Sam's POV

I'm chilling at the hospital with Nik, Smythe and Dre playing a hand of Spades just kicking it, the most at ease I've felt in awhile.
Nik's in high spirits because we found out that the day after tomorrow she can finally come home.
I put her on leave from work, Smythe immediately agreed when I broached the topic, and besides, we have Daze to keep that side of things running smoothly until at least the Beanies got here.
It's only a week till Christmas, and I been pulling all types of crazy overtime trying to make sure my surprises for Nik still come into play.

First, even though I know she didn't expect it, we were still going to that concert she got tickets, and backstage passes for.

I'm looking forward to it so much too!

I'm gonna have to make sure she stays within my embrace the entire time, and that's more a pleasure than a duty.
The seats she got were VIP passes, only ten people in total would be in that Sky Box.
She really had gone all out for me with those tickets!
She knew I really didn't like crowds, so she spent extra to be sure that we'd be in comfort and luxury.
That works because if it hadn't been the location it was, we wouldn't be going.
I wasn't about to take any type of chances with her being jostled, her poor ribs were still tender.
Concerts in general, especially hip hop, could get rowdy.

I had, while she slept, taken her measurements.
I had gone to a dressmaker to get her a custom made fit for the night, in silver and black, to match with mine, of course.
I got her lil black ballet flats, even though I know she loved sexy heels and I did too, but she was coming up on being 6 months pregnant with my twins, and a klutz on top of that.
Take no chance!
That's become my motto!

I'm throwing her a surprise baby shower, while me and my boys have a card party in the adjoining room of the hall I rented.
I can't leave her outta my sight and I'm hyper vigilant.
The entire thing will be catered, and it's a huge secret from her just like our engagement had been.

I also know what the twins are going to be, I broke down at one of her bedside ultrasounds and asked the tech to tell me, but to keep it from my girl.
I had their nursery done already in colors that would compliment the decor and what they would be.
I have a lock on that door so she wouldn't peep in and ruin the surprise.
Don't ask me what they are, I'm not telling y'all neither!

We looking at a scheduled C-section in a matter of months now, mid to late February, because of the diabetes and the fact that twins are usually born around 36 weeks.
It seemed close yet so far away at the same time.
She's carrying them nice too by the way, she still got her shape, except with the bump.
Sometimes while she sleeps I can see them rolling and moving.
The other day, I swear one of them attempted to give me a high five!
Looked like the baby's hand was gonna come right outta her skin.
She slept through that, although I ain't sure how she did.

There was the sound of a knock and we all looked to the doorway.
Cathy stood there, and Nik waved her in.
She came in and spoke to everyone, hugged Nik, and then asked to speak with me for a moment, out in the hallway.
She had this weird look in her eyes and I knew that whatever she was about to tell me I wouldn't like it.
This is Nik's momma, so how I'm supposed to tell her I don't wanna hear nothing?
It's prolly got to do with Nik, that means it's got to do with me, and I respect Cathy for trusting me with whatever.
I nodded my head wordlessly, stepped in the hall.
She followed behind me and said "Son, I got a call a few hours ago from my daughter's old landlord. He knows this is a bad time, but he wants to know what the plan is for the things she left behind."
I quietly debated with myself and decided to just go on and ask Nik.
She really hated when I didn't include her in decisions concerning her, us actually.
I was always on her to let me in on her decisions, and this really boiled down to a matter of me, respecting my girl.
I knew, if she made this type of decision without including me, I'd be mad.
The type of mad that would include a restriction and the silent treatment,
so I wasn't about to do it to her.
I nodded my head at Cathy, thanked her for the information and then went to discuss it with Nik.

Nik's POV

As Sam re-enters my room I see him nod at the door after locking eyes with Smythe and then Dre.
Whatever he has to say, he wasn't going to say in front of them.
Ok, this can't be good.
After they left the room, he sat down on my bed, facing me.
He said, "Mr. Grandinez called Mom, wants to know what you wanna do with all your stuff, and when you can come to do something with it." He continued on, before I could say anything, "I'mma tell you right now, I don't want you nowhere near there. Alright? Not now, or ever!
If you need closure, I can understand that, but you go with me, or not at all!"
He folded his arms in a pose I have come to dub his, "and that's my word!" stance.
Whenever he crossed his arms in that manner, and got that determined glint in his eyes, there was seldom any chance I'd be able to change his mind.
Well he didn't have to worry about that! And then, I had another panic attack.
My breathing hitched, my heart thumped painfully in my chest, I broke out in a cold sweat, and I started shaking involuntarily, and tears crowded my vision.

Every thing I own in that apartment, are tainted with horrific memories.
How could I decide to bring any of it into this new phase of my life?
If I did, would I then have flashbacks whenever I sat on the couch I'd been choked out on?
The area rug in front of it, that I'd bled all over, did I want that?
How about the table Tris had flung over, when I had a full dinner set out on it, because I forgot to put his hot sauce within reach?
What about the bed that more often than not he'd violated me on?
The clothing I had worn was of no use to me now, Sam would never let me wear any of it anyways.
It was all too tight, too sexy, too Nikki!
That me I'd become, to get through what I had been through, she returned to some deep dark place inside me.
All my soaps and shampoos I'd used then, I already switched out, chose different, new favorites, because whenever I smelled any scent that reminded me of Tris, I got violently ill.

Every. Damn. Time!

I swiped impatiently at the tears in my vision, and finally met Sam's gaze, which actually looked to me like he was near to tears himself!

I have to get ahold of myself and boss up!
Who was this pathetic, weepy bitch anyway?
Where in the hell was my heart and grit?
I think that Tris stomped it outta me.
Am I really going to allow him to break me?
I can't escape him, his scars are on my skin, he's in my memories and in my nightmares.
I know Sam would never touch me in violence, yet I flinch from him.
The other night, I was coming out of the bathroom, thinking I was alone. Sam was away, had gone to get Dre.
I didn't hear his return, and when he came up behind me and touched my shoulder, I screamed in terror, and then karate chopped him in the throat.
I fell to the floor sobbing when I saw that I had just hit my man.
Sam scooped me up like I weighed nothing, carried me to bed and laid there with me until my shudders and tears subsided.
Telling me it was okay, that he's got me.
I'm afraid.
No, I'm more than that, I'm terrified.
I'm weak.
It breaks me the rest of the way down and I allow just one tear to fall before I reign in on my emotions and look Sam square in the eye.
"I don't want anything out of that fucking place, well no, nothing but my grans quilt!
There's nothing there, except for that, that means shit to me! Burn it all!! Trash it! I don't give a fuck!"
The raw, gutter like language, is something I seldom use, but in this moment it helps me to spew obscenities.
I considered a moment and then inspiration came to me.
I had some designer gear, beautiful furniture, china and stemware, jewelery worth a small fortune, other things that would now just go to a landfill, or be incinerated.
That isn't sitting right with me, so I reconsider and tell my man, 'No! Wait! I would like the contents in their entirety, to be donated a Protection from abuse, Domestic Violence, Women and Children's Shelter.
I know I've made the right choice, because I suddenly feel lighter and better inside, not so conflicted.
He nods once and says, "Consider it done!"
He leans towards me, kisses my forehead, wraps me up in his arms and holds me. I breathe in deeply, Grey Flannel, Zest soap and something I don't have a name for, his own unique scent, surrounds me, comforts me.
I am immediately soothed.

After calling the Salvation Army Women and Children's Shelter to make the necessary arrangements, which they are thrilled to hear that this sizable donation is being given, he rounds up Smythe and Dre, kisses me soundly and leaves, telling me he'll be back as soon as humanly possible.

I visit with my mom while he's gone. Its very seldom that there isn't someone with me at my bedside.
I appreciate the effort, because whenever I'm alone, the flashbacks invade.
I have not been diagnosed formally as of yet, but I know I must have acquired P.T.S.D and generalized anxiety.
I look and feel as though I have been through a hard fought battle, and I have!
I decide then, to refuse to continually allow myself to be a casualty of this war any longer!
I'm not going to let my own personal demon rob me of my sanity, my sense of security, of MYSELF any longer!
As soon as I'm released from here in a few days time, I'm going to seek professional help.
The look I saw in Sam's eyes, when I had that anxiety attack, I never want to see it again.

It's time to heal, get back to the business of life, no matter how long it takes.

Sam's POV

I gather my brother, my good homie Dre, and we set out to meet with the truck that's coming to pick up the donated items.
We don't wait long after ringing the doorbell at my girl's former abode before gaining entrance.
After some small talk with the old man, I notice the truck has pulled up, the driver waiting out front.
I'm given the keys.
I let us in.
The whole place creeps me out.

I'm packing her dresser and closets when I come across a photo album. Curious, I flip through it, seeing a whole lot of her growing up years before we met.
I grin, and turn the pages slowly.
There she is at around five or six, graduating kindergarten.
I see a shot of her at about eight, front teeth missing, in a tiara and tutu, waving a pink shimmery plastic wand over her stuffed animals.
A tea party follows, then a bunch of pics of her birthdays.
Her smile is infectious in all of them.
I stifle a laugh, as I watch her go from a cute kid, to the beautiful girl she became.
Pictures of her and Cathy, her siblings, her friends throughout the years.
Ah, here's her and Fancee when they're in their teens, her dressed in her high school graduation finery, her eyes holding happiness, her hands a diploma.
Still another, this a candid shot with her arm around a slender, dark haired girl.
I know is Kim, her very best friend, who's now enlisted in the Navy.
There's pictures of Melissa, and Fancee, one of the three of them,right before we met, dressed to the nines.
This is the picture I'd seen of her, that made me want to meet her.
I come across a picture of who must be her Gran.
I always thought she favored Cathy, but the resemblance she has to her Gran is uncanny.
Same dark brown, curly hair, as close to being ebony as she can get.
Same high cheekbones, deep dimples.
The only thing that's not copied exactly is the eyes.
Her Grans are almost my color, a dark obsidian.
She'll definitely want these pics.

The last picture is him.
Tristan Wright.
He must have taken this himself, and placed it in the book without her knowing, so that when she went through the happy memories contained in it, the last would make her sad.
There's something seriously wrong with this dude.

He's looking directly at the camera, a sinister look on his countenance.
She's looking forward too, I can see fear in her eyes.
I look closer, unbelieving what I see. She has a black eye, and her lip looks fat.
This muthafucka snapped a Polaroid of his violence.

I snatch the picture from the book and I'm shaking with rage, my temper at a level I didn't know I possessed.
I actually can feel my blood pressure shoot up, and there's a roar building inside me.

I must have made some noise, because all of a sudden my brother is next to me, prying the photo from my grasp.
He looks at it and says, "Oh! THIS is him huh?"
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

Dre winds up in the closet with us and it's getting tight with the three of us crowded into it.
He peers over Smythe's shoulder and I hear him say on a sharp intake of breath, "Yo, this the dude ya girl hooked up with when y'all was broke up?"
I nodded my assent, and feel a sickening wave of nausea invade.
He says disgustedly, "Why you calling him by that name though? This fools name is Cornell!"
I bug my eyes out, saying loudly, "You know him? How?"
He looks at me, and for a moment, I can see the stone cold, remorseless killer that he is surge to the forefront.
"Hell yeah, I know that muthafucka, this is him, he killed my baby brother, my brother's girl and they unborn. I was booked when that happened! If I was home, I'da been murked his ass" he curled his upper lip, finishing his thought, saying, "Dude is a nutcase, he had a thing with Deacon's girl before he got with her.
She told my family he used to beat her up and she ran away from him. Thought she'd escaped him.
He hunted her down, found out she was pregnant, had apparently convinced himself it was his seed.
When he found her, he beat her to death, came for my brother and murdered him. The entire Blood Nation been looking for him, scouring the whole West Coast!
Here he ran like the bitch ass ninja he is, all the way across the map, to land here! What are the fucking odds that us meeting all them years ago would lead me to his killer?
I remembered all too clearly that Dre was the one who had needed some guidance that time and I'd mourned with him, even though I didn't even know his brother, I do have six brothers of my own!
If anyone ever had dared to touch one of mines, well, I ain't gonna incriminate myself here and go into details, but I'm sure by now, y'all don't need me to say shit. Y'all know how ride for mines!

All of a sudden we hear the report of gunfire and the three of us all try to leave the closet at the same damn time.
That must have looked comical I'm sure, but whatever had just gone down wasn't!
We all stopped, each trying to be mannerly and allow the other to go first, which further delayed us.
Finally I said, "oh for fucks sake!" and squeezed my way past making it to the front door leading to the hall, the boahs right behind me.
We raced down the steps, sounding like a herd of elephants, just in time to see Mr. Grandinez fall out the door to his apartment, a red stain growing rapidly on his work shirt, clearly grievously injured!

The street door was still swinging shut, I looked out with caution, my weapon already in my hand.
I only saw a late model, dark colored, tricked out caddy skirt out to the avenue, accelerate and dissapear into the gathering darkness.

Spurned into action, Smythe ran into the crib, grabbed a towel off the rack in the bathroom area, sped back.
He drops to the prone man's form and applies pressure, while Dre calls the authorities. I hear him say there's been shots fired and there's a man down.
It surreal. We sound and act like we're in a movie, but this here, is as real as it gets!

We all are felons, none of us can legitimately conceal or carry.
Fuck!
Cluster fuckin fuck!
Dre thinks fast, snatches the security tape from the VCR. This that old school set up.
Without a word we hand over our pistols, I toss him my keys, he runs out the back door, hops the alley fence and disappears within a minute of disconnecting the camera mounted above the door.
Smythe goes out to tell the Salvation Army driver that there's been a complication, and I later learn he slides him a knot to pretend he saw nothing, except an unknown person enter the dwelling some time after we had arrived and began bringing out furniture.
Half the van is packed already.

I take over holding pressure on the old man's chest, telling him to hold on and don't you dare die on me now.
He's still cognizant, and I see the realness in his gaze that I saw before when I was here.
He'd protected my identity then, never even letting on I existed to the
police, or the Detectives who came after, the Johnny come lately's is what I call them.
I could only hope he could hang on to the tenuous thread he was clinging to, and clear me and my brother of any wrongdoing.

Otherwise, we'd be headed to The Roundhouse, suspected of murder in the first degree and held without a chance of bail.

Smythe was a two time offender, under the three strikes law he would face a mandatory life sentence.

We would just have to pray to our higher power that our actions wouldn't turn around and spite us.