King stared at the phone in his hands. He wished he could see her.
“Hey, you want one?”
He looked up to see Jack standing a few feets away from him, smoking a cigarette.
Jack was a acquaintance from school. He had invited him to hang out with him and his friends and he had agreed, to avoid going home.
He was now in one of their houses, in the living room but he had left to go outside when Joan called. Thankfully, she didn’t hear the music.
“No, thank you.” He smiled, leaning off the wall, going back to the house.
“Who were you talking to? Some whore?”
He glanced back to see Jack following after him.
“You can hook me up.” Jack continued, “Looks like she needs some care.”
He chuckled but didn’t reply. Thankfully Jack hadn’t heard the part where he called 'the whore' his bestfriend.
Entering into the living room, he almost gagged. Cigarettes, weed, alcohol were being passed round and consumed. He had just been gone for a few minutes.
“Hey mate, come on in!” one of Jack's friends shouted. He hesitated but was pushed in by Jack.
“What’s the delay for?” Jack questioned. He sat at the edge of the sofa closest to the door. A bottle was passed to him, he declined.
“No mate. We don’t do that here. We pass, you drink and pass on.” Another of Jack’s friends whowas sat on the same sofa as him, spoke disapprovingly. This one was the oldest and the more experienced, his eyes were proof. He named him 'the blonde’s because of his long blonde hair he constantly shoved out of his eyes.
“I thought as much.” He spoke up, putting on a brave face, “But I’m not a member of your group so I don’t think the rules should apply to me.”
His remark got him the attention of everyone in the group, 7 of them, including Jack.
The one with the dreadlocks looked him up and down. The action made him feel small but he kept in his brave façade. He named him 'dreadlocks'. Dreadlocks puffed on a cigarette, the smoke billowing out in front of him then he said,
“That’s brave …but we don’t do brave here.”
Before King could register what he had said, two of them were at his side, holding him down by both arms. His back still healing from Jamal’s assault, throbbed in pain.
“Hey! Let me go!” he shouted, struggling with them.
A third dragged a table to him, placed his legs on them and sat down on his legs. He was terrified. He looked to Jack who sat at a corner, nonchalantly staring at them. A fourth pushed his head back opened his mouth wide from behind. He bit the person’s fingers, hard and the person let go, cursing loudly. A hit to his head followed and then his mouth was forced open again, this time with much force as he struggled with all the pressure. Then a bitter sharp tasting liquid was poured into his mouth. He gagged, spitting it out; the alcohol kept pouring, splashing all over his face that he feared he would choke to death.
“That’s enough.” He heard dreadlocks command. The alcohol stopped flowing and he spat all the contents of his mouth out; his face contorted in irritation at the little that had escaped into his system.
He glared enraged at dreadlocks and the blonde as he coughed violently; they seemed to be the ones in control.
“Give him a stick.” Dreadlocks ordered.
The hold on his arms loosened as the men holding them captive probably searched for a cigarette. He grabbed hold of the relapse.
One forceful jerk of his shoulder rid his arms totally of the pressure and then he pushed the guy sitted on his legs with even greater force. The guy toppled backwards, caught off guard and he freed his legs then jumped up and ran to the front door. He twisted the knob, locked. His eyes caught the keys hanging from a nail by the door and he grabbed them just as someone hit his head with a hard object. He fell to the floor, consumed by darkness.
Joan paced about her room worriedly. This was day 2, the evening of the second day and King hadn’t picked any of her calls. In fact, his phone had been reporting switched off since she started trying it the day before. She had purposely not called him on Thursday just so she could honor his request and give him space, hoping he would be the one to call. He didn’t. Friday, swallowing her pride, she called him before going to school, switched off. She had shrugged it off and gone to school.
School that had been boring and lifeless for her. Sisi hadn’t come to school, she was still having a nice time with her parents who were leaving soon, Selena had spent the whole school day with Kennedy, Keisha had been the only one that stayed with her during lunch and they weren’t exactly close; Koty had avoided her like a plague with the help of his friends and then the stares and whispers from school mates had made her feel she committed the worst mistake in Earth, rejecting Koty. Coming back home that Friday, she had hoped to find some consolation in King but his phone still sang switched off.
Now today, Saturday, she was beside herself with worry.
It was unusual. King didn’t just switch off his phone for two days… three if she counted Thursday. The last time she had not checked up on him for a whole day because she had been angry with him, he had bombarded her phone with calls the next and when she picked, he had forced her to apologize and ordered her not to do it again. Another reason his words to her the last time they spoke felt off.
She dialled his number again, switched off. She dropped unto her bed, letting out a frustrated sigh. This was something she always hoped would never happen because right that time, she didn’t know what to do. She knew everything about King, from the color of his hair to his favourite stockings but the one thing she didn’t know was his home address. She didn’t even know the route he took home.
She knew about his brother, she knew about his dead parents but the simplest thing, his residence, she didn’t know. It frustrated her. She got that he was trying to protect her from his brother to the extent he took the wrong train whenever she accompanied him to the station; but she was also smart enough to know her limits. She needed it for times like this when he was unreachable; she could tell her mother to accompany her; she was sure her mother would put away her grievances and help. What if he was in trouble? How would she know or even help?
Now, she had not the slightest inclination of what to do; no parents to call or siblings to trust, no friends to ask or neighbours to inquire of him, not even his Google location to track, he always switched it off.
The police was her next option but then she didn’t have any evidence to prove he was missing except his switched off phone. They would assume he didn’t just want to speak to her, she found that absurd but at least they would search for his house address and check it out before they came to any conclusion.
She stood up heading out of her room to her mother’s when she remembered her mother wasn’t home. She kicked her door, her hands balling into fists. She would never forgive herself if anything happened to King, she would never. She would make sure she hunted his brother down and lock him up in the deadliest of prisons. She was about to head back into her room when she heard the back door open. She froze, listening intently. The door clicked shut and no sound was heard again. That definitely wasn’t her mother, her mother would never use the back door unless on rare occasions when she lost her keys but then her mother wasn’t due to be back until evening. Was it King? She didn’t knoe why but her thoughts drifted to her father. Ever since that night she caught the flitting fear in her mother’s eyes and then her mother’s reluctance to tell her about him, she couldn’t help but view him in a bad light.
She tiptoed into her room and then popped her head out a little. Her breathing hitched when she sighted a figure coming up the stairs. She popped her head back in, standing flat against the wall. Her room door was wide open.
Footsteps sounded across the hallway and it got closer and closer…
Sweat formed on her forehead and rivulets dropped down her face, her heart was in a frenzy.
Someone swept into her room. Her pounding heart didn’t allow her register the familiar gait. She screamed loudly then sped out of her room.
“Joan, it’s me!”
She was already halfway down the stairs before the words registered.
“King?” she whispered, turning around and there he was in all his glory.
She cried out as a heavy load lifted off her chest and she didn’t hesitate to run into his open arms.
“You scared me, King! Stop doing that!” she exclaimed, hitting his back.
He hissed in pain and she quickly let him go, examining his features.
“Did he hit you?” she asked though she already knew the answer. There were no new bruises on his face, just the old ones that were almost done healing but the scars… she would have to get something for that.
“Yeah” he muttered, “And then someone else"