Tiffany and Dior: Love in Las Vegas Streets (16 page)

      In the streets Dior was a fighter. He would never let anyone punk him or push him around. Even in a life or death situation my baby was a fighter.  He would die to protect the ones he loved.     

    “Take off the blindfold,” I heard one of the men say. I opened my eyes and then closed them when the blindfold was removed. It took a few moments for my vision to become clear and I immediately started to look around. I was being held in a huge empty warehouse. There were two other men holding guns with black ski masks covering their faces.

    I almost collapsed in the chair as I sat there being forced to watch the love of my life being tortured by two men. My heart was breaking into pieces seeing Dior face down on the hard, cold cement floor. I felt helpless because I couldn’t protect him. He was fighting for his life and I couldn’t save him. In between cries, I could somehow hear him calling my name. It nearly killed me, knowing that the one who made life worth living for needed my help and I couldn’t save him.

      I tried to say something. I wanted to let him know I was there and that he didn’t have to be afraid. I was going to get us out of it. As soon as I opened my mouth to utter the words nothing came out. I tried to break free but I felt powerless. I felt my heart racing and my stomach twisting and turning, minute after minute, an unrelenting deluge of fear.

        Somehow at that very moment I heard my mother’s voice. “Fear is the first sign of weakness; you should never tell anyone your biggest fear for they will use that against you.” 

        One of my biggest fears was death! I saw so much death in my life that I never wanted to leave this earth, on purpose or accidentally. Nevertheless, I was tied to a chair waiting for my life to end.

     When they stopped beating him, he managed to look over at me. His eyes were sunken in and blackened. Blood dripped from his temple down his face, neck, and chest. The once “pretty boy,” as everyone referred to him, was unrecognizable. I felt him slipping away and I wish it were me leaving.

    “Baby, please don’t leave me,” I whispered. His eyes connected with mine and how I wished I could rewind time and have things go back to being normal. He didn’t deserve this; he didn’t deserve to die like this. We were supposed to be living our happily ever after.

    “That’s enough. Drag him over to the corner,” one of the men said. When he stepped into the light the man standing before me was Black.

    “Black, please don’t do this,” I tried to plead with him.

    “Tiffany, you are a beautiful woman and I hate to see such beauty go to waste, but you were just some hood rat I saved from a fire. I didn’t expect to exactly wife you up but that was my mistake. I knew you were nothing but a gold digging, ungrateful bitch. I gave you a home and I took care of your nephew as if he was my own. You never had to want for anything. All I wanted was for you to do as I said and you would reap the benefits, but you just weren’t satisfied.”

    “Please, Black, I can fix this.”

“No, sweetheart, you cannot fix this. In life there are consequences with everything you choose to do. There is an old saying: Don’t bite the hand that feeds you. Well, princess, I gave you both hands and now you have to die.”

   “Black, don’t. Please, what can I do to fix this? I don’t want to die.” I tried to plead with him but Black’s mind was made up.

“ Here's your last rose,” Black started as he stared down at Dior who was fighting to stay alive.

      “Tiffany, I love you.” His words faded.

    “No…no…no!” I screamed.

    “BOOOOOM!”

    “Dior!” I screamed as the bullet ripped through his chest.

      Splashed! Splashed! Splashed!

    I watched helplessly while one of the men poured gasoline over the floor and on Dior. “Nooo!!” I screamed.

      Black kissed my forehead before walking away. At that moment my mind flashed back to when Kurt shot my mother and sisters than burned down our house. This time I didn't have the strength or fight left in me to fight. I couldn't save my life.

      No one told me this would be my life and that I would never make my dreams come true. How could this be my reality? I cried. Not this! This wasn’t a dream. This was a nightmare. I wasn't ready to die. Not like this!

      I cried as the flames got closer and much hotter. I closed my eyes and I opened it back to see the entire basement on fire. I stared up at the ceiling searching for a miracle, “God please if it isn't my time to go, please save me once more. Please God I beg you to save my life.” That's when I saw Dior body move. The fire was getting close and he was already badly burned and lost a lot of blood.

“Baby get up!” I tried to yell but my throat was on fire and I felt my body getting weak.

     That's when Dior got the strength to get up and he rushed over to my side untying my arms and then my legs. He collapsed onto the floor. I held him in my arms. I didn't want him to die alone. Everyone I love was dead and I felt I didn't deserve to live until I felt little butterflies in my lap. My baby kicked for me letting me know I had a reason to live.

“Tiffany let me die here. You saved my life before and now I am saving yours. It's my time, I killed a lot of niggas back in the day. I was supposed to had died years ago. You got my seed growing inside of you. I will be with you forever. I love you!.” Dior words faded.

         I watched with swallowed eyes as the tears endlessly ran down my cheeks. Dior took his last breath of life before his eyes closed shut. I wanted to stay at there with him but I had to go. I looked around the basement one more time. The fire was much hotter and getting closer by the second. It's crazy I had to give up someone I truly love in order to save my life, I thought to myself as I wiped away the tears.

                               The End….

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                       ABOUT THE AUTHOR

                       Ameerah Cooper –Biography

   Today I am a woman, not because of my gender, but because of my life experiences. I was born to Eileen Rodgers and Frank Cooper Jr. in the city of Paterson, New Jersey, where I was also raised. I have four sisters and three brothers who I love very much. However, at the age of six my mother was forced out of my life and a new one began. During grammar school I used to get picked on by my classmates because I went to school wearing baggy clothes and big sneakers. Girls use to pull on my hair and call me names like “Big Lips.” I hated my childhood days. I always felt I was different. I starting writing when I was ten years old and I fell in love with it. It was my way of escaping the pain of my parents abandoning me. My inspiration comes from my past relationships, friendships, experiences I’ve had and experiences from others. I use my stories to encourage young women growing up in the urban cities that there is more to life than sex, money, drugs and violence. During my teenage years I had a relationship with a guy who abused me mentally and physically for six years. Those years of my life were the hardest because I had no family or friends by my side. I felt lost and confused in life. At 18 years old I found myself living on my own. I ran the streets, drinking, smoking, and hanging out. I have been homeless before, and I’ve been abused in every relationship I’ve ever been in, which started from home. But as the saying goes, “What doesn’t kill you will only make you stronger.” Once I overcame that battle I found myself dealing with another obstacle. During my new relationship as a young adult I was faced with another tragic moment from the doctors one day telling me I could never have children to soon being blessed with a baby boy. When my water broke it was supposed to be the best moment in my life, but instead it was one of the worst as I gave birth to a stillborn baby. I was devastated, lost and confused. During my pregnancy I had stopped writing because I had wanted to focus on school and on becoming a mother and a wife, but it all changed within the blank of an eye. I lost my son and the man who I thought I would marry. I never lost myself but I disappeared from all social media, cut everyone off and isolated myself from the world for two years. My struggles and my pain have only humbled me. I knew that being a nurse is just a career but writing is my passion so I never gave up. After I recovered from my loss I got back into writing. My goal is to use my talent to encourage people to follow your dreams and show them that you can do anything you put your mind to. I not only want to become the bestselling author in urban friction, I want people to remember my name because this is my calling, my passion and my dream. I want my readers to be able to relate to my stories and use them to motivate them and show that there is a purpose in life and you do not need a man to succeed. I want my readers to know that they are smart, beautiful and God’s gift to the world, and to never allow their environment to hold them back.

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