Read Bad Apple - the Baddest Chick Online
Authors: Nisa Santiago
Tags: #Urban Fiction, #New York (N.Y.), #Fiction, #Urban Life, #Street Life, #Sisters, #African American, #General
He continued to stroke her. His touch went from her long hair to her slim neck, and then he touched the small of her back. “You know, you’re beautiful just like your sisters. I always liked your sisters. They’re somethin’ else. Are you like your sisters, Nichols?”
Nichols looked at him, not understanding his question.
Supreme slowly massaged the small of her back and pulled her closer. “I’m sorry my peoples had to rough you up like that. It was uncalled for. They’re like children; they just don’t know how to treat certain toys. They get excited and then play too rough. Did they hurt you?”
Nichols body tensed up from Supreme’s touch. Her insides hurt, her jaw was slightly swollen, and her anus felt raw and violated. She had endured one penetration after the other—no mercy had been shown to her in the past two days.
Supreme licked his lips as he slid his hand near her backside, which he was admiring. He lusted over how firm her breasts were. Even though she was a virgin just a few days ago, Supreme had no use for her pussy now. Not after his workers had run a train on her. He had a taste for something else.
While Nichols lay curled up near Supreme’s lap, he slowly began toying with her breasts. He felt Nichols cringe as his fingertips slowly kneaded her soft flesh.
“Please, no,” she uttered faintly.
“This is it for you, baby. I promise, after this, no more. They won’t touch you anymore,” he said.
He began unzipping his jeans while massaging Nichols’ tender thighs. He found pleasure in seeing the distress in the young girl’s face. Supreme then whipped out his dick, which was a magnificent size—long, heavy, and with the width of a steel pipe—then he gripped a handful of Nichols’ long hair and forced her face into his lap.
“Go ahead. Get yourself a taste.”
Nichols tried to resist, but she was no match for Supreme. She was weak and lethargic and only wanted to go home. Slowly, she complied.
As she felt Supreme’s immense penis stretch the muscles in her jaw, Nichols began to sob again.
Supreme gripped the back of her head and made her gag, forcing the tip of his dick down the back of her throat. He could feel her body shiver from fear.
“That’s right. Suck on daddy’s dick, baby,” Supreme uttered with delight as he grunted.
Nichols tried to please him for what seemed like forever. When he felt his eruption coming, he gripped Nichols’ hair tightly, held her face steady in place, and allowed his nut to brew as her lips were wrapped around the mushroom tip.
“I’m coming!”
He forced Nichols to deep-throat him again, gripping her neck securely, while his goons stood around idly. Each of them had already had their way with Nichols and was craving for one more turn with the sixteen-year-old. Once Supreme was done, they would be on her next like vultures on a rotten corpse.
Nichols burst into tears, gagging and vomiting up phlegm. Her jaw ached along with her whole body. She felt the burning around her neck, her eyes red with anguish, and her insides on fire from the pain. Her mind thought about death. Two days felt like two years, and the fatigue and abuse engulfed her like she was drowning.
As Supreme stood, the man he sent out for food returned, carrying a greasy plastic bag. He looked around the room and knew something had gone on without him.
“Damn! What I miss?” he questioned.
Supreme looked down at Nichols’ naked body. A smile loomed as he pictured Apple and Kola in her place. “Bitches wanna fuck wit’ me. They gonna regret that they ever tried to play me.”
“Supreme, you still want this for her?” his man asked, holding up the bag of food.
Supreme snatched the bag from his hand and glared down at Nichols. He then removed the Styrofoam container from the bag and opened it up. It was filled with greasy rice and chicken. The aroma of the meal hit him quickly and made his mouth water.
“You hungry, baby?” he asked Nichols.
She didn’t respond.
“I know I promised you a meal. Well, here it is.” Supreme laughed and began dumping the hot food out, and it poured down on her like a shower.
Guy Tony just looked on without saying one word. It was a fucked-up thing to see. Still, Supreme was his friend and mentor, so he minded his business and walked out the room, not being able to stomach any more.
“Eat up,” Supreme said with a smirk. “Cunt bitch!” Supreme exclaimed.
Nichols sobbed loudly. “Please . . . let me go! I wanna go home. I just wanna go home,” she cried out.
“Oh, you wanna go home, huh?” Supreme said. “Well, your sister gotta pay off her debt to me, bitch. You just interest, that’s fuckin’ all.”
Nichols lay motionless with the food scattered all around her. She closed her eyes and readied herself for the worst. She knew her chances of leaving there alive were very slim. She had seen all of their faces, and if they were brought to some kind of justice for their brutal crimes—rape, abuse, and kidnapping all being felonies—there was a good chance they would receive a life sentence from her testimony alone. If she knew the punishment for the crimes, they definitely knew as well. Being a smart girl, Nichols knew in her heart it was a chance they wouldn’t take.
Supreme crouched down near the whimpering Nichols, pulled back her matted hair from her face, and looked at her with his cold eyes. “Apple owes me, but now it goes deeper than a fuckin’ debt. You see, your sisters, they fuckin’ disrespectful bitches, and they need to be taught a fuckin’ lesson. But, to let you know, there was never any ransom. Nah, word gets out and it might start a war that I ain’t ready to get into. But I gotta be subtle wit’ my payback. They took money from me and don’t wanna pay it back, so now I’m gonna take somethin’ personal from them. Unfortunately, it gotta be you, love.” He nodded to his triggerman.
Nichols went into a hysterical panic. She cried out wildly, scampering across the ground and shouting, “Please! Don’t do this! I don’t wanna die! I don’t wanna die! No! No!”
Supreme’s triggerman approached Nichols with a .45 ready in his grip. He walked up to her as she tried to crawl to safety. He hunched over her, pressed the gun to the back of her head, and quickly fired two shots into her skull.
Bang! Bang!
Nichols lay sprawled out in death, crimson blood thickening around her skull. The room fell silent as each member in the room stared down at the dead sixteen-year-old girl. The triggerman looked at Supreme and nodded.
Guy Tony heard the two shots from outside the doorway where he stood. He closed his eyes and shook his head. He lit up a cigarette. There was no turning back now. He remembered the look in Apple’s eyes when she’d confronted him on the street the other day. It was a look he couldn’t forget. She was desperate, looking for any hope in his eyes, but he’d refused to show her any. He wondered how things had gotten out of hand so fast.
Supreme stepped out of the room and looked at Guy Tony. He lit up a cigarette and said to him, “Yo, go help them wit’ that mess.”
Reluctantly, Guy did as he was told. When he looked at the body, all he could do was shake his head. He knew killing Nichols would create a problem. Without a doubt, Kola wouldn’t let her death go unpunished.
CHAPTER 14
I
t was early morning on another hot summer day. Apple had fallen asleep for a few short hours on the living room couch still wearing the same clothes from the night before. A good night’s sleep was becoming a distant memory for her. She couldn’t think clearly, and sometimes she couldn’t sleep at all. If she wasn’t up all night worrying about her little sister, she was wandering out into the streets, hoping to find some information.
Now day three of Nichols’ disappearance, it seemed the police weren’t making the missing person case their priority. And Kola hadn’t made any progress at all. So the family’s hope of finding Nichols alive was fading, leaving everyone distraught.
Apple woke to police sirens blaring outside the window. She got up from the couch and looked around. The apartment was quiet and empty. After walking from room to room, she saw her mother passed out naked on her bed with an empty bottle of vodka on the nightstand. Drinking herself to death was Denise’s way of coping with the situation.
Apple sighed and closed the bedroom door. She went into the kitchen. It was messy as usual, with dishes piled up and roaches scampering around. She wiped the few tears from her eyes, thinking about how Nichols was the one always cleaning up and cooking. She realized that her family took Nichols for granted, and now with her gone, it was hurting Apple deeply.
When Apple heard more police sirens outside, she knew something had happened. She peered out the window and could see the strong police activity by the dumpster, located a few feet from where Cross and his crew hung out. She noticed they were sealing off the area with yellow tape. Her first thought was homicide—something common in her hood.
Apple watched the police in action. When they shut down the block, she knew it was something serious. She observed two detectives walking to the scene, and a small crowd began gathering behind the yellow tape and whispering among themselves.
Suddenly, Apple felt a sickness in the pit of her stomach, unexpectedly roused by a troubling thought. It was obvious they had found a body. She thought the worst, yet prayed that it wasn’t Nichols. Rushing from the window, she ran into her room to slip into something decent.
The crime scene on 132nd Street, across the street from the projects, was disturbing for most of the officers. They’d found the naked, battered body of a young teenage girl stuffed in a trash dumpster in a small lot with two gunshot wounds to her head. The detectives knew straightaway that she was raped. Beaten almost beyond recognition, her face was contorted, and her fingers and ribs were broken.
Uniformed officers and CSI flooded the area, causing bystanders to become curious as to who had been murdered. Word had gotten out that it was a young girl in her teens, but they didn’t know her name or exact age yet. However, some of the neighbors speculated but weren’t saying anything until the victim’s identity was confirmed.
The morning was overcome with death and the anguish on the detectives’ faces as they held their breaths, knowing it wouldn’t be easy relaying the news to the victim’s family. The area was dusted for fingerprints, and then the body was processed, which included taking photos, before being carefully removed from the dumpster a few hours after it was found by a group of young kids while playing.
A few bystanders cried out when word started getting around that it was Nichols’ body in the dumpster.
“Oh my God! Are you kidding me?” a young woman in her housecoat and slippers exclaimed when the news reached her. Her eyes welled up with tears. She had known little Nichols since she was in diapers.
Others were heartbroken about the news, stating she was a sweet, young girl, unlike her sisters, especially Kola. They all knew the family would be devastated, that there would be trouble in the hood when Kola found out about her sister’s murder. The crowd of onlookers suddenly noticed Apple rushing from her building.
Clad in a pair of white-and-blue pajama pants, flip-flops, and a T-shirt, with her hair wrapped tightly underneath a multi-colored scarf, Apple ran to the location with a sense of urgency, her eyes on the crime scene, where she noticed a body covered by a white sheet and surrounded by detectives and crime scene investigators.
The closer she got, the faster her heart beat, and the more she felt her chest tightening up. She had a gut feeling that something was wrong. Her eyes watered, but she wasn’t into full-blown tears yet. Not knowing the identity of the victim was eating her up inside. She needed to know who they’d found in the dumpster.
Apple was ready to rip through the crime scene tape and rush past the lone officer assigned to guard the scene, but he held her back.
“Miss, you can’t pass.”
She struggled with the officer, shouting, “Get off me! Get the fuck off me! Yo, who they find? Who is that? Is that my sister? Is that fuckin’ her?”
Apple struggled with the officer, who realized that, from her strong outburst, she had to be close to the victim. Still, he had a responsibility to the victim and the crime scene. He strengthened his hold on Apple. Other officers came to aid him, but they stood around and watched Apple cry out hysterically, all sympathetic to her.
“Is it her? Just fuckin’ tell me! Is it Nichols? Is it my little sister?” she ranted.
Two well-dressed detectives walked up to Apple and allowed her to pass through to where they stood near the covered body. From the missing person’s report and picture given to them, they knew it was Nichols.
One quickly consoled Apple and said, “I’m sorry. It’s her.”
Apple let out a piercing scream that echoed throughout the projects and made the hair on everyone’s skin rise. She collapsed into the detective’s arms, hysterical with grief, and then dropped to her knees while still in his hold.
The detective held her for a short moment and then nodded to a uniformed officer for his help. “Take care of her,” he said to the cop.
The cop nodded and took Apple into his grasp, relieving Detective Johnson of the grieving young woman. The onlookers stood close by and watched everything unfold. A few were teary-eyed, while others were outraged by the murder, but most were just lost and couldn’t understand it. What kind of monster could do such a thing?