Free Honor Thy Thug by Wahida Clark

any other day, I would have gloated that I was my usual fly self.
    “Hi, Miss Oni,” Kaeerah called out cheerfully. Despite my hate for her, I raised my child better.
    “Hello, Kaeerah,” she said, and then burst out crying. The type of gut-wrenching cry that comes from your soul. I took that as my cue to leave, because chill bumps were popping up on my arms. I know she didn’t think I was coming over to console her.
    I went over and grabbed Kaeerah’s hand. “C’mon, baby, we will come back later.”
    “No, wait!” Oni got up off of her knees and rushed over to us. “You don’t have to leave.” She grabbed my arm and just as quickly as she did, I snatched it away from her, moving Kaeerah behind me.
    “Jaz, please,” she said with a crazed look in her eyes. “I need your help.” She pleaded with tears streaming down her cheeks.
    “There is nothing I can do for you,” I said through clenched teeth. I was struggling really hard, trying not to tap that ass right there in the chapel.
    “Please. You have to tell Faheem that I am sorry. I can’t live with him hating me.”
    The pain in her eyes caused my heart to skip a beat. The mother in me wanted to comfort her, but the wife in me and the hate I was holding onto said, Check this bitch . I closed the space between us. “I will do no such thing. Are you fucking crazy? Bitch, it is all, ” I pointed toward her chest, “All your fault that your child is dead. You’re sorry ? Bitch, you are more than sorry ! Because of you, your son is dead!” My mood went from anger to rage. “ Sorry is not going to bring that child back. Sorry is not going to take back the pain that Faheem will live with for the rest of his life. Sorry is not going to take back the beat-down that my husband endured, and sorry damn sure ain’t going to make the police leave him alone. You are absolutely right, you are sorry. A sorry, pathetic bitch. Your son is dead. He is never coming back and my husband, his father will never get over that. I hope you rot in hell. You were always sheisty, and you deserve whatever hell is coming at you, and believe me, it’s coming. Stay the fuck away from my family! Let’s go, Kaeerah.” I pulled her arm, and we left the chapel.
    I was not expecting to run into her and get that off. It actually felt better than prayer.
    Most important, I hoped that she suspected that I was coming after her. I already knew who I was going to get to help me carry my plan out.
ONI
    I couldn’t believe that Jaz went off on me like that . . . and in front of her daughter. I already was at my wits end, guilt damnnear eating me alive. Now I felt as if there was no hope at all. She threw every shred of blame there was up in my face. It’s my fault that my son is dead. It’s my fault that Faheem will have to live with this pain for the rest of his life. I was hoping that Jaz would have helped me. But instead, she magnified my pain and cut my soul to shreds.
FAHEEM
    “I’m baaaad, shut yo mouth!” Steve announced as he barged into my hospital room. “Tell me I’m the man! Go ahead! Tell me, Faheem.”
    “Steve, I’m lying here like a wounded, captured animal, and you want me to play word games?”
    “You want to know why I’m the man?” Steve continued to ignore my sour mood. “You pay me the big bucks because I. Am. The. Man. That’s right! I am the man!”
    “I pay you the big bucks so you can get these chains off of me and keep them off, that’s why.” I focused on the television, which was on mute.
    “Mr. Mujahid, exactly what in the hell is it that you think I did?”
    He now had my undivided attention. “What do you mean, Steve?”
    He leaned over and began to whisper, “Your prints were not on any of the weapons at the scene of the crime. Hell, they were on nothing but your son. But I did have to agree to bring you in for questioning. Key words: bring you in . Once we do that, our end of the deal is done. If you don’t know anything, you can’t