forgive myself. I don't believe a word he said. But I forgive and forget him. I will live my life forcing myself to forget that he ever existed."

Bob was hurt. Destroyed, he said, "So you throw my shame and my apology back in my face?"

"It depends, bum. Does it hurt as much as killing my husband?"

"You said that you forgave a nigga. You don't keep your word anymore?"

"I forgave, but I don't forget, Bob. Get over it. It's not that easy. At least I did. I still detest the air you breathe."

"Harry, get in your car and go home. I'll follow you. Don't waste your time with this fool."

"I'm getting tired of your ass. Captain Save a Hoe so you can fuck him in that sweet ass."

"I knew you weren't sincere, Bob. I knew it", I said, clearly not surprised by his childish antics.

"Marcus. Chew on this. After Harry was released from jail I gave him a ride home. He cried on my shoulder after he offered me a glass of sweet red wine. We polished the entire bottle and Harry took me into his mouth, giving me some sloppy head."

"You're lying," I said, but the drunken memories came flooding back.

"You want to beat a nigga with iron chairs and talk shit to daddy!" Bob commanded, fucking me long, hard and deep.

He crushed up a Molly in the wine.

He pounded my ass to white creamy bliss all night long.

He left before the break of dawn.

I woke up with a sore hole and planned my husband's funeral.

"You took advantage of me, nigga. That's what I get for giving you a chance. I'm getting a restraining order against you. Stay the fuck away, don't return to group. In fact I'm dropping your enrollment."

"Once a messy sissy, always a messy sissy. Oh, well. The ass was good while it lasted."

Marcus upper cut Bob in the chin. Laying him out, cold.

"Get in your car, Harry. I'll follow you home."

I pulled into my driveway and cut the engine.

Marcus parked beside me.

He rolled the window down. "Go on inside. I'll catch up to you later."

"You're not coming inside? I kind of don't want to be alone tonight. I just don't feel safe."

"I'll pass, sexy. I'm sorry for being so forward. I have feelings for you and it's too soon for that. You're dealing with the weight of the world. If I come inside I'm not going to pull out. I want to make love to you, so I'm going straight home. Go inside. I'll sit right here until you safely lock up.

"OK. Thank you for being a friend. Sorry for throwing your gift in the trash."

He handed it to me. "Open it once you go inside."

"Thanks again."

I unlocked my door and went inside, closing and locking it.

My heart dropped when he drove off.

Holding a framed picture of my husband, I cried myself to sleep.

Marcus gift was on my nightstand...

I was in a deep sleep.

I dreamed that Bob Grimes was trying to kill me. I found it hard to breathe.

The room was dark.

Opening my eyes, Bob tightened his hands around my neck, choking me while he grunted, fucking me long, hard and deep without using protection.

I was terrified.

How had he gotten into my house?

I tried to scream, but he punched me in the back of the head. "You're going to die, bitch. I hate you. I'm getting this ass one more time before I choke you to death."

I forced myself to go numb, but he felt so good. He hit all the right spots.

I was dead anyway, so if I was going to suffer the true death at least I'll be in pleasure.

Marcus whisked Bob off me, his dick sliding out of my ass.

I started coughing, holding my neck, in tears. Fearing my life.

Grunting, Bob pulled out a gun, aimed at me...

Bob, noooo!

Marcus shot him dead...