My twin sister India is NOT dead!” Rosaria replied to the officers, with a cracked voice & confused expression.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, I assumed you already knew,” the officer responded, lowering his weapon. He put the safety on, returned his gun to its holster & pulled out an electronic device.
“Is this dead body your sister India’s,” the officer asked, showing Rosaria the picture.
“Oh my God!” Rosaria screamed once she saw it was India. “It’s her! It’s her, oh my God, oh my God!”
Rosaria leaned her back against the wall, slid down it, & curled up in a ball to cry.
“Ma’am, I understand this is a remarkably difficult time for you,” the officer explained, “but we need to find…”
“Remarkably difficult doesn’t even begin to describe it,” Rosaria replied, looking up at the officer. “I just learned my sister is dead & you’re telling me my brother is responsible for killing her, our boss & our boss’ lover? But, it’s not enough to watch me cry, slob & grieve on the floor like a little kid throwing a temper tantrum. You now want me to tell you where my brother is, a man I haven’t seen since I was a little girl. What kind of insensitive, unprofessional, bullies are you?”
“Ma’am, I understand you’re grieving,” the officer replied, “and our heart goes out to you. But what we need right now is your complete cooper…”
“No, what I need from you right now is space,” Rosaria replied, fighting off tears, “and what you need right now is to do your damn job and find the person responsible for taking my sister’s life. She’s all I had in this world & now she’s gone.”
Rosaria begin crying hysterically. The officer shook his head uncomfortably.
“Look guys,” the officer ordered his backup silently, “we need to get her a hotel room & on suicide watch asap. I don’t think she’s in any condition to help us right now.
Two of the officers escorted Rosaria to an unmarked car with two plain clothed detectives inside. They drove Rosaria to the Marriott hotel, booked her a room & escorted her inside. Once they left the room, she called her mother.
Breakfast in Bed: Episode 8
By: Ebrahim Aseem
Gloria kept glancing at her daughter India, who was alive, yet unconscious in the backseat. She positioned her rear view mirror so she could see both her daughter, who she’d just drugged & any police cars behind her.
India’s consciousness was in a dream like state. As far as her brain knew, she was asleep. So it did what it had been doing every night for the past six weeks: replay memories of her encounters with the love of her life, Anthony.
The first memory India dreamed about was the first time she ever asked a man for his number Anthony approached India six weeks earlier, but at that time, India was in a committed relationship with J.R. After finding out J.R. cheated, despite how much she loved him, despite him being her first love, she refused to stay loyal to his inconsistency. So, India dumped him, allowing an opportunity for her crush Anthony to approach her again. Once he did, she asked for his number to let him know she was available. His response took India’ breath away:
“You’re damn right you can have my number,” Anthony obliged. “Under one condition.
I want you to know that whoever he is, however long he’s known you &
no matter how much you think he loves you, I promise you, I can love you better.
The chemistry we share is undeniable. My attraction to you extends far beyond your physical beauty.
The way your face lights up when you speak about your passions truly attracts my aura to yours.
The way joy oozes out your pores when you ramble endlessness about all your ambitions,
all pain you’ve endured & all your future has in store, that inspires me.
I know you over think, but you dream big.
You got the soul of an old woman, with the enthusiasm of a little kid.
I want to be the calm to keep the constantly roaring tides of your over thinking mind at bay,
while simultaneously pouring gasoline on the burning fire that is your big dreams.
You work of art you. You imperfect masterpiece you.
I want to gaze inside the mirror to your soul and,
admire the beautiful thoughts painted & stained on the inner canvas of your brain.
I know you fight demons in the dark corners of your mind,
but if you give me your hand & give me your time,
I will walk hand & hand with you confidently as your peace, your light,
your demons I will help you fight, with all of my might. I will let you help me fight mine.
I will not hide my flaws from you.
Growing to be a better man, growing closer to you, that’s all I want to do.
I know somewhere, in the deep shadows of your heart, you still love him.
Just know, I can love you better.
And if you allow yourself to be open & feel the same,
I promise I will love you so deeply, reassure you so consistently, you will forget his name.
When I see what I want, I claim,
and you beautiful, you give me all I have ever wanted in life. Peace.”
Anthony grabbed India’s phone from off the table and put his number in her contacts. Remembering this in her dream state caused a smile to appear on India’s face. When her mother Gloria saw India smile, she swerved the car in surprise.
“The ether can’t be wearing off that quickly,” Gloria mumbled under her breath, “I used double the amount I used on Cynthia.
The second memory India’s mind replayed for her while she lay in dream state was her first date with Anthony just hours earlier. He took her to chakra yoga, fresh pasta & a walk on the boardwalk. They conversed about everything from art, music, movie trivia, politics to the failure of local government to indite police officers who murder unarmed Black citizens. Yet, the most steamy topic the lovebirds discussed was sexual history. More specifically, body counts.
“Did you really sleep with over 25 women before your twenty-fifth birthday?” India asked as they strolled by the water.
“What, do you think that was a pick-up line to get you to like me?” Anthony joked, inconspicuously grabbing India’s hand to hold as they walked.
“No, it just seems improbable,” India replied. “I mean, you are fine & all, but damn. Twenty-five is a lot of vaginas for one man to have had in his mouth.”
“Who says they all made it to my mouth?” Anthony responded with a laugh.
“Oh, so you don’t eat the cat?” India joked, “it’s no wonder you’ve been dumped twenty-five times.
“You’re hilarious,” Anthony replied, laughing out loud. “So let’s say I’ve never dined on pearl cuisine, would you still want to date me?”
“Well, it would be a waste of those big, juicy, dark brown lips of yours,” India replied with a sarcastic smirk, “but, you do make me feel so special. And you intrigue my mind on such an intellectual level. So yes, I would still want to date you if you didn’t dine on pearl cuisine. You would just have to be willing for me to help you acquire a taste for it. Don’t let the cute face fool you. I’m a lady in these here streets, but in bed, I like for a man to take control of my body, and that includes head.”
“Woman,” Anthony replied to India, holding both of her hands after they stopped walking.
“You don’t want to date me. Trust. I’m not as gentle of a man as you think.
In the bed I’m rough. Aggressive as fuck. I like to manhandle a girl and make her submissive to me in the bedroom. I like choking a girl. Slapping & biting her ass & thighs. Wrapping her fucking hair around my hands & pulling that shit. Talking shit & getting vulgar with my deep voice in her ear. Tongue kissing her lower lips, while treating her body like a fucking rag doll. Call me crazy, but I like a woman who can take a little pain & find her pleasure from it.”
India’s knees buckled. She began squeezing Anthony’s hands with both of hers, shivering at the sight his words painted on the canvas of her vivid imagination.
“Damn, you’re a nasty boy, ain’t you,” she replied in an impressed tone. “I love how confident you are. You actually think you can handle me.”
“Oh, I think I can handle you?” Anthony laughed.
“Did I stutter,” India replied with a smirk on her face, passion in her eyes & a smart mouthed disposition on her tongue. “Some guys really think women are their own personal playthings. They think women exist solely for their pleasure.
Well, some girls may think they have to play this helpless little girl of a role to keep a man, but I don’t. I know my worth. I know what I bring to the table. I’m comfortable in my sexuality. I notice you didn’t ask how many men I’ve slept with. Apparently, it doesn’t matter to you, which is refreshing. But, I want you to know. You’ll be the tenth man I sleep with, if you play your cards right.
A lot of guys think good dick is just about size, just about girth. But good dick is more than that, it is about how obedient that dick can be. Sleeping with 25 women doesn’t make you a man. Being choosy about who you ease your manhood inside makes you a man. Is your dick obedient to your mind, or is your mind obedient to your dick head?
Obedient dick is good dick, loyal to only one woman. Sometimes a woman of strength wants her man of valor to make her obedient to that good dick. Slapping the mouth of our lower lips with it to make our pearl stand at attention. Sometimes a woman wants to make that dick obey her. To jump at the thought of her. To grow at the sight of her. To throb in her naked presence. Good dick is obedient to only the woman who owns it. If and when you become my boyfriend, trust me, It would mean only I will own your good dick, and it will be obedient to me.”
India could feel Anthony’s heart beating outside of his chest, through his pulse by holding both of his hands.
“The sharp, smart mouth with which you speak may have been such a problem to boys in your past, but the only thing it does to me is turn me the fuck on,” Anthony assured India.
“If you were my girlfriend I wouldn’t be sweet with you in bed at all. I would be so rough with you & that soft ass, banging mutha fuckin’ body. I would aggressively manhandle your body, bring you pain & MAKE you go DEEP in that DARK pain to find your pleasure from it.
Notice I said ‘make’. I won’t ask. I won’t tell you to do something, I will fuckin’ make you do it. Say it ONCE in my deep aggressive voice & if you don’t listen, just know, that’s your ass. I will never call you outside of your name. Nor have I ever disrespected a woman by calling her out her name outside of the bedroom, but once we are in that bedroom, trust on your life
I will MAKE you my bitch.
But you better make my dick your bitch. Sometimes, a strong man of valor wants his woman to take control of his throbbing manhood like a boss. Choke it with the tight grip of the dripping walls inside your lower lips. Bitch slap my dick up against the wall of your ass cleavage. Punish it with the clapping frequency of your back shots. Swallow it whole & own it with your throat, like a boss.”
Remembering this in her dream state caused a moan to escape India’s vocal cords.
When Gloria heard her daughter India make a moan-like-sound, she swerved the car again, this time pulling on the side of the road. She made sure no other cars were on the road, then proceeded to pull her unconscious daughter out of the car, leaning her up against the rocks.
Gloria held the ether dipped napkin up to her daughter nose & mouth, yet again. Next, she snapped a picture of her unconscious daughter, who now had blood dripping down the side of her head, & emailed that picture to the local police department from her untraceable track phone. She then drug her daughter back inside the car & drove off.
Thirty-five minutes later, Gloria heard her phone ringing. When she glanced at it & saw it was her other twin daughter Rosaria, she clicked ‘ignore call’ & kept driving.
“I know she didn’t just screen my phone call,” Rosaria complained out loud.
Rosaria could tell her mother was screening her call, because when you call someone & they click ‘ignore call’, the call immediately stops ringing & abruptly goes to voicemail. Apparently, most people Gloria’s age & older’s ‘ignore-call-game’ is not on point. Even a child knows, when someone calls who, you don’t want to talk to, don’t press ‘ignore call’. Simply allow the call to go to voicemail in its natural time & the caller will not know you just ignored their ass.
“Is everything ok?” a female officer yelled, unlocking the hotel room door with her card key. “I just heard you yelling at someone.”
“Yes, everything is fine,” Rosaria explained. “I was just talking to myself. Who are you?”
“My name is officer Garciaparra,” the female officer explained. “I’m just here to make sure you stay protected.
“You mean stay protected from myself,” Rosaria paraphrased.
“No,” Officer Garciaparra answered, “I’m just…”
“Bam!” was the sound Rosaria heard before Officer Garciaparra could finish her sentence. When Rosaria looked at the officer’s face, she noticed a red hole on her forehead that wasn’t there before. It was a bullet hole. The officer’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as her body collapsed to the ground. Once the officer fell, Rosaria could clearly see the person who’d just shot the officer, standing in the hotel door way, holding a gun & wearing white gloves.
“Ahhhhh!” Rosaria screamed at the sight of the killer’s face. “It’s you!”
To be continued next Thursday…
By: Ebrahim Aseem
Missed the 1st episode? Read it here =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib
Episode #2 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib002
Episode #3 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib003
Episode #4 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib004
Episode #5 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib005
Episode #6 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib006
Last week’s episode #7 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib007
This is a fictional, weekly web-story, based on true events.
I offered to incorporate subscribers emails for advice in the weekly #BreakfastInBed stories as a way for them to anonymously ask people worldwide for advice on their situations.
By: Ebrahim Aseem
Author of the book, “Why Men Cheat on Loyal Women”