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Sacred Destini

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Pirate's Passion
by Robin Leigh Miller

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It Came Down to This - Foreword
By Sacred Destini
Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Rated "PG13" by the Author.

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This is the foreword to my novel in progress.

Foreword – How it Began…

I stepped through the door and threw my keys on the side table.  As I dropped my bags on the floor in the living room, something didn’t feel right.  I called out, “Dante, are you home sweetie?”  I looked around at the door and saw his timbs by the coat rack.  I heard shuffling coming from the bathroom.  I figured he must’ve been in the shower.  I walked into the bedroom and smelled the sweet aroma of vanilla coming from the oil burning on top of the dresser.  I followed a trail of his clothes all the way to the bathroom.  I began to disrobe as well and made my way to meet him.  I opened the door slowly as to not to make any noise.  I tiptoed my way to the shower and pulled the glass door open.  That’s when I saw HER!

            It took me a minute to make sense of what I was witnessing.  My man all over some light skin chick in MY shower!  The chick shrieked and Dante almost fell out of the shower in shock of seeing me standing there naked before him.  Caught, the niggah was caught!  I shot him the most evil look and turned to go back into the bedroom.  I went to my closet and pulled out my 9mm.  I returned to the scene of the crime and pointed my 9 right at his head and said, “You got 1 minute to get that bitch and your shit and get out my house!”  Dante was shocked and froze right where he was.  “There is no use of standing still.  You have 59 seconds to get the fuck out before I pull this trigger!”  I cocked the gun and the boy began to panic.  My focus was on him; meanwhile chick was screaming not knowing what to do.  “Bitch you crazy! What the fuck you gonna do, shoot both of us?” I aimed my gun right in between her eyes and the bitch shut her mouth. 

            Now back to Dante.  “30, 29, 28, 27…time is ticking Dante and you are still in the bathroom.”  He grabbed his clothes in the bedroom, the bitch, and his timbs and slammed the door behind him.  I ran to the window to watch him drive off in the benz I bought him.  When he pulled off that is when the tear ran down my cheek.  All I remember after that was sliding towards the floor with the 9 in my hand. I cried myself to sleep with the feeling that it all came down to this.

            The next morning I woke up feeling shitty as if I had a hang over.  I looked around myself and saw two bottles of Alize empty along side a wine glass.  I got ripped last night and didn’t remember anything.  I grabbed my head as I heard Billie Holiday blaring from my speakers.  I made my way to the bathroom and almost lost it again when I had a flashback of Dante and that bitch in my shower.  I took out my bleach and did what anyone else would do…I cleaned the hell out of that shower to the point where I had to open the window before I passed out from the fumes.  I scrubbed and scrubbed fighting back my tears.  I sat in the tub and turned the water on.  I sat there in my clothes and let the water beat on my body.  My mind was swirling out of control and I felt as if I was losing it.

            I jumped as I heard a knock at my door.  I pulled myself out the shower and made my way to the door dripping all over my floor.  I looked through the peep hole and saw my mother behind the door.  I was in no mood to hear your nagging so I just watched through the peephole in hopes she would walk away and leave me alone today.  The Lord was watching over me as he knew I did not have the patience to deal with her today.  I had to say Amen when she huffed and walked away.

            I decided to disrobe and have a shower.  I had to shake this off.  It didn’t make sense.  I got ready, did my hair, and grabbed my keys.  I made my way down Rt. 287 and put a call into a psychology office one of my friends referred me to.  I asked the receptionist to fit me in as it was an emergency.  Thirty minutes later I was sitting in the waiting room getting ready to see a psychologist named James.  “Was I going crazy?  I was in need of psychotherapy? How could it all come down to this?” was what I thought to myself while sitting there waiting.

            Ten minutes later, this tall white guy came strolling out from behind a door and said, “Kiara Johnson?”  I jumped when he called my name, but I gathered my purse and followed him into a back office.  I was somewhat nervous as I never thought I would be sitting in therapist office like this.  He leaned back in his chair and asked, “So, Miss Johnson, what brings you in here today?”  I let out a sigh and began to tell him my story.  My name is Kiara Johnson and I am losing my mind.



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