Bad Apple - the Baddest Chick (24 page)

It pained her to hear Nichols’ gut-wrenching voice. She felt this paralyzing chill overcome her that she couldn’t escape. Some demonic force would depart from the depths of hell to seize her sadistically and pull her into a long suffering. She would try to scream, shake, bite, and fight her way out of the dark entity’s control over her, but the more she fought, the weaker she became, until finally she’d give in. That’s when she would feel herself sinking down into hell and hear Nichols’ chilling voice fading in the distance. She would stir wildly from her sleep and have to catch her breath. Her nightmare seemed too real, and she would be paranoid for the first ten minutes after waking up.

It was the sixth nightmare she’d had within two weeks, and it started to bother her. She thought about seeing a doctor, but then she didn’t want to be looked at as crazy.

With no one around to talk to or comfort her, Apple got out of bed and went into the bathroom. She turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face to calm her nerves. She lingered on her reflection in the bathroom mirror for a moment and noticed the change in her eyes, which were now cold and daring.

Next, she walked into the kitchen to fix herself a late-night snack. She figured having something in her stomach would ease her nerves a little more. She made herself a turkey and cheese sandwich, poured a large cup of iced tea, and returned to her bedroom to try and relax. She rested against the headboard, stuffed her face with food, and turned the volume up to see what was good to watch on cable at three in the morning. It was mostly paid programs and movies she’d already seen.

Nothing of interest caught her eye, until she turned to The History Channel and caught the beginning of an hour-long documentary on Stockholm syndrome, which she wanted to know more about. She didn’t know why the show had caught her eye, but she focused on the program.

At first, the host talked about the syndrome—“the psychological occurrence where hostages show admiration, worship and praise and have unreasonable positive feelings toward their captors, given the endangerment and risk.”

The program stated that the FBI’s Hostage Database System showed that almost 30% of victims show signs of Stockholm syndrome, an extraordinary phenomenon in which a hostage begins to identify with and grow sympathetic to his captor.

Apple’s young eyes stayed glued to the program. The program then went on to talk about Patty Hearst, the heir to a publishing fortune who in 1974 was kidnapped by the Symbionese Liberation Army. Unbelievably, Hearst aggressively participated in a robbery just two months after she was captured. Patty was convicted and sent to prison, but in 1979 her sentence was commuted by President Jimmy Carter, and in 2001 she received a pardon from President Bill Clinton.

After the program ended, Apple started wondering if she was suffering from the same condition. Was it Stockholm syndrome? She was in awe, still staring at the TV in a trance-like state. She realized that she had become a willing participant in covering up her sister’s murder by cohabiting with her murderer.

The tears started to flow from Apple’s eyes like a waterfall. It was like she was meant to watch that documentary. She felt Supreme had used her, taken advantage of her when she was vulnerable, and left her blinded from the reality that he was still a murderer. After killing her younger sister, now he was using her for his own purposes. And he would probably discard her when he had no more use for her.

Apple knew she was fucked in her own way, though, without any real proof linking Supreme to her sister’s murder. Besides that, she figured the police weren’t likely to help because now she was known to be an accomplice in Supreme’s criminal enterprise.

That same night, Apple logged on to the Internet and continued to read more about Stockholm syndrome. She stayed up till morning reading about it and learned that hostages who develop Stockholm syndrome usually see the culprit as the giver of life simply because they spared it. The captor automatically becomes in control of the captive’s need for survival and the victim’s overall life.

Apple thought about Supreme taking her to DC, buying her things to make her happy, and not killing her when he had the chance. He’d provided her with material things and made her look to him for her survival.

She continued to read on. “The perpetrator threatens to murder the victim and paints the picture of having the capability to do so. The hostage figures it safer to align with the captor, bear the adversity of captivity, than to resist and face murder.”

Apple ended her research by reading some more. “When realization from the hostage seeps in that their life was spared, the hostage sees the perpetrator as showing some degree of kindness. Kindness is the basis of the Stockholm syndrome; the condition will not develop unless the captor exhibits it in some form toward the hostage. However, the hostages often misinterpret a lack of abuse as kindness and may develop feelings of gratitude for this supposed compassion.”

Apple thought about how Supreme had once threatened her and her family, and then sucked her into being in a relationship with him with his gifts, sex, and charm. She felt Supreme had manipulated her over the summer. Suddenly feeling disgusted and used, she ran into the bathroom, fell to her knees, positioned her face over the toilet, and began vomiting.

“Fuck me!” she uttered.

She stayed in the bathroom staring into space for about an hour. Then she got up, washed her face, collected herself, and devised a plan to get back at Supreme. He’d brought hell and shame upon her family, and for that he needed to pay with his life.

The following day, Apple got into her Benz and drove to Lincoln projects. Even though she had a sudden disgust in her heart and despised Supreme, she loved her newfound life and wasn’t about to give it up. She still had business to take care of.

The first thing on her agenda for the day was confronting Ayesha. Apple had got word that not only did she fuck Supreme to cancel her debt, she was also talking shit about her.

Ayesha let it be known in public that she wasn’t scared of Apple, shouting out, “I remember when she used to be a dumb, broke bitch! That bitch ain’t shit to me!”

Apple didn’t take too lightly to the insult and wanted to teach Ayesha a lesson. She parked her Benz and strutted into the building in her tight Seven jeans and stylish top, her
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22 and small blade concealed. When the locals saw Apple around the way, they knew to expect trouble. She only came through to either collect money or whip a bitch’s ass.

Apple walked up to two passing young ladies and asked, “Any of y’all seen Ayesha around?”

“No,” they replied.

Apple kept it moving and continued to ask around for her, but no one knew where she was at. She was beginning to think they were covering for her, knowing she was there to hurt Ayesha for the gossip she was spreading.

An hour later, Apple still didn’t have any luck finding Ayesha, so she decided to call it quits and come back the next day to continue her search. She stood beside her Benz, the sun slowly dropping below the horizon. The streets were teeming with people, from the young to the old, and with the first day of school right around the corner, the young ones were trying to have fun for the last few days of summer vacation.

Apple lit up a cigarette, leaned against her Benz, and looked around at her old hood. She didn’t live too far from it and didn’t miss it at all. She hated the sight of her old building—too many memories for her. She wanted out of Harlem, period, but the only place she’d been to was DC.

She exhaled the smoke, took a few more pulls, and was ready to extinguish her cigarette and get into her car. Just then, she noticed Cross’ gleaming black Range Rover coming to a stop across the street from her. Her heart fluttered, and she couldn’t keep her eyes off his truck. The windows were tinted, and his chrome wheels shined like a brand new dime. Apple knew it was Cross’ truck because she knew that man’s ride from blocks away. She missed staring at her eye-candy. Apple so badly wanted to jump his bones, and in a heartbeat, she was ready to become his woman. The way he made her feel, it should be considered a crime. She would have done anything for him.

Apple watched from the short distance of three lanes of traffic, as Cross stepped out of his truck clad in a bright red velour sweat suit, matching Jordan’s, and his long chain gleaming with diamonds. She smiled, feeling like she had the courage to finally holla at him the way she wanted to, but her smile was short-lived when she saw Kola step out from the passenger’s side of the Range Rover. Apple looked on with bewilderment, which soon turned to bitterness and hate when she witnessed Cross pull Kola into his arms like she was his woman, hugging and kissing on her in public.

“Oh no, this bitch didn’t,” she whispered under her breath in total disbelief.

Apple was fuming and couldn’t keep her eyes off Kola hugged up on Cross. It was apparent that they had become a couple. She wanted to know how the fuck it happened. She just stood there watching the two enter the Chinese takeout spot. For a moment, Apple was lost. It seemed like her nightmare was never-ending. She couldn’t believe how Kola betrayed her. Kola knew of her feelings for Cross.

She tossed her cigarette and hurriedly moved across the street, not caring about traffic, and stormed into the Chinese establishment.

“Bitch, how fuckin’ dare you cross me like that!” she shouted, attracting the attention of other customers.

Kola was hugged up on Cross as they waited for their food. When she saw Apple barging into the place, she smirked. Then she suddenly slid from her man’s arm and rushed toward Apple with that same fury. The twin sisters were up in each other’s faces, while the customers stood around watching the two identical twins size each other up.

Kola shouted, “I just stepped up on somethin’ that you were too scared to push up on!”

“Nah, fuck that! You knew how I felt about him! How you do me like that, Kola? You a foul bitch!”

“Bitch, fuck you! Don’t come up in my face talkin’ about betrayal, after what happened to Nichols! You ain’t got no fuckin’ right!”

“Why you gotta keep throwing that in my face?”

“’Cause you and Mommy are some dumb bitches. But it’s all good, ’cause you gonna get yours, bitch!”

“Kola, don’t fuck wit’ me!” Apple was so close up on her sister, she could see the pores of her skin.

Cross got between the two. “Y’all need to chill.” He grabbed his woman away from Apple, who was crushed when she saw how Cross took hold of Kola in that caring manner.

“Yeah, I got him, bitch. He’s wit’ me. You hear me, tramp? I got him. So go and continue fuckin’ wit’ that rapist killer, ’cause I’m doin’ better!”

Apple exited the food spot with tears in her eyes and rushed across the street to her ride. She hastily got in behind the steering wheel, started up the car, and peeled off without caring about oncoming traffic, causing an approaching car to slam on its brakes to prevent crashing into her Benz.

Apple raced back home and hurried through her front door. She cried out for Denise, but she wasn’t home. She peeled off her clothing, leaving a small trail from the living room to the bathroom. She suddenly needed to cleanse herself in the steaming hot water. She got into the shower and let the hot water cascade off her rich light-brown skin, wishing she could just wash the pain and heartbreak away. She was fucked up. Just thinking about Kola fucking Cross made her want to go insane. It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. Cross was supposed to be her man. She was the one he was supposed to wife up.

Apple remained in the shower for a long time, wanting to make the pain go away, scrubbing herself and letting the water soothe her. So much had happened in the past three months. In fact her life had gone a quick 180 degrees in such a short time.

After spending an hour in the shower, she stepped out the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, to find that Supreme and Guy Tony had arrived and were lingering downstairs.

Supreme looked at her and asked, “Where you been at?”

“Out.”

“What you got for me then?”

“What?” Apple responded, confused.

“I heard you was out today trying to collect. So where it at?”

“I didn’t collect shit today, Supreme, and right now, I’m not in the mood for your shit.”

Supreme glanced at Guy Tony and then glared back at Apple with a look that let her know he didn’t like her response. His hulking figure moved closer to her. “Bitch, who the fuck you talking to like that?”

“Supreme, just step the fuck off! Fo’ real!”

Apple wasn’t in the mood for his nonsense and had enough to deal with. She spun on her heels with an attitude and was about to go back into the bedroom, but Supreme grabbed her from behind with brute force and tossed her into the couch like he was a tornado.

“You dumb bitch, watch your fuckin’ mouth wit’ me!” he yelled. “Remember who the fuck you talking to! You work for me! I fuckin’ made you! You fuckin’ understand me? Everything you got is ’cause of me.”

Apple lifted herself off the couch, but Supreme knocked her back down with a quick backhand slap. Then he snatched the towel from around her, leaving her stark naked in front of company.

Guy Tony didn’t turn his head. Instead, he stared at Apple’s lovely figure.

Apple clutched the side of her face and wiped the little blood from her mouth. She flaunted a defiant stare and mockingly replied, “Yeah, that’s the fuckin’ Supreme I know. I guess the honeymoon is over now. Huh, baby?”