Art · Drama · Erotica · Fiction · Life · Sex · Uncategorized

Scarred 3

Scarred 3


“It bleeds but we don’t see the cuts”

Follow @adewus4real You’ll only regret it when I get heartbroken 


Niggas I Know by INK Edwards

I could feel the discomfort as the bristles grazed the surface of my teeth as I brushed my teeth that night.

I still hadn’t gotten over the messages I read on Tasha’s phone. It just seemed out of Jacques’ character and I could not wrap my head around the idea of him saying it.

If someone had told me he said that, I would have argued and vehemently denied it. Seeing the messages myself made it impossible to clear out of my head.

I could understand wanting to defend and protect his sister but why would he say that about me?

After all, he knew I wouldn’t try to intentionally hurt her, or so I thought.


Sometimes one can go through certain things in life and the ability to compartmentalize comes naturally. I was trying to figure out the best way to stop my anger from spilling into other parts of my life.

I was failing miserably as I would find myself tying everything back to the messages and the thought behind them.

It was very early Thursday morning and I was running an errand. I had to take public transportation as I still wasn’t medically cleared to drive. I was walking to the bus stop and realized that I was still every angry. I needed someone to talk to, someone to vent to and get things off my chest. I needed a soundboard, someone to tell me I wasn’t crazy for feeling so angry.

And then it hit me; I pulled out my headphones from my iPod classic and put them inside my phone. I unlocked my phone and dialed Jules’ number. It rung for a few seconds and then he answered.

I could hear the sounds of people’s voices around him as he made his way to work on the train. We exchanged greetings and I delved straight into the conversation with him.

“Sooo Tasha came over this past weekend…”

I started off,

“Oh really? How did that go?”

he responded with surprise and a sense of inquiry. I replied,

“I’m not sure actually. She came with some story about how she was sorry for not coming to the hospital more while I was there and how her life was difficult and blah blah blah…”

“Oh isn’t that a great way to apologize”

 Jules chimed back in with his famous sarcasm.

“Bro, that’s not even the good part… I went through her phone bro.”

 “You did what?

Bruh, you know that never ends well with anyone. Man or woman.”

he attempted to lecture me.

“I know. I know but I had to. Well I felt the urge and followed it. I found out that Jacques had been telling Tasha to stay away from me. I think he might have been the reason why she stayed away from me while I was recovering. I was shocked bro. I saw the messages he sent her warning her from coming to see me. Bro, if I see him at your thing next week, I’m going to go OFF!”

Jules, who was usually very helpful but was always the mediator between Jacques and I since college, didn’t help much this time.

“All that’s not needed. Just talk to him about it first before you both get on planes to come out here. This is a big moment for me. I need y’all on your game.”

He continuously defaulted to asking me to speak to Jacques directly to get his side of the story. We chatted some more after I realized he wouldn’t be helpful on that issue and then I ended the call.

I pondered calling Jacques the next day but never got to it because I received this message from him.


I realized that Jules must have talked to him and that was fine by me but I was now even more pissed off because he called me a traitor.


There was no way he could call me a traitor. We had way more history and a bond that was beyond friendship. Him calling me a traitor broke my heart and was a direct slap in the face. And I was planning on responding.

.       .     .       .     .       .

That night I was in my living room looking out on to my balcony when I began to think of the three J’s and how we got so close. Particularly I remembered how Jacques and I became as close as we were. It took me back to our senior year in college. It took me back to that fateful night when it happened.

I remembered placing my hands on my head. I could not understand what had just happened. I was sweating bullets, as my eyes were wide open but felt extremely heavy.

My brain was racing to figure it all out. It felt like there was a puzzle in my head that I was trying to solve under the family feud 25 seconds clock. I was running different scenarios in my head and every single one arrived at one final question

“What have I done?”

I placed my head on the steering wheel realizing what I had done and began to cry. I was crying because I made it out alive but more than anything, I was crying because I didn’t know if they did. I began to think of my family, my sister, my education, my life, my legacy and the tears just flooded out even more. It seemed like I was going to break.

It felt like everything I had ever worked for or lived for was going down the drain in one night. I looked up at the clock and it was 3:16am. I looked around the cabin of the car and made sure there was nothing lying around. My car was usually clean. I was just trying to make sure that nothing was left, nothing that could suggest anything to anyone looking for something that could implicate me. The girls I had driven in the car earlier had a makeup bag on the back seat and some cups for the alcohol they were drinking on our way to the party.

Everything was clear, so I got up and headed for the door. I made it to the door of the apartment. Swaying and staggering because of the weed I had smoked at the party. We had added something to the blunt to make it stronger that day but I didn’t know it hit me that hard. I stopped in front of the door and began knocking. My eyes were still big, my heart racing felt like someone was holding the skin above them back to ensure my eye lids didn’t fall down. I could sense myself getting really worried now.

“What if he wasn’t home?”

I hadn’t texted him before I left the party and quite frankly I wasn’t even planning on coming there when I left the party, it was what happened from when I left the club to the house that caused me to change my destination. I knocked again. No answer.

Now I was truly scared and worried. I needed to speak to him. I did not want to go home that night. I just didn’t want to be by myself. I knocked one more time and then I heard some movement inside and the light from the bedroom went on. I sighed in relief knowing that he was home.

He walked over to the door and opened it. He was standing there somewhat awake in his undershirt and with an erection. He looked up at me irritated and confused.

“Why’d you keep knocking man? Don’t you have your key?”

I looked down at the bunch of keys in my hand and nodded. That showed how much I was off my game. I actually had a key into his place. We all had keys to each others apartments. Primarily it was because of an incident with Jules where a girl from a rival school wanted to have sex with him but he did not want to have sex with her. Obviously because she was crazy and not on the “healthy” side, he camped out at my house while I was gone. But that incident caused us to devise a plan that consisted of us all having spare keys to get into each other’s apartments incase of any emergencies.

I was staring at the keys when I heard Jacques fingers snapping me back into reality as he closed the door behind me.

“So why are you trying to break the door bro”

he said.

I looked up from the keys and caught his erection again going up towards his face and I asked,

“Why don’t you have any clothes on?”

He looked at me with a mix of satisfaction and irritation and said,

“because I was involved in things before your ass almost broke my door down”

I tried to force a smile back and failed. He stepped closer, tapped me and walked to the kitchen and then asked,

“what happened man? Talk! You’re keeping her waiting”

I looked at him straight in the face and I knew I couldn’t lie to him. This was my brother. I ran to him for a reason.

I sighed and then said,

“I was driving really fast and I hit someone on the way here. I think they might be dead”

His eyes lit up. He immediately walked over to the window and looked outside. He walked back in and headed for his bedroom door and he closed it.

He looked at me and asked,

“Did anybody follow you?”

I said


“Are you drunk right now or did you drink?” 

I said no again.

“Okay good. We can go from there. Go and take a shower and eat some food. We’ll handle the rest tomorrow.”

He said as he opened the door and headed into his room closing the door behind him. I stood in there and looked at myself. I felt dirty. Not physically but like I was covered in filthiness that was unseen. I headed to the guest bathroom of his two-bedroom apartment and hopped in the shower. I ignored my phone the whole time.

I dried myself off and headed for the bed in the guest room. My old shoes lay in the corner. I climbed into the bed and realized I had no charger for my phone.

I placed the phone next to my head. I could not stop thinking about the accident. I was driving too fast. I was tired. I was high. The light was yellow when I crossed the line but it was like red the very next moment. I caught the end of the other car that was probably going just as fast and might have run their red light to come into the intersection. I wasn’t sure and it was killing me. I know the car spun and hit the light post a few feet down the street but I kept driving. I panicked.

I didn’t mean to but here I was now and I couldn’t go back. I had too much to lose by turning myself in. I remembered what Jacques said and figured we would deal with it the next day.

I stared at the ceiling in the dark room; the red light for the low battery signal on my phone blinked and my eyes grew heavy. Sleep came.


I was awoken the next morning by the sound of the blender as Jacques was making his famous morning power shakes. I stumbled into the kitchen as I tried to hide my face from all the sunlight that flooded his apartment.

“Do you have your practice stuff with you?”

he asked me again jolting my mind towards something I had missed.

“It’s the playoffs man”

I nodded back and responded

“yeah, my gym bag is in my trunk”

I was surprised that he was not talking about the incident that brought me there in the first place so I asked,

“aren’t we going to talk about last night?”

I looked at him concerned. He looked at me and with a straight face, he responded by simply saying,


he then continued to say,

“We have a meeting with the Dean and Vice Provost after practice. I’m coming with you and you don’t need to worry about it. They called my phone this morning because yours was dead”

I wanted to piss my pants right there. How did they know it was me?

Back then, that was a stupid question to ask because there weren’t that many people in that town driving a dark green 2005 Buick LeSabre with alloy wheels and a huge subwoofer in the trunk. My car was known on campus. All it took was one person to have a similar description of that car and they would be coming for me.

Jacques was able to calm me down on our way to practice. He even went as far as telling me the driver of the other car was still alive and in the hospital.

It eased my anxiety but I was still distracted throughout practice. I just wanted to get the meeting over with. Them expelling me was the least of my worries with being jailed my most pressing fear.

We drove from the practice field to the Vice Provost’s office. It was the longest drive of my life. I was now sweating profusely.

We walked into the office and the dean was sitting in the seat to the left, our coach standing behind the provost and the police chief standing in the corner to our right.

The Vice Provost from behind his seat asked us to sit down and asked us if we knew why we were there. We nodded.

He then said,

“The police want to investigate and Jerome, they want you to come downtown with them.”

I dropped my head. I was in pain. My heart was aching and breaking as the pain and regret tore me apart. I was about to get up from my seat to leave with the officer when Jacques spoke and said

“I was the one driving. Take me in”

I turned around shocked and scared. This was my brother. I didn’t want him to take the fall for me. I couldn’t let him do it.

I was about to say something when he glared at me and repeated

“I was driving too fast. I think the person ran his light too but I should have seen him coming. It was my fault”

The police chief looked at him confused and suddenly realized that he was taking the fall for me. The chief asked

“Are you sure? Do you know what you’re doing here, son?”

Jacques nodded and kept his head up straight. I was in shock.

“How could he do this?”

All he had worked so hard for could go down the drain and he didn’t want me to talk. I was in the dark as to what he was thinking but he seemed to have it figured out. The Vice Provost looked at the coach who had this terrified and confused look on his face. He then asked us to excuse them. We stepped out to the lobby and I immediately went off raising my voice

“What the fuck did you just do in there????

Are you trying to get expelled????

Why did you do that?”

I had all these questions I was yelling at Jacques while Jacques postured and barked back

“Are you trying to get expelled?

How would your mother feel?

Would she be able to take it???”

I pulled back and began to recognize that this could be bigger than me. I covered my mouth with my right hand and took a few steps backwards and sat on the bench. Jacques came and sat next to me. He placed his right hand around my shoulder and said,

“You are my brother. I already thought this through. I am the best player on that team and this town wants to win a Championship. This is the closest they have come in a while. They will not allow their best player go down. They won’t do it. So you don’t have to worry. I got you.”

I looked up to him as if he was an angel sent from heaven and at that moment he was. I placed my head on his shoulder.

He was right. We left that evening with no problems. They came and towed my car away for “investigation” and nothing ever came of it. I didn’t play that weekend because the coach knew exactly what had transpired. Jacques played and killed it as usual. I was let off the hook there. I could not believe it but I got nothing and Jacques only got his license suspended for 6 months.

I was grateful for this man and I continued to pray that God give me an opportunity to pay him back. I was able to stay in school and keep my scholarship. We never spoke of that day and years have gone by.


As fate would have it, I got a chance to repay Jacques back for “saving my life” a few weeks later.

It was 3 days before the Championship Bowl game. And Jacques called me and said he could not play. I was shocked and I asked why. It was the week leading up to the biggest game in our college careers and the closest our school had come to a title in a long time. He needed to play.

“What happened?”

I asked him. He went on to narrate that he had been at party the night before when this girl he was trying to have sex with that night talked him into trying a drug. IT was supposed to be the new thing on the college scene. I know he knew better than that so I asked if he was drunk when she asked him to try it. He said he was.

Now as it was customary before a deciding game like this, the game’s governing body usually tested all the players. Sometimes they tested them right after.

Jacques not one to panic, was about to lose his shit. He was already let off the hook for my incident; he for sure could not go down like that over a stupid mistake. He had looked up the drug and realized two of the ingredients were on the list of drugs athletes were banned from taking.

It was my plan that came about the leg breaking incident on the day of the game. It was contingent on the team not being tested till after the game. We hoped that it would be one of those games where we would get tested after.

The plan was that during the game, we would run the play and intentionally run the same lane, allow him to get tackled but before he could get up. I would run and step on his leg hoping to badly bruise or even break his tibia or fibula. It was a dangerously painful plan and one that required us to rely on so many other factors. Not being tested, one of us being tackled early on the play and then us losing the game because would all be a waste.

Like I mentioned before, we both played that game and the plan went almost without a hitch except I ran and completely missed his leg and ruptured his Achilles. It had to be operated on and Jacques was in a tremendous amount of pain, he was under observation at the hospital and there was no urine sample taken for his testing as the whole city celebrated the win and mourned the loss of one of the star players at the same time. It was the perfect distraction.

In both incidents, only Jacques and I knew what we had done. Those secrets defined the rest of our lives. Because Jacques was not a cokehead, the drugs were out of his system within a week. He got a substantial insurance payout from school and the game’s governing body because he was ruled out of playing football again, which meant he didn’t go pro.

We had each other’s backs, we always did. So the wedge and lack of trust that had come between us now was confusing and I was not sure how to get past it but it needed to be dealt with or it was going to break us. It was funny the curveball life had thrown at us after everything we had been through was his sister or so I thought.

I called up Tasha and told her about the whole thing without going into details or specifics. I asked her to call her brother and talk to him about us because I wasn’t sure I could do it at the time because of how angry I was at him. She understood and said she would take care of it. It was her brother and even though he was “mine” too, she had the same blood as him. I hoped he would listen.

.     .     .     .     .     .


SLS by PartyNextDoor

Tasha and I were rebuilding our relationship but I was still not giving her all of me. The things I had seen on her phone made it much harder to give in and let go of myself.

We had been hanging out a lot lately and this particular night, she came over and she was making dinner in the kitchen.

I walked in and leaned on dishwasher, which was on the opposite side of the kitchen from the stove. I stared at her body and I could feel my member start to rise between my legs but that was not why I was there.

I called out her name and began to speak,

“Tasha, I went through your phone that day you first came back to my house and saw the messages from Jacques and that’s what led to our fight”

She turned and looked somewhat relieved that it was all I saw. I continued,

“why would he say that?

What did you tell him for him to say that?”

She didn’t let me talk. She turned the burner off and walked over to me. She whispered in my ear while grabbing a hold of my shaft and rubbing the head. She said,

“You sound tense baby. Let me fix that for you”

I so badly wanted to continue the conversation but she had a hold on me. Her eyes. The way she looked at me. There was something there. She dropped down into a squatting position and pulled my shorts down to my ankles. She stared at my hardening member as she stroked it from head to base. She looked up at me and it stood straight. Fuck!

She pulled down her blouse to give me full view of her bosom. It was beautiful as always. She then slid her hand down her dress and began to feel on her wetness. A few seconds later, her hand reappeared. She looked up at me maintaining eye contact as her hand traveled to her mouth. She placed her fingers in her mouth and sucked on them, licking her juices off while closing her eyes to highlight the satisfaction she got from the process. My dick twitched in her right hand grip. She opened her eyes and smiled. She slowly parted her lips and took my now throbbing member inside her warm mouth.

It felt like magic. I forgot what I was mad about.

She knew was she was doing. It was sloppy and dirty. She worked both hands up and down my shaft, alternating between stroking, sucking and gargling my balls in her mouth. It was only a matter of time before I was going to let it all loose. She was ready for it too. She moved her left hand back under her dress and moaned as she sucked and fingered herself. I was going insane. The she stopped soaking her fingers in her wetness and concentrated on making me cum. Her lips clamped down on my shaft as my shaft slid in and out. She used her left hands to roll my balls in her hand. I went silent and she knew what was coming. So she sucked harder. I began to grunt. Trying to hold it all in. She wouldn’t let me and then it happened. All in her mouth, she took the load of my warm homeless seed. She got up and licked her lips and moved her left hand back under her dress. She soaked it in her juices and then moved the hand out and placed it in my mouth. I closed my eyes and licked her fingers. I wanted all of her juices. She wasn’t having it.

She still had my now softening dick in her right hand. She began to stroke it as she used it to pull me towards the room.

“Come here let me clean that up for you”

She said as she directed me towards my bedroom. She pushed me onto the bed. That act alone and my dick began to harden. She climbed on the bed and sucked on it a few times getting in semi hard. She stood the bed and lowered her juice box onto my shaft. It felt wet. It was really wet and somewhat reminiscent of a floodgate opening. I grabbed onto the sheets as she bounced up and down on top of me. I clamped my legs together hoping to not end this session quickly but she was that good. I could feel my wet balls covered in her wetness hitting the back on her perfectly rounded ass. Her smile of satisfaction as she knew she had me on the ropes was driving me deeper and deeper into some mixture of love and lust for her.

I could feel it coming up and then she asked me

“are you going to cum for me baby?”

any man knows what that question would do for him and any woman asking her man that during sex knows what she’s doing and the reaction she’s hoping to get. I clutched tighter and tried to take my mind to another place to avoid cumming then. And then it happened, she asked me in her softest voice,

“cum for me baby, please cum for me”

Who was I to deny the woman I loved the satisfaction of pleasuring me? The rest was a formality. I did not restrain myself as I squealed and exploded inside her. She smiled and continued riding for few more minutes and then she got off. She stood by the side of the bed as I tried to catch my breath. She pulled her dress down and said,

“Let me go and finish your food but I’m definitely getting mine tonight”

Referring to her climaxing. I nodded as she started to walk out of the room and then I remembered why I was upset in the kitchen to begin with. I asked

“Tasha, did you talk to your brother like I asked?”

She turned back and with a guilty and manipulative look on her face like a daughter who has her father wrapped around her right finger she said,

“No I haven’t”

and immediately walked out.

I turned over on the bed upset all over again and stared out the window. We were all traveling to Jules’s house in two days on the East Coast for his birthday and promotion party and I knew Jacques was going to be there.

This woman had succeeded in putting me in another difficult situation and she just walked out. I thought to myself. This could all go really bad, very quick.


I cussed under my breath. SCARRED 3 is the 50th post on this blog!!! You DEFINITELY HAVE TO COMMENT. COME ON!!! Do IT!!!


“Who is wielding the blade? There’s blood but we don’t see the cuts yet.”


Give me feedback. How did this make you feel? Talk to me about Scarred 2. COMMENT!!! 

The End

Follow @adewus4real

Thank you for reading, sharing and commenting. You are highly appreciated. 

Lookout for Part 4 of Scarred next week and #WordsofWednesday on Wednesday.

© 2014 #WhatTheHeckMan

#WordsofWednesday · Art · Drama · Life · Poetry · Uncategorized





Follow @adewus4real You’ll only regret it when I get heartbroken 


Try by TAY

I should have fought harder

I messed up

My intentions were good

And I never meant to fuck up

Now I’m standing at this crossroad

My heart making it’s final distress call

I’ve shed all the tears my eyes were willing to give

They’ve swollen from how much they’ve had to bawl

You are my heart

My world

I always expected that you and I would weather every storm

I am vulnerable and humble

Because watching you leave would see my whole world crumble

I changed and got carried away

I look at this new guy and it drives me insane

I had my hand on the pulse of what made you happy

I couldn’t believe a day I wouldn’t be able to call you baby

There is still hope

However little left

I’m willing to keep on the fight till my last breath

You might not understand what it means to have you

But understand this

Till tomorrow I haven’t found anyone like you

It’s taken me this long to realize you are the one

But I’m willing to do everything in my power to let the fire burn

I’m asking for one last chance to say yes

My pride and my fears

I’ve seen are baseless

You found me out when no one knew me

You pissed me off without warning

And it was cool to me

I don’t want to lose you

I hope you know

And if I ever failed

It was because the true love I have for you

I didn’t show

Here I am

Freezing in this cold

The only thing burning are the candles that spell your name in bold

Forgive me and let me make you happy again

Forgive me for the horrible things I said

I’m ready to be the one you truly adore

But please don’t let this fire burn out

One by one

Everything won’t be easy

If I said it would

That would be a lie

All I’m asking from you

Can you please try?


Sometimes it’s not forgetting or failing to realize how important what you have is that can be the problem but not doing enough to hold on to it when it’s slipping away.

“Try” was written by me to speak to the struggles of relationships I have that are either toxic or invaluable. We all have a variety of those but which ones can you not live without and what are you doing to keep them. I have let many “leave” my life this year because I was dealing with a significant amount of depression and the consequences of some of the mistakes I made but time passed and I held on to that which is important to me. I don’t know what you have right now in your life that needs the extra push, it’s needs a bit more effort, more dedication, it needs that “I’m sorry”. Reach out and TRY. It’s the best you can do and the only way to ensure regret doesn’t ruin you.

Thank you.

Give me feedback, please. COMMENT!!! 

The End

Follow @adewus4real

Thank you for reading and commenting. You are highly appreciated. 

Lookout for Scarred 3 this Saturday.

© 2014 #WhatTheHeckMan

Art · Drama · Erotica · Fiction · Life · Sex · Uncategorized

Scarred 2

Scarred 2

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“It might not even bleed but it could hurt the most”

Follow @adewus4real You’ll only regret it when I get heartbroken 


Eyé Àdabà by Asa

I had to keep the faith that I wasn’t going to be blind. It was tough to do when I was given only a 13% chance of seeing with both eyes again. It was terrifying and I could not have gotten through those days without the help of my sister.  She was everything to me throughout that period. She would leave and I could always bank on her coming back to be by my side. I still can’t count how many days she spent at my bedside while I was in the hospital. She would come in the evening and work on her own stuff while she turned on audiobooks or music for me to listen to.

In a real period of literal and emotional darkness in my life, she was a beaming light.

The days got harder and harder as they passed by.

With each passing day, I would wonder if she thought about me. I still could not make sense of it all.

Why did she not come?

Nights in the hospital were the hardest. I was slowly getting better physically and gaining more strength in my limbs but my heart still hurt and I wasn’t sure how to put a stop to it.

The surgery came and I was nervous. I remember my sister being with me and holding my hand a few hours before.

“Jerome, it’s going to be fine. I promise.

I’ll be here when you get out”

She said.

Her words were reassuring but they were still only words.

Ever been in a situation where someone you loved was telling you it was going to be okay, even when they didn’t seem to believe it?

She was scared and I couldn’t see her face but I could tell that she was terrified. She was just trying to stay strong for me like I would have for her and I truly appreciated that.

She was there till they wheeled me away into the OR, letting go of my hand right before the door. I remember lying under the lights that focused on me. I could hear the sparks inside the wires connected to them buzzing as the electricity flowed through them.

I remember feeling like I was going to see again. It felt like it was just a matter of opening my eyes wide and the pictures would come in. I began to imagine the places I wanted to go and the things I wanted to see in the world should I be able to again.

I was thinking of the Great Wall of China, being on a Safari out in Malawi or skiing the Alpines in Aspen. I wanted to take in the world!

I was taking it all in and then I felt the anaesthetic hit and then sleep followed. I was out.

I woke up about 7 hours later with my eyes still covered but the doctor was there to deliver some of the best news I had received in a long time.

“Sir, the surgery went well; better than we expected. We were able to remove majority of the pieces of glass in your left eye and we expect a full recovery there. We are not sure about your right eye just yet but it seems like there might be some vision there and it might not be a full capture of things you see but you may still be able to see out of it.”

He paused to make sure I heard everything and to let my sister take it all in.

“We are still concerned about your right eye. The most delicate shard of glass is still in a very serious position but the nerve is sending signals to your brain again, so we are sure it is functioning. In the meantime till we re-evaluate, no physical or strenuous activity. No contact sports and no outrageous manly things. Just taking it easy, okay?”

 “Okay doc. Thank you”

I responded and thanked him as he left the room. My sister was dancing around the room and singing. I couldn’t help but smile. It was like God decided to have mercy on me.

I was going to see the world again. But I wasn’t ready for the scars I would see.

.     .     .     .      . 

My health insurance offered me different kinds of therapy to deal with recovering from the incident.

I was still very depressed and quite upset about feeling abandoned by people I considered my family. So I began seeing a therapist.

It was in therapy that I knew how much Jacques and Tasha not being there really hurt me. Talking about my feelings helped me recognize that I was more hurt than I realized. I was convinced Tasha had another man in her life. It was the only logical explanation for her behaviour.

Jacques and I had seen things together. Like the types of things we had seen and done together were the type that if one of us snitched to the authorities, we could end up in jail. We were that close. So to find out that he only came to see me in the hospital one time was a very hard pill to swallow. One particular incident surrounding that championship game and the week leading up to it, brought us so much closer than we ever were. I was truly let down by them both but I they weren’t blood so I guess that always left the possibility that they could turn on me at some point or under the “right” circumstances.

I was leaving therapy one evening when I felt this barrage of memories shared with Tasha flooding into my head. The one that stood out the most was the day I realised I was in love with her and that I was going to do right by her no matter what it took.

It was a hot Saturday evening, I arrived at the park down the street from her house 5 minutes ahead of the time I had actually told her to be ready.

I called her feeling like she might be late and of course late she was.

“Are you ready?”

I asked with a slight tone.

“Ummm… nooo”

she responded in her baby voice she used whenever she wanted to get away with something

 “I’m just putting on finishing touches. I’ll be down in a minute”

she concluded with.

I clicked the phone and hung up. A minute turned to 20 minutes and we were now running late. I was upset. Not entirely at her but myself.

How could I think she would be ready in time?

How many of you know any women that actually get ready on time? It’s always something with them from making sure they comb the nappy hairs under their weaves to ensuring their ankles aren’t ashy; they always run late.

She walked out of her house in a stunning red dress. I had to catch myself. I was trying to stay angry that she made us late but I knew it wasn’t going to work.

She got into the car and said hi with a smile on her face. She knew I was upset.

Staying quiet for a few miles as I drove, she touched my shoulder and I turned towards her. All she did was whisper,

“I’m sorry”

and I was gone. I was so weak for her. Women are experts at using their “assets” spoken and silent to get men feeling some type of way.

We arrived at the club where my friend was performing his new music. It was small and intimate. We greeted him and sat in the middle of the floor with enough space between the stage and us. We could take in the performance but not be overwhelmed by the sound.

Dinner followed shortly after the show at a restaurant down the street. It was mellow and just an open conversation as we joked and laughed through our meals. I hated what I ordered continuing my trend of ordering wrong and she was willing to share her food with me. I couldn’t stop smiling at everything she did. I kept thinking to myself about how wrong people were about her. She was amazing.

Recognize ft. Drake by PartyNextDoor


We left dinner and began driving back to her place so I could drop her off when she asked if we could stop at the store to grab some wine. And I obliged.

I was under her spell as she waltzed through the aisles and we joked in the near empty 24-hour grocery store. She knew where the wine was right when we walked in but she was just enjoying spending the night with me in the silliest way.

There was no line at the checkout and we were just being nuisances as we headed to the car.

The drive was chill. She had her legs on the dashboard as I drove and music played out the windows.

We headed to our “spot”. It was by the levy overlooking the water.

The city lights lit up the water from afar and it was always a magical sight at night. I pulled up to the side with my car facing the water.

The music was playing slowly in the background as we just talked. I can’t remember what led to it but we began kissing. In the middle of it, I saw some lights headed towards my car.


I stopped as a security guard pulled up next to my car.

The cabin of the car was dark, so I turned on the inner lights so he could see.

“I’m not supposed to let anyone park here overnight”

he said.

I smiled and responded,

“We’re not parking here overnight bro. We’re just taking in the view and talking. We’ll leave soon”

he said okay and headed on his way.

Out of nowhere Tasha grabbed my shirt and pilled me in for a very hot kiss. I was taken aback.

“What was that for?”

I asked.

She looked at me with a sly smile on her face and said,

“you just looked so sexy talking to him. I had to kiss those lips…”

I smiled, thanked her for the compliment and leaned back in my seat. And then she said,

“How cool would it be if we had sex right here, right now?”

I was surprised. I thought I was the freak in the relationship


I began to respond, visibly caught off guard by the question. And then she cut me off.

“Do you still have that blanket in your trunk?”

I nodded and she continued,

“Can you please get it and fuck me on the hood of your car?”

My balls shriveled up. My shaft straightened. My senses woke up.  My eyes grew bigger.

“Are you sure you want to have sex here with Tommy the Security guy driving around?

I joked.

“Have I ever complained about having an audience before?”

She was referring to the night we had sex in the park by her parent’s house and some folks were playing on the play structure.

I turned off the car and opened the trunk. I hopped out and she followed.

I walked to the front of the car with the blanket in my hand and laid it on the hood, using the windshield wipers as clips to hold the two top corners down.

I turned around and she kissed me. She wanted this, I could tell.

She leaned back onto the hood of the car that was very hot at the time. It must have warmed up the blanket. She climbed up as I knelt down and spread her legs. I slowly pulled her panties down and tossed them upward onto the windshield.

I kissed her inner thighs towards her pink. I softly kissed her lower lips as they kissed me back moistly. I began to work my tongue around her clit without maintaining pressure on it. She knew what I was going for. I wanted to make her beg for it as she got super wet.

I could tell she wanted more. So I parted her lips and stuck my tongue inside. The taste of her fresh wetness had me lapping up for more. I was slurping while trying to ensure I didn’t miss anything and I was failing as her juices flowed onto my beard and drenched them.

The feel of her lips on my lips and her juices on my chin were causing my shaft to stand firm.  And then she stopped me and turned around. On her fours, on the hood of my car, she poked her ass in the air and slowly said,

“I want you to eat me like this”

A woman that can ask for what she needs when it comes to sex will stay winning. She got a little wetter and just like you guys, I got much harder.

I leaned in and bent my knees to come down to her level and I grabbed her ass cheeks and spread them. I shoved my tongue into the warmth of her soaked lips. She moaned as she grabbed the blanket. I was low behind with my face shoved between her cheeks that I could not see her face. Her moans sent the message clearly though.

I was struggling to breathe as her still flowing juices covered my nostrils, my lips, my chin and all over my beard but I was not going to quit. She reached back and pushed my head inwards. I took it as a license to stick my tongue deeper inside her.

I stood up and dropped my pants. Slapping the head of my shaft on her clit, I slowly slid into her. It was so hot in there.

Covering up my shaft with each stroke, she was really wet. She grabbed onto the sheets with both hands as I slid in and out. It felt amazing and I had to use all the will power I had to not bust that early one. I began to think about random things like my phone bill and Nascar while maintaining my stroke.

Her moans continued to bring me back to the present though.

I was picking up the pace and thrusting deeper while grabbing her waist. The way she moaned made it impossible for me to even think of lasting much longer. I knew it was only a matter of time before I let loose.

The breeze blew by occasionally, freezing up my ball sack as I continued to go deeper. I leaned forward and kissed her back as I picked up the pace. She knew what was about to happen and then she said,

 “Fuck me harder, fuck me!”

There was something about her saying that, that always drove me insane. I knew I wanted to give her more but her juicebox was so good, I only hoped I could get seconds. The men out there know what I mean.

I was thrusting harder now and she was moaning all sorts but what stood out the most was right before I was about to cum when she said

 “Do not fucking cum! Keep fucking me! Harder!!!”

Now any guy in the world knows that hearing that is just going to send him off the edge. I clenched my butt cheeks as I thrust and hoped I could ride out that wave without cumming. I failed. A few thrusts later as her ass slapped back onto my pelvis, I pulled out. A few more tugs and it was all over the floor.

She got off and gave me this super warm kiss while stroking my shaft and then she did the craziest thing. She dropped down on her knees and took my semi hard member into her mouth. The sensation was crazy!

I wanted to push her head off but she bit gently to let me know that doing that was not in my best interest. It was safe to say she sucked me dry. Then she got up. Put her panties on and then pulled her dress up. She looked at me and said,

“We have to finish part two on the my new carpet”

I pulled my pants up and smiled. I knew I had to keep this woman for good. She had me.

.      .       .       .       .      .

 The boredom was the hardest thing when I returned home. I was advised to not watch too much television. I couldn’t create designs for new watches on my computer because they involved sharp colors and of course a computer screen. I was forced to continue to read books and listen to music.

I also returned to walking. I would take walks down to the creek by my house to help clear my head or just get some fresh air from being cooped up in a house all day.

This particular day, I had walked over to the creek. The sun was out and beaming down on me. My back was burning in the heat as I backed the sun and my house. The weeds over the creek were dried as the summer continued to heat up the entire place. I took in the sight of some birds and a couple walking their dog before heading back home.

I was returning from the creek and the sun, which was behind me when I was there, was now in front of me. The orange and yellow texture of the sun was strong as the sun continued to rear its head from behind the houses and refusing to set. I couldn’t see down the street but I just knew the sun was setting in front of me and blinding me.

I arrived at the front of the house and stopped for a second to check the mailbox. Nothing new. There were just a few coupons from local stores.

I let myself into the house and headed to the kitchen. I stood in front of the refrigerator with my cup and I pushed down on the lever and ice cubes began falling into my cup. They were making some noises and I couldn’t tell but I thought I heard a knock on the door. I continued putting the water into the cup.

I think I must have rushed the water I was drinking.

Brain freeze.

But my brain registered this sound. It was a knock at the door.

I walked to the door and assumed it was my sister returning and probably just being lazy and not wanting to use her key. I opened it without looking through the peephole. I held the door open with my right hand as the sunlight flooded my naked eyes. I was shocked.

It was Tasha.

It was dead silent for about a minute and then she asked,

“Can I please come in?”

I didn’t respond. I turned around and headed for the couch.

She walked in and shut the door behind her. She walked over to seat across from me in her heels and fitted black top. My pent up anger towards her suddenly turned to brief attraction. Like I just wanted to lay her across the coffee table and ravage her clit but I contained myself.

Her voice was still as silky as ever. I melted when she stated talking.

“Jerome, I want to start by saying I’m sorry”

I huffed.

I wasn’t accepting her apology, especially not a lame one.

“I won’t sit here and make excuses. I fucked up. I should have been by your side through it all. It was overwhelming for me. I didn’t know what was expected of me in that situation. I had never experienced a near death situation like that before. I panicked.”

I was now irritated. And I responded packed with attitude,

 “You panicked for over 5 months?! That’s your excuse?

That’s a bullshit excuse and you know it because if it was me, you could bet your life I would have been right next to you when you woke up. So please spare me the fucking excuses and just stop!”

My breathing was shorter and I could feel myself sweating a bit. I was getting heated.

She bowed her head as she attempted to answer. She actually seemed sorry and for a woman who rarely apologized for anything, I was a bit surprised she was doing this.

 “Jerome, you have every right to be mad at me. And to clarify, I was coming for a while till before the 3rd month off and on. I was there sometimes. A lot just happened in my life after and it was heavy stuff so I wasn’t sure how to deal with it all. You have every right to be mad at me and in fact never talk to me again. I just hope you can forgive me for not being by your side like you would have been by my side”

Like I said before, I had a huge weakness for this woman. I had been with quite a few women before but not a single one floored me like her. It was surprising that just her voice had gotten me already.

Frankly, I had forgiven her the moment I opened the door. I loved her. Like truly but I wasn’t about to give in easily, so I faked being mad some more and replied her,

 “You were there sometimes?! I have always been there from day one for you and your brother. And your brother only came once too?! Like wtf? And you’re here looking for me to forgive you? Who does that?

You played your hand by not being there and I would appreciate it, i you just left me alone”

My fake performance seemed to be working. She seemed to feel like she was losing me. So she got up and walked towards me. She placed her phone, which was in her hand on the table inches in front of my legs.

She placed her hand on my lap while I held my breath.

It was that moment when you are trying to stay mad at your partner you clearly have a weakness for and they touch you. Wall of Jericho falleth!

She looked me in my eyes and said,

“Jerome there is so much we have to talk about and work on but I want you to know that I love you deeply and I am sorry”

I sighed and didn’t respond. I couldn’t. I didn’t know what to say. I was glad she was here and I knew there was more explaining to be done but I was willing to let it go for the moment. She leaned in and kissed my cheek very close to my ear. It tickled and I smiled.

She got up and walked to the bathroom.

A few seconds after the door closed behind her. Her phone buzzed and then it buzzed again. I was looking at it resisting the urge to check it but I also wanted to. What has kept her away that long? Another man?

I wanted to find out but I wanted to be secure in myself as a man. But it was right there?!

“She wouldn’t know”

I thought to myself.

I looked at it one more time. My hand itched.


I reached for it and tapped on the screen and opened it.

The messages that had come were from her brother, Jacques.

It read


I could not believe my eyes. Was that why she stayed away? Jacques?!

What reason could he have for portraying me to be a bad guy to his sister? I might have been an asshole before but I had never shown any signs of hurting his sister. What The Heck Man!

Tasha walked out of the bathroom and towards me. She noticed a look on my face. She said,

“Everything okay?”

I looked up at her and leaned back in my seat. I flashed a smile and said,

 “Everything is great.”


“Revenge sometimes seems the sweetest but to get it, you might have to bleed some more first.”

                                                                                                                                   – @adewus4real

Give me feedback. How did this make you feel? Talk to me about Scarred 2. COMMENT!!! 

The End

Follow @adewus4real

Thank you for reading, sharing and commenting. You are highly appreciated. 

Lookout for Part 3 of Scarred next week and #WordsofWednesday on Wednesday.

© 2014 #WhatTheHeckMan



#WordsofWednesday · Art · Life · Poetry · Uncategorized



 Follow @adewus4real the writer on Twitter 

The variations and the parallels are endless

The things and ways we remain similar will leave you speechless

I’ve met certain from which the encounter has left me breathless

But others I’ve met and realized that many people remain tasteless

See I’ve betrayed trust and I’ve let folks down

I’ve forgotten values and in many ways I’ve let doubt abound

Easily it comes in and shatters relationships

It puts them in a chokehold and slowly strangles the life out of them

Now we all lay lifeless and hurt from all the drama and bullshit


Hurt is one conversation I don’t want to revisit


The heart of man is desperately wicked the bible says

And I swear that plays out in unique situations everyday

Men stab men in their faces

Women aren’t too far behind in the races

See we can say our parents and the generation before us taught us better

But the truth is

Did anyone really bother?

From coups to stolen husbands

To deaths just to acquire more bands we are a lost few

Righteous today but we fade quickly like the morning dew


Did you ever understand how easy it is to lose your way?

How quickly the plot gets lost in the day to day

Some of us camp on Twitter all day

Looking for our next prey

We stalk the TL’s

Trying to pick fights from the latest dumb shit bae said today

The slander is endless

A new victim everyday

But the true victim most cases is you

Because it’s you who failed to stay true


The person you portray to the world

Should be the same across the board

Regardless of the location

Your true identity to should have no variations

But we change

And let our morals and ethics go

As we drift out of range

I’m not immune don’t get me wrong

I wrote this with a heavy heart

But so my name could be on your tongue

I swear if I could sing my feelings I would put them in a song

But the truth remains

You’ll only hear me for how long??


My heart has been broken from friends to friends

I said that twice because the difference is not clear

They are some people you’ll always go to bat for

But those are the ones you pray never ever hurt you at all

Sad to say but they are the ones that can hurt you where you can call

For help or even a reason to again stand tall

Never underestimate your influence before you mane a friend fall

Like me here crying my feelings while curled up into a ball


I heard someone I loved say horrible things about me

It broke my heart

But I only blame myself because I should have known from the start

This life is not a game

But someone has to lose and it’s a shame

I only ask that you never forget my name

Because broken hearted preventing your hurt will be my only aim

I plan on remaining the same

Truthful as possible and not on the losing side in this game

Now with this feelings I might rise to fame

But please be a true friend and always help me stay the same


I’ve never set out to hurt anyone

But I have been hurt a lot

Repeatedly in situations when betrayal or hurt was an afterthought

I don’t expect you to understand but I know you do

But you might relate if the same things has happened to you

I write this in the dark of my heart

Waiting for a spark

It’s hard to hold faith

When your heart is repeatedly torn apart.

#WhatTheHeckMan Written in my car.

Sometimes people without warning place their hearts in our hands. It is our job to keep it safe. Guarded from the problems and trials of life as best as we can. You are responsible for many you don’t even realize. Never betray the trust of someone, no matter how minute it might be. You don’t know what door you might close forever if you open the wrong wounds.

PART 2 OF SCARRED BELOW… Comes out on Saturday. Watch OUT!!!

Give me feedback. How did this make you feel? COMMENT!!! 

The End

Follow @adewus4real

Thank you for reading and commenting. You are highly appreciated. 

© 2014 #WhatTheHeckMan

Art · Drama · Erotica · Fiction · Life · Sex · Uncategorized




 Follow @adewus4real the writer on Twitter 


Don’t by Ed Sheeran

All I had on were my socks.

It was dark and I was trying to find my foot.

It was hot too and kind of small. I was trying to fit.

I couldn’t get enough space to fit my upper body. And I tried to wiggle it in.

There were a few rays of light coming in.

There was just something about dark and tight spaces that got to me. I never felt comfortable in them. I was always trying to break free.

But this time I realized I couldn’t and so I wasn’t even trying to break free. I just let myself go. I had come this far and all I could do was let myself go.

It wasn’t about what I felt was wrong or right but more about what had to happen.

I felt this feeling in my stomach. It was the type you got when a police car’s light goes off behind you but you know you haven’t done anything wrong.

You still get a little nervous first right?


It was that same feeling you get in your stomach. You almost can’t control it. You just have to fall victim to the emotion as it courses through you.

I squeezed tighter. I couldn’t let go.

I couldn’t let the feeling slip. I didn’t want to because I didn’t know what came next. The uncertainty.

I slowly pulled back. I gasped for air, which we had used up in that tiny closet. It was then the emanating smell of musty socks hit and burned the hairs in my nostrils.

I looked down at her. She was looking up at me.

Her butt cheeks still firmly in my large hands, I smiled and leaned in.

Closing my eyes, I felt her lips on mine. Soft and smooth, something about their pouty nature had me wanting more. Her lips took my lips into hers as she sucked. I squeezed her butt tighter. She loved how I enveloped her.

And then break. I looked at her and said,

“ Tasha: How long are we going to keep hiding like this? I just want to tell him already. He’s my best friend. He deserves to know. It’s been two months and we keep sneaking behind his back. Look we are hiding out in his closet during his birthday party. It doesn’t feel right keeping this from him. He’s my best friend…”

“He’s my brother…”

she responded, squeezing my hand a little tighter and then continuing;

“We are still trying to figure this all out and I am crazy about you but what if he’s not ready. What if we’re not ready? I don’t think I’m ready yet. I’m really nervous baby.”

She bowed her head down in disappointment. I released her left ass cheek from my right hand and I lifted up her chin. With a warming smile I said,

“It’s okay sweetie. Don’t be nervous. I won’t rush. I’ll wait till you’re ready and then we can tell him. Take your time beautiful. Okay?”

She nodded and flashed a smile. I felt her lips touch mine as I gave her a kiss. She was beautiful even in the darkness.

“You go out first, I’ll be out in a second”

I said to her. She smiled again and opened the closet door and headed back into the crowded apartment condo; her older brother’s house warming and birthday party.

The light briefly rushed into the stuffy closet and the banging bass of the music followed closely behind.

I leaned back into the side of the closet and onto the wall. I let out a huge sigh.

Her brother was going to kill me. He was going to kill me.

I had to say it to myself again. I thought to myself about what I was doing. I wasn’t doing anything wrong per se but he deserved to know. He was my best friend.

I had been warned to stay away from her. But how many times have we been told to stay away from something but we don’t until it burns and scars us?

I was going to treat her different. I wasn’t going to break her heart. I just hoped she didn’t fuck with mine first.

 .     .     .     .     .

There was nothing in the world I wouldn’t do for my brothers; Jules and Jacques.

Jules was from North Carolina and Jacques was from DR Congo but his family moved out to Atlanta when he was 12. We were teammates, turned best friends and turned brothers. Jules was the super muscle, Jacques was fast and I was the brain. I was always thinking steps ahead for the benefit of us all.

Somehow we all ended up in Arizona to play football for our college. Jules was on the defensive end of things while Jacques and I battled for the same tight end position. We hated each other that first summer we spent out there at camp but funny enough that was how we became close.

We were both really good players, blessed with an abundance of speed. We pushed each other. We hated each other as competing players for the same spot but we respected each other also. I wanted the spot and he wanted it just as bad.

We continued to go back and forth for the entire camp, switching on our aggression and determination on the field and being relaxed off it. It wasn’t until the coach let us know about 3 weeks into the season that he was keeping both of us for the season that we warmed up to each other.

Jacques was converted to an out wide receiver. The kid was fast and he had those long Congolese hands. He was for sure the hit of the team. Put anything in and around his wingspan and you could count on him to snatch it out of the air. With his speed, his jumping ability and his willingness to learn out, coach turned him into the most devastating wide receiver on the West Coast.

We ripped teams those two years we played together. I played my tight end position and I was glad we played on the team together. I was amazed at how he caught whatever was thrown his way. Whenever the plays weren’t run for me, I watched in awe of how good he was. It was only a matter of time before he was given the nickname “Octopus” because he caught everything and held on tight.

The name rung true because it was also the same way he was with girls. Reel them in, hold on tight to as many as he wanted at a time. Highest I counted in college was six at one time. Yeah, he was the real MVP.


I had met his younger sister Tasha one time while in college. His family had come down to watch us win our division title that year after missing out the year before. It was a bittersweet experience because it was also during that game that Jacques ruptured his Achilles on a bad fall that led to an opponent stomping on him. He was in a lot of pain but he held strong for his family. Jules and I were right by his side.

He caught me chatting up his sister when at his uncle’s house who also lived about 30 minutes from campus. It was his house Jacques stayed at while recovering through the summer when he was in AZ and then the beginning of the school year.

That fall was the end of Jacques footballing career, as the explosive speed he had was never recovered. His nous for the game never left but his biggest asset was gone.

He had a hard time but he channeled his hurt into his chemical engineering. It was one of the best decisions he ever made.

His family left that weekend of the Championship with Jacques repeatedly warning me to stay away from his sister.


Years had passed and he had moved back home but every time I came to visit his parent’s house like at Thanksgiving, he’d remind me that his sister was off limits. He did not want me to date her; although we had secretly been in contact but it was nothing serious.

Tasha and I were alike. Somewhat with reputations; I was called Captain Save-A-Hoe and she was well, sometimes referred to as one needing saving.

I had always cherished my relationship with the other J’s as we called ourselves, so I never truly wanted Tasha or at least made it obvious or pushed for it.

For years I had stayed away from her like her brother had asked but it all got really different when she began to intern with my company.

Lunches together and rides whenever she needed one, over that summer, we got close pretty fast.

And then I got to know her very well; on the inside she was this sweet, caring, confused and often-misunderstood young woman but on the outside she put on the glam for the world from her 3digit likes on Instagram to her popularity in the city. It was all a façade.


We used to play hide and seek a lot all over town while we avoided her friends and I avoided her brother. He had heard things about her like he was supposed to; he put a blinder to repel it all. After all, that was his sister.

It was about 6:30pm that evening when we finally made it to the front of their house. We had just closed off a long working day. She only had about 3 weeks left of her internship and that evening we were just talking.

She began by asking me what kind of woman I liked. I smiled and paused for a second thinking. I pushed the ignition button to turn off the car. The inner lights went on, she tried to hide like a vampire from sunlight.

I sat back in my seat and began to answer,

“Honestly, I just want a simple woman. One that likes to laugh, kick it, watch movies, independent, focused, caring, a good cook because I love my plantains, great body.

*I paused and smiled*

Well you know why and she has to have a round butt. One that can talk back.” 

She had her head down with a smile on her face and then she responded,

“So you basically described me? Well without the butt at least”

I was taken aback not by the fact that she was being modest; she had an amazing butt and body in general but for the fact that she responded that was period.

I smiled and said,

“Well, I guess you can kinda say that”

she smiled back. And slowly looked up at me, it was then, it was then I knew for sure that I wanted her. I forgot everything Jacques had warned me about her.

I had grown fond of her and I really liked her.

It was quiet. A very quiet neighborhood; except for the bullfrogs making annoying noises from the creek behind their house.

I could see her face. She was so beautiful. I had a quick moment to second-guess myself while I paused and I think she thought I was about to chicken out. So she began to motion as if she was about to leave the car. I doubled back and placed my right hand on her left forearm.

Her skin was silky smooth but cold. She stopped and looked at me. Right then, I opened the door to the next series of events that would change everything.

I leaned in, placed my right hand between her neck and her falling hair and placed a soft kiss on her lips. It was short.

I quickly pulled back. She seemed displeased with me. So she leaned in. Grabbed me by my shirt and she kissed me so hard that my bottom lip bled inside. That was how I knew it was real. It felt like she had wanted to do it for a while.

If a woman you love has never kissed and sucked on your lip till it bled. Sigh… I’m sorry for you.

She got out of the car and pulled her pencil skirt down and swayed to the door. She turned around and blew me a kiss. I had caught serious feelings and I could feel my heart racing now. Shit.

She let herself into the house and a few seconds later the outside lights of the house went on. She must have flicked them on. I started my car and the inner lights went on. I pulled down the visor and looked at my bottom lip. There was a bit of blood on the inside. It hurt a bit but I smiled. Something about that turned me on.

It was weird looking at my own blood. If only I knew that I was bound to shed more.

.     .     .     .     .

Life Support by Sam Smith

Shards of glass were flying all over the place.

I closed my eyes as the darkness enveloped my world. I ducked my head down but I must have been too slow.

I could still hear the music blasting through the speakers but the sounds of shattering glass pierced through my ears.

Piece by piece, they rained over my head. They usually tell you that in near death situations your life flashes before your eyes, mine didn’t. Instead I thought about the things I hadn’t gotten to do yet and imagined myself in those places; skydiving, flying a plane, scuba-diving and such.

The “why am I here?” question briefly floated through my head as I tried to ensure that I made it out of there alive.

I felt a hard hit on the crown of my head as it was in a bent position.

Screeching, broken glass, sharp pains, and then it went silent and then black.


It felt tight.

Almost to the point of choking I would say. The voices were faint. I could feel them sailing through the air but not into my ears. It was like I was using my ears for the first time, more importantly, it seemed like it was the only thing working.

I stopped and slowly began to allow my brain to piece things together.

I remembered the glass and being in a car. Putting that together, I remembered the other car and it coming out of nowhere.

I remember putting one hand in front of my cousin because he foolishly wasn’t wearing his seatbelt and I remembered the hit on the bit of my head and upper part of my neck.

My neck.

I signaled to my brain to make contact with my neck. But it was stiff.

In fact, a lot of my body was stiff and in one position; unmovable. Like making calls on the Sprint or MTN networks, my brain hopelessly failed to make contact with parts of my body.

I knew I was lying on my back and the room was brightly lit.

As I decided to give my brain a break from the overtime it was doing trying to make me feel sane, the pain kicked in. I could feel a throbbing in my legs, my left arm was numb and I was stiff.

There was so much I wanted to know. My mind began to race and very quickly it slowed down. I reckoned that because I felt pain in my legs, I wasn’t paralyzed. I feel them; I could feel the numbness in my arms. Sigh. I would be able to walk, I thought to myself.

Imagine trying to figure all this out in a completely dark room. I smacked my lips together and tried to talk. Right then, I felt someone touch me and say my name frantically

“Jerome! Jerome!”

I kept slowly trying to talk while I heard my name even though faintly.

“Jerome! Can you hear me?!”

I slowly began to move my body. And then the voice grew lighter, it went farther away from me. I could still hear what was being said but not clearly.

“Please… some… in…. here!!!”

the person yelled into the hallway. A few minutes later, I could hear more people walk into the room. I figured nurses and maybe doctors.

I could not hear the voice of the original person; it was my baby sister Sonia.

Some voice that I didn’t know said,

“he’s awake” 

I heard my sister say, “Thank you God”.

She was much like my mother. Even though she spoke no English, she worked her ass off to send my sister and I to America to get an education. She was our rock star. She still diligently sent “pocket money” she had been sending since my freshman year in college back in Arizona, it totaled a meager $100. I was averaging 50 times that at my current job as a marketing manager for watch company Magico but she still did it every month just as much as she complained about me going by Jerome in America and not Jibola like she named me. Interestingly, it warmed my heart.

The door opened again and someone walked in. Everyone else went silent. Now I could hear the machines as they beeped in harmony, the voices in the hallway were even more audible now. It was all very strange.


He pronounced my name with his Icelandic accent like it was some cheaply manufactured goat cheese.


“We are glad to have you back with us. How are you feeling? Do you remember anything about that day?”

I shook my head from side to side slowly to signal my answer.

The doctor then began talking,

“You were involved in a terrible accident and you have been in comatose state for a little over 5 months. Some key parts of your body were badly affected and while you have slowly made recoveries, there are still some parts that need more work and surgery…”

The doctor stopped talking as if to wait for my response. I slowly parted my lips. My mouth tasted bitter and my lips were very dry. I stretched them and then I called my sister,


she responded,

“Yes bro”

I gathered myself and swallowed hard before asking,

“Where is Tasha?” 

My sister sighed and said,

“Bro, let’s not worry about that right now. Let’s just focus on how you can now get back up and going” 

I knew my sister. She was deflecting. She knew I was a very straightforward person and I would not ask questions I wasn’t ready for the answer to. I slowly opened my mouth and asked again

“Sonia, when was the last time Tasha was here?”

she knew she couldn’t lie now. It sound like she was sad as she said,

“she hasn’t been here since the second week you were admitted Jerome”

Her words stung. They pierced right through my soul. I just could not believe them but I knew they must have been the truth. My sister would never lie to me. It hurt but I couldn’t find the tears to cry.

How could the woman I loved have left me for months while she was living her life?

I was confused and feeling a sharp pain in my chest. I turned my head away from the voices that were to my left and presumably I was now facing the wall.

I couldn’t think. The doctor called my name a few times and tried to engage me. It didn’t work. I wasn’t having any of it. Why would Tasha abandon me? It made no sense.

I heard the doctor ask me to get some rest as he asked to see my sister in the hallway. I began to pay close attention to what was being said and I heard the doctor say,

“Miss, the latest scans are still not looking good. He has pieces of glass lodged inside his eyes. In particular he has one dangerously large piece sitting right on his optic nerve in his left eye. It is so delicate that it is barely functioning. It is sending signals to his brain but they are very weak. Also, what is more worrisome for us is that his right eye, which was not affected by the accident, is sending no signals to his brain. Essentially, he is blind in his right eye and till we operate on his left eye, he cannot see out of that too. “

I gasped and clutched my bed sheets. I could hear them clearly. My sister words sounded a bit muffled like her hands were covering her mouth and she asked,

“What are the chances after surgery he can see out of his left eye at least?”

The doctor’s tone was more depressed as he said,

“The specialist told me it was only about a 13% chance due to the extremely delicate positioning of the object but we’ll do our possible best.

I tuned out of their conversation. I could not be blind! I had so much to give. I felt like I had so much to live for. This was not fair. This was not supposed to happen this way.

The pain in my chest felt a lot like being stabbed repeatedly in the same spot. I could not contain it anymore. Lying on my side, the tears began to flow into the cloth that was covering my eyes.


It hit hard.

The woman I loved was gone and I could not look into her eyes ever again to take in her beauty or find out why she left. I could never hold my son or daughter and see their first smile or watch them ride a bicycle.

My brain and my eyes might have deserted each other but my heart was speaking to my eyes loud and clear. Its signals were overwhelming; I couldn’t hold back the tears.


“Get ready for another emotional roller-coaster. I promise I won’t leave you badly scarred though. Just wanting more.”

                                                                             – @adewus4real

Give me feedback. How did this make you feel? Talk to me about Scarred 1. COMMENT!!! 

The End

Follow @adewus4real

Thank you for reading and commenting. You are highly appreciated. 

Lookout for Part 2 of Scarred next week and #WordsofWednesday midweek.

© 2014 #WhatTheHeckMan

#WordsofWednesday · Art · Life · Poetry · Uncategorized

I Fell Off

 Follow @adewus4real the writer on Twitter 


Higher by Mali Music

There was a time when looking up to God was how I solved my problems

Now friends have to camp at my house and go on in long conversations to address issues

There was a time when I wasn’t so vain

There was a time when my heart wasn’t in so much pain

I fell off

And life hasn’t let me go

It hasn’t let up

I write this at the moment with a huge headache

Realizing that I drifted too far away

And my new “loves” are causing me heartache


Sweet is the lure of the world

But in it’s heat we burn

And slowly bright futures bake

I won’t say that I’ve become fake

But I have to admit

Realizing I’ve slipped is much harder to take

It’s nice to know now before I self-destruct

Because for the longest time

It felt like a mission I couldn’t abort

Validations I seek from the wrong people

Some might even say I’m in the wrong circle

People and their minds can be so fickle

But you only give them reason to talk

When your backbone seems so brittle

I used to pray more

I used to yearn

For his word and his wisdom

Now I sit in church yawning consumed by boredom

I tithe when it’s convenient

Forgetting it is an essential ingredient

The last time I went to church was because I visited home

I can’t even ask God to abide in me

This is not his home

I used to be humble

Now it seems my pride has caused me to stumble

I learn new things about me everyday that I never expect

I just want God to speak to me again

Live and direct

This journey is not for the weary

And I’ve grown faint

Forgetting the intensity needed to score points in the paint

I realized a while back that I let him down

And now I’m hoping he can take me back

And turn my life around

I cannot predict the future

But I remember his promises for sure

I have fallen off

But I know he never wrote me off

Humbly I come back to you

Cleanse me and start me anew

It doesn’t matter how far you think you’ve fallen

He’ll still hold your hand and take your burden

Will I sin again after this?

Probably yes

But this was my cry for help to him

I had to get this off my chest

Have your way with me Lord

You know what’s best

Give me the grace to follow whole-heartedly

I know you’ll handle all the rest.

Part 2

Recently, I was touched by the amazing story of a friend. The things said person had gone through, made me appreciate my life and the way things have panned out for me. I did not write this latter piece to mock their struggles but to empower them and anyone else out there. No matter what your situation or story is, you are Beautiful.


Beautiful by Mali Music

The days get harder

Plans get cloudy

The future seems father

And you’re more doubtful than when you first planned it

You start to panic

And end up looking manic

Don’t forget the backbone

And cling on tighter to your cornerstone

Cry to him louder

Go francophone

Your time is now

Your frown is about to turn upside down

Believe it

I’m urging you to key into it


To Actualize

We spend so much time trying to strategize

Did factor in how much time God took to analyze



All those plans might never come to pass if your faith dies

So stoke that fire

I bet you

He hears your cry

I’ve see your drive

In any situation

I know you’ll thrive

Forget not your humble beginnings

Let them remind you of what all of this truly means

I’m not a preacher

I’m a sinner

With self doubt

But I know this struggle

And I know what it’s about

His mercies endless about

And your strength and sheer will

Will you pull you through?

NO doubt

The days might get gloomy and wet

But the sun in your life will never set

His eyes are on you

You’re a superstar

Believe it with me

He’ll show you how great you are

Stand strong and have faith

On him alone

Should you wait

Your time is now

His blessings, favor, grace and divine direction

On your life

Will always abound

Time and time again you surprise me

Your dedication to who you are is phenomenal

The pureness of your heart makes you the envy of many

The fact that in the middle of adversity

You let the good in you shine through

Over time I have come to know you

The real you

The one that seeks the best out of every situation

Always optimistic and full of belief

That attitude has propelled you to where you are today

On the cuff of greatness



Inside and out

You have captivated me

You know exactly when to evolve

Taking your all around beauty to the next level

You are the true meaning of beautiful

Because like fine wine

You get better with time

And you remain beautiful inside out.

Without a shadow of doubt

Give me feedback. How did this make you feel? COMMENT!!! 

The End

Follow @adewus4real

Thank you for reading and commenting. You are highly appreciated. 

Lookout for New Series starting this weekend.

© 2014 #WhatTheHeckMan

Art · Drama · Erotica · Fiction · Life · Sex · Uncategorized

Imperfect 4

Imperfect 4


Embedded image permalink

 Follow @adewus4real the writer on Twitter 


Magic by Coldplay

 I stood there and she cried. I didn’t know what to say and I knew apologizing was not going to be the same. It wouldn’t have felt genuine and she hated half apologies. The only source of light still in the room was that which was coming out of my laptop. The light dimmed and then after a few minutes it went dark.

The traffic lights and the beams from the neighbouring buildings now lighted the room. We were both still sobbing but standing at opposite ends of the room. I wasn’t entirely sure why I was crying. I wasn’t sure if it was because she had stumbled on my diaries or if it’s because she had now seen the depths of my pain and it had to be addressed and that scared me. It left me feeling exposed and vulnerable.

I had spent so many years building up a wall to protect me from a day like this where the pain would be visited. I couldn’t be seen as weak, I wouldn’t let anyone or any situation make me feel vulnerable again.

Her sobbing stopped briefly and I could feel her staring at me. My eyes had now adjusted to the darkness and I felt her eyes on my skin. I wasn’t sure how to approach the situation; I didn’t know what to say. I had never prepped for a situation like this and I didn’t know the right way to approach talking.

Then it happened and she started sobbing again. She got off her seat, bent down and picked up her phone and bag. She began walking towards her room door. She stopped in the middle of the living room, now she was more visible to the eye and she said amidst her sobs; 

“Efia, I get it. I really do. I just never knew it was that bad. The hate inside you is crippling. I’m not even sure how you bare to look at me.”

And then she walked into her room.

I just stood there and watched her walk away. After a few minutes, I headed to the couch. Sitting down, I ran my finger over the touchpad and the laptop lit up. I clicked on one of the first videos I made. It was during my identity crisis phase. I had nappy natural hair and I tried to desperately believe that I was Jamaican, listening to a whole lot of Bob Marley and co. I was so young and broken. I still was.

I watched a few more videos before I knocked out for the night on the couch.

.     .      .     .     .     .     .

My whole apartment had this empty feel about it. I could feel the silence around the room. The hallways carried this empty feel in the walls. I slowly sat up and stretched out my arms in the air as I woke up the rest of my body.

I looked around the room and the headache I had reminded me of the night before. I let out a deep sigh. Scanning myself, I noticed my makeup smeared all over my arm I slept on and the couch. I got up and patted my hair down. I headed for my mom’s room.

She was religiously always awake before everyone else was and praying. Today, there were no voices coming out of the room.

I came close and leaned my ear into the door; nothing. I knocked and heard nothing so I opened the door.

The room was neat and tidy. The bed made, the tables dusted and all her stuff gone. There was a note on the table and it indicated that she was leaving to stay at a hotel and was fine with being left alone.

I was sad that she left but I was more irritated that my dad had called me a few times. I just wanted to avoid the situation like I had done majority of the time.

I decided to shelve it and put it in the back of my mind. I had other things to worry about. I walked into my kitchen and I sat there on the island of the kitchen with a concerned look on my face. I had a decision to make. Would I be able to move on from Damien or was I going to be stuck and lose a good man in Lovell?

It had been one hell of a rollercoaster ride of emotions and I just wanted stability. Damien had showed me how important he was to me by being able to stay away but in the same breath, he scared the crap out of me because of how important he was to me. Lovell seemed like the safe bet.

He was local and was proving himself to me as the days went by. I picked up my phone and dialled Lovell’s number and asked him to come over.

If we were ever going to become something, I needed to be upfront with him.

He arrived at my place about 30 minutes later. And I explained the night before and my leaving. I told him about Damien and how much I cared about him. I let him in on some of the difficulties with my mom. He just listened. And then when I was done. He sighed deeply.

He got up from where he was sitting on the couch away from me and then he sat down next to me. He held my hand and looked at my face. He said,

 “Efia, you know how much I care about you. You have captivated me and I have wanted you for myself the whole time. I understand that there are things you might have experienced before I came into the picture but I arrived wanting to be everything to you. The sad thing is I was once in a similar situation where I gave myself to someone else when I was still madly in love with another and I was stuck for many years while I wanted to be with someone else. Many of us think we can replace the one we love with a good enough replica. It might work for a while but after, the heart wants what it wants. I would be fighting a lost cause if I asked you to pick me over him when you’re not ready yet. You have to make that decision by yourself. Besides from what I have seen and how he made you feel before you returned from Sydney; nobody can love you like he can. And in regards to your mom, forgive her Efia, you’ve both been through way too much already.”

I clutched his hand tighter as I fought back tears. He was such a good man with a good heart. But he was right, my heart belonged to someone else and I had to wake up to that realization.

I gave him a long hug and a peck on the cheek and sent him on his way. He asked us to be friends and I knew we’d become great friends but I had to save some relationships first.

.     .      .      .     .

 I was standing in front of my mirror in my bathroom, I was thinking of everything that happened from Damien to Lovell to my mother. I needed calm in my life. I was constantly in this heightened state and it was weighing heavy on my heart. I was replaying what Lovell said about Damien and my mother. I knew he was the one. I had known it since Sydney but I tried to down play it and now here I was, wanting this man that I knew was the piece I was missing but too stubborn to fight for him.

Who cared what he had seen at dinner?

I might have been wrong but wrong on whose account?

He had been gone for months and I was supposed to not do anything with my life. It wasn’t fair.

But playing the blame game wasn’t going to help anyone. I looked over to my right on my bathroom sink and stretched for my cell phone. I picked it up and dialled *67 before dealing his number to hide my number.

It worked and he picked up.

I stayed silent for a short minute before I started talking,

“Damien, how much longer are you going to punish me for?”

I started with. He sighed because he knew I had gotten him by blocking my number. I continued,

“It’s been months and then you just show up?! And then you hide from me. You know what I’ve been through and putting me through all this is just not fair.  Why are you doing this to me?”

He gathered himself and prepared his response;

“Efia, the main reason I have stayed away is for both our benefits. You are still hurt and holding on to a lot of pain from what happened years ago. I’m not saying it’s not justified but it’s hindering you from loving me the way you should. You might be fine for a while and then it creeps in again. You’re so guarded that you can’t let anyone in and you’re so hurt that you don’t see when you’re now the one hurting people you love because you’re trying to not be hurt again. Efia, I love you and I’m scheduled to leave in 2days…”

My heart melted as he said that but then he continued,

“…but I will not agree to start a serious life with you, if you haven’t at least addressed the topic with your mother. I will not allow the cycle of hurt to go into my family. It ends here. Bye Efia”

I heard the phone click. He had hung up. I hated being hung up on with a passion but this was an exception.

That was how he got when he became really emotional. I dropped the phone and looked into the mirror at myself. Something had to give.

.     .      .      .      .

I was up all night thinking about Damien and the things he said. I was battling with his ultimatum. I hated ultimatums and being asked to do things I felt I wasn’t ready to do but when was I ever going to be ready?

All night, I gathered all the letters and notes I had written about the feelings of betrayal, hurt and pain I had felt growing up and hating my mother. It took me the whole day to realize it but I knew I had to do something. I gathered all the items and put them in a box. I was taking charge of the situation for the first time.

I texted my mother the address and asked her very nicely to join me. It was late and I didn’t expect her to show up but I also felt if she was awake, she would.

I was standing on the sand around a little campfire I had made. Next to me was a box of papers and big empty bottles.

The fire was burning high and my mother arrived next to me. We didn’t exchange pleasantries. I just started talking,

“to say I was hurt by what happened years ago would be an understatement. The feelings of betrayal and pain, defined my life and relationships. I did things. I hated myself and I hated you. I experimented with my body from men to women. I searched for something to fill that void. I searched for love. I pushed people away that got too close and I broke hearts because I could. I became engrained and accustomed to being one with hurt and it consumed me. But I am tired. I need to let this go…”

I started to cry

“I need to let this all go. So here we are…”

My tears now hindering my clear communication;

“You are going to help me put all these letters and items inside these glass bottles and together we will smash them on the rocks in the fire and let them burn. I want to let go once and for all. “

My mother and I took letter after letter, I had written way too many over the years and I stuffed them inside the jars. At the end we took a safe position like 10 ft away and began to throw the jars into the fire. It would hit the rocks and spark. And the papers would catch fire and burn. It was a significant therapeutic process.

I just needed her there with me to let go of all the hurt and pain. After the last jar, I turned awkwardly to leave not knowing what to say next. My mother quickly moved next to me and held me.

I said,

“I forgive you mama”

She rubbed my back and said

“I know baby. I know.

You are beautiful, brave and already a better woman than I ever was. I love you Efia. Thank you taking charge of your future. I wish I did.”                                                                    

We stood there for a while and just listened to the waves as they hit the rocks. It was great to be there with her. I felt a weight lifted off my shoulders.

 .     .     .      .     .     .

Like I Can by Sam Smith

The whole next day, I was physically tired from all the emotions from the weekend but more still had to be done. I had to get Damien back.

He wasn’t answering his phone again. He must have thought I was trying to convince him to stay without talking to my mother.

I knew I had to go and get him. I figured his favourite hotel, the Hilton, was where he was staying. Thankfully his hotel was not too far away; only a 17-minute drive. I got into my car and drove down there.

I walked into the lobby and told them my name. I asked the lady if he was staying there. She knew who he was;

“Ma’am, he just checked out about an hour ago. He said he had a flight to catch”

she told me.


I muttered under my breath.

I stepped outside the hotel and felt the heat slap me in the face again. It was really hot.

I looked down at my Google maps to see the directions loading up. Then I glanced at the corner of my phone screen; 17% battery life.

It was the mid-afternoon and rush hour traffic was building up. I knew I had to stop and buy gas but also rush down to the airport.

45 miles away with 17% battery during rush hour, I knew I needed a miracle. There was no way that phone was going to last that long. I began driving and then I hit the freeway and the curse of the road hit; traffic.

Damien had to return his car at 5pm, and catch his flight at 7pm. And I was stuck in traffic 38 miles away with an hour plus to drive. It was 4:30pm. I was all kinds of screwed.

I tried to remember the name directions off the top of my head but it was hard, too many new roads I had never taken before. I continued to drive as I dimmed the lights on my phone and closed all the unused apps. I had been driving for about 10mins now and even without touching the phone, the battery was down to 8%.

Now I was panicking. I didn’t know where the car rental place was nor did I know what gate he was flying out of. I didn’t know how to get to the airport to begin with!

I saw a gas station over the right side of the freeway, so I exited. I ran inside the shop mart and asked out loud,

“Do you guys have any car chargers for Android phones?”

IPhone users be quiet please. Thank you.

The guy looked at me in my pensive state and pointed at the rack with all the chargers on it.

I furiously combed through them and pulled the one I needed out. I headed to the counter and threw it down. The man looked at me like I was crazy.

“Is that it?”

he asked. I nodded back.

“Debit or credit?”

he followed up. Stupid question I thought to myself.

“It doesn’t matter.”

I snapped back slightly irritated. I rushed to my car, which also needed gas. I pulled up next to the pump. I was about to get out of the car when I noticed that there was a message on the button for regular gas that said,

“Out of regular gas”

Who the fuck was ever out of regular gas?!!!

I jumped into my car and tried to find another pump. Same message on the next one, I was beginning to feel cursed. The next pump had the same message. Every fucking pump was out of regular gas!


I hopped in the car and looked at my phone, 5% battery. I was truly scared now. I could not lose Damien for good. I just needed him. I knew it.

There was no man to love me the way he loved me. I just had to let him know that I was ready to let him in the way I should have this whole time.

As I stopped at the traffic light right before the ramp onto the freeway, I opened up the charger I just bought and plugged it in. Dead.

It didn’t work!

I just paid $7.99 for this freaking charger and it didn’t work?!

I knew I was cursed. I guess I wasn’t meant to meet up with Damien.

I was not sure about what I suppose to do. I wanted to get there as fast I could. I was weaving in and out of traffic and then I noticed another gas station further down the side of the free. I exited and bolted in.

There was a guy standing in line and just chatting up the attendant. I gave him this dirty look and then he moved out of my way.

I bought the charger and got into the car. I wasn’t sure why my battery life was going so fast but it was now down to 4%. I was now scared and ready to lose it. I opened the second charger I had bought and plugged it in. My phone buzzed to acknowledge the boost of power but then it didn’t charge. Fuck!

I got back on the road and got stuck in traffic. I was on the brink. I kept thinking about Damien. His touch, his smile, his voice, the way he walked, I kept thinking about the way he snored and denied it when he was awake or left his mouth open when he slept. I was in love with that man and I had to get him back.

The battery was at 3% when I pulled into the third gas station. Another charger bought, same effect. I guess something was wrong with the phone. But I had bought three different brands of chargers and not a single one had worked. I was losing all hope. It was now 4:52pm. There was no way; I was going to make it in time I thought.

In a brief moment of clarity, I thought to ask the attendant inside the gas station for verbal directions in case my phone finally died. In hindsight, I probably should have just written out the Google directions but who really thinks about that under pressure?

The man was kind enough to give me directions

“….when you get to the Galleria exit, there will be 3 roads. One to the left 610 N, one to the right 610 S and then one curved road that goes under the ramp. Make sure you take that one and go for about 12 lights and then make a right on to Telephone road. It will lead you to the car rental place”

I thanked the man as I bolted out of the store as I heard him yell out,

“Drive safe!”

The phone was now at 2%. I was following his directions and marvelling at the craze all this had put me through. I was carefully watching my route and trying to not forget the directions the man had given me. I was now staring the Galleria exit in front of me. I remember him repeating that I not turn a certain way, I was trying to pay attention and I got closer and began to prepare to make that turn but I saw no one going down that road. There was also an airport sign, to the right. I had to make a split second decision, go with the man or the city planners that knew to put that sign there.

Like many, I ignored the great directions I had gotten so far and turned right. And turned straight onto the ramp. A large truck obstructed the view of the freeway and then the truck moved out of my way. I looked down the backed up freeway and right there, the tears began to flow. It was already 5:04pm.

I was never going to make it, I thought to myself. Damien was always on time. He always planned ahead. There was no way he was going to be late. And one of the traits that attracted me to me him initially was now something that was making me sad.

I was now crying hard. I pulled over to the side of the freeway and began to think. How could I get to the airport and at least try to stop him from leaving?

My mind was racing, my battery was dying and my friend Vicki wasn’t answering. I wanted to call Lovell but how would I call the man I was turning down to drive me to win the man I was leaving him for. It would be cruel.

And then, it clicked!

I knew someone staying in the area.

I dialled the number and it began to ring and I swear it felt like it was ringing forever. I was now thinking to myself I was sure I was never meant to see happiness. I just couldn’t explain it. The one place I had found happiness, I had managed to push away. My fears of loneliness and emptiness seemed to be actualizing. I just couldn’t catch a break and then I heard a voice,


I sat up and looked focused and said,


She stopped. She sounded taken aback by what I had just called her. I had not called her that in a long time. Years even.

“Efia baby, what’s wrong?”

I could hear the concern in her. I would normally have played tough but I couldn’t. I just let it all out,

“Maa. I’ve lost him. I’ve lost the man I love because I couldn’t forgive. I couldn’t see the great benefits of the love he showed me because I was so blinded by the hate that consumed my heart. Now he is gone mom. He is gone. Damien is gone mother. I lost him. I tried to make it down to the airport but I couldn’t. He’s gone mom. He’s….”

I started sobbing as I heard the phone beep to remind me I had critically low battery.

“It’s okay my love, where are you now? Let me come and meet you” 

I told her where I was right before the phone disconnected. And then all I had to do was wait. Wait patiently while the man I loved was about to hop on a plane to the other end of the world. The thought of not seeing him gave me shivers.

It was just crazy how my mother was the only one to answer.

She showed up like 10 minutes later and I left my car on the side of the road and jumped into hers. I directed her to head for the airport. I couldn’t contain her driving. I just felt nobody except myself could go as fast as I wanted to.

My mother was driving really fast. Weaving through the now slowly moving traffic. It was now past six. I was worried he would go beyond security and that would be the end of it.

Funny how life works that my mother who I hated the most was now the one driving me to keep hold of the happiest thing in my life.

She got us there and it was 6:27pm.

I jumped out of the car and ran to the security checkpoint by the airline he was flying with. I scanned the lines and I couldn’t find him.

I couldn’t believe that I had gotten this close after everything; it truly wasn’t meant to be. And then I looked up one more time and there he was!

He had been taking off his shoes to go through the airport scanner.

My heart jumped!

“Damien! Damien!”

I yelled out loud.

He looked backwards as if he looked in my direction but I wasn’t tall enough and even if he was looking for the voice, my 5’5 frame would have made it impossible for him to see me through the crowd.


I screamed.

He heard that one and stopped. Everyone in the line stopped and looked at me. I looked crazy but my brother always said, 

“Love would make people do irrational and illogical things for its sake.”

Here I was in the airport making a nuisance out of myself. I could see him now facing my direction with me still hidden.

“I let hate, pain and fear, consume me. It dictated my life for the longest time. I wanted to love but I didn’t know how. And then you came along and showed me what love was about. Patient when you needed to be firm when I need a strong hand. You are everything to me Damien Brown. I would not be here embarrassing myself in front of all these people if I didn’t think it was you that I wanted and needed. Please don’t get on that plane. I need you here with me.”

I was crying and I bowed my head as I finished talking. Everyone seemed to turn and now look at him. It was like they were telling him to make his move. He took off his jewellery and placed it in the bin and he did the craziest thing. He walked through the scanner, got scanned and put all his items on! And just like that, he disappeared towards the gates for the flights.

I was so confused. I was broken.

Why would he leave?

How could he leave me?

I came here for him. I came to get him. After all I went through to get here. He still left?!

I was for sure crushed.

I turned around and headed towards the waiting arms of my mother. It had taken over a decade to arrive here but she was here. I needed her and she was right here.

I could not have believed she would be the one to hold me now. I slumped into her arms and began sobbing. She was tearing up too.

She held me close and ran her hand down the back of my head and neck.  It was soothing and it was what I needed as people thought we were a mother and daughter weeping the departure of a loved one.

She was holding me close and then her crying began to stop. I could feel a change in her hold on me.

And she slowly let me go… I didn’t want to be let go off.

She pulled back and I looked at her with confusion. I was about to speak when I felt a strong hand on my shoulder. I didn’t turn around,

“The power of forgiveness and newness can never be quantified. You let go of hurt and pain. You faced your fear and conquered it. Will there be days when those feelings will come back? Yes.

But you are one tough cookie and I know you’ll be strong. You are brave, beautiful and you have a good heart. I am sorry for leaving. I should have stayed and held your hand but I am here now and I want you to know I love you and I want to be with you. You truly deserve all the love and happiness this world can give.”

Damien’s voice closed out. I turned around and looked up to his eyes. I smacked on his chest as he pulled me closer. He held me tight. This man was the one I loved. He saw me when I was weak and broken. He stood for me.

“You came back Damien”

I said.

He responded,

“Leaving would have been my greatest regret ever.  I promise to never leave again”

I looked at my mom now standing to my side. She nodded. I smiled.

He squeezed me tighter. It felt right.

It was perfect.

“We go through various emotions in life. Some leave glowing impacts on our lives and some cut deep and scar badly. The stories are different. Our methods are different. The pain is different but our end goal should be the same; forgiveness and peace. Even though I created this story from head to toe, there are relatable lessons I hope people picked up. You might be in a cycle of hurt right now; hurting others for the way others hurt you. Break the cycle and aim for peace.

You might know someone who is broken and recovering from hurt, if you love them, never rush them. You can never quantify their pain. Just love as hard as you can and be patient. Let your unconditional love do the talking.

You might have that one call or text you need to send. DO IT!

You deserve to be happy, to be free. You deserve peace. Take the wheel on your feelings. Control your own cycle of emotions. Don’t remain a victim to hurt and hate.

Stay Up.”

                                                                             – @adewus4real

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© 2014 #WhatTheHeckMan



Art · Drama · Erotica · Fiction · Life · Sex · Uncategorized

Imperfect 3

Imperfect 3


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Lay Me Down by Sam Smith

I smacked my lips together. I circled back my thoughts and kept my eyes closed.

The hand was firm but the touch was gentle. It was a man’s hand. I wanted so badly for it to be Damien. How romantic would it be I thought to myself.

My heart was now in my stomach doing jumping jacks and pushups; nerve wrecking and then I slowly opened my eyes.

I turned my head to the left from my aisle seat to look up at the person. The pants were tailored and freshly pressed; I lifted my eyes and scanned upwards. Making contact with his smile as he grinned at me, I smiled back.

It was the flight attendant.

He politely asked me to put my seatbelt on. I looked down and noticed my unbuckled seat belt. I tried to force a smile.

My heart sunk further as he walked away and I clicked my seatbelt into the buckle. I looked down the aisle once more and realized it.

Damien was gone.

.    .     .    .     .

It was great being back stateside. As much as I loved Australia, there was no place like home.

Going back to work felt better too. But I was badly missing Damien and being home with my mother daily was just making me crazy.

My arrival was welcomed at the company and I was given a promotion when I returned and a new office. I even physically moved up one floor in the building.

I was feeling very good about it all.  Work was now my source of joy.

My relationships and my health were bleeding at the time but I was holding on.

One particular evening, I came home to my mother. Usually, I would get off work and take the train getting off at the exit where my gym was located. I would work out and then run home which was about 2 miles away.

This evening, I had a long day at work and I wasn’t feeling up for a workout, so I headed home straight from the office. I could feel something coming over me like I was going to explode if I was even spoken to in the wrong tone.

I walked into the house and heard my mother talking on the phone. She must have been talking to a friend or something. I greeted her as was customary and walked into the kitchen. I was attempting to ignore her conversation that almost always consisted of her bad talking me or saying inaccurate things about my brother and I.

She was talking about my eating habits and how I was the reason my condition wasn’t getting better. She was making it seem to the lady on the phone, that I came home daily and neglected to eat. Neglecting the fact that I was working long hours and on a strict diet and workout routine. I was pissed.

Already amped up, she wasn’t discerning enough to register my anger. She kept talking and I kept getting heated. I threw my vegetables into the microwave and walked into the living room.

I stopped right in front of her and said,

“Mummy, I would appreciate if you stopped talking about me to your friend, especially because majority of it is not accurate. Thank you…”

She looked up at me from her seating position and proceeds to lie to my face,

“Efia, I’m not talking about you. You should stay out of my conversation”

I was now heated to the max. Why was she lying?

Every time she did something to me to piss me off, it opened the floodgates of hurt and betrayal. All those unprocessed emotions always seemed to fill me up and I wanted to reach for her and strangle her. But I couldn’t, many things wouldn’t let me.

This was becoming a regular occurrence and I was just tired of having her in my home. I turned around and headed to my room, I slumped onto my bed and picked up my phone.


I started dialing his number; it began ringing as I heard the microwave beeping in the kitchen with the customary three beeps as the timer run out. My mother’s voice still echoed as she continued her conversation before Damien’s voice interrupted me. I got so excited and said “hello”

My ears welcomed the sound of his voice over his voicemail recording. I sighed.          

“This is Damien Brown, I am not able to receive your call at the moment…”

The recording went on. It was soothing to hear but I needed him. I needed his calming voice or the husk in his tone that made me feel secure when I was alone or down.

Why did he do this to me?

I started to play back the last argument we had in my head. There were things that I could have done differently.

But was I that horrible?

Did I really scare him away?

I hadn’t even recognized how much I loved the man until he was gone. I was so close to tears. I felt alone and powerless. My support was nowhere to be found.

I was still lying in bed with my face planted in the pillow while I continued to think, my heart was heavy and I wanted to scream. I could feel the heat from my own nostrils hit me on my cheeks as I continued to breathe into the pillow.

I was lost in some train of thought and about 30 minutes had passed when my phone buzzed.

I raised my head up and scanned the bed looking for my phone; I hoped it was Damien. I picked up my phone. Highly expectant, I punched in my unlock code and it opened up. The bright light from the screen slapping me in the face of all the darkness that covered the room, I opened my messages by pulling the notification tab down.

The message was from Lovell. He was an old friend and we had dated briefly for a few months and my trip to Australia interrupted the likelihood of anything happening.

It read,

“Hey Effy, I heard you’re back from down under from Lucia and I just wanted to say hi and check on you. We should catch up sometime soon, if you’re down. Hope you’re good”

 I wasn’t good. I wasn’t okay. I needed to talk to someone. I wanted to be with someone right now.

I contemplated exploring the night with him. I tried to convince myself not to by thinking about Damien but where was he when I needed him?

Where was he during my last appointment?

When I got my promotion?

He was gone. I looked at my phone and unlocked it again. My message read,

“There’s a late night diner down the street from my place. Get me pancakes?”

A few minutes later, I was in my sweats and ugs as I grabbed my car keys off my dining table and headed for the door. I noticed my mom look at me as I walked, I didn’t make eye contact. She didn’t deserve my words.

 .    .    .    .     .    .

Lovell was nice. I had forgotten about how much he made me laugh.

Since the night we had coffee, he had been a constant. It felt like meeting someone new all over again. The conversations were good to have and he was a true gentleman as always. I remember one night when we went out to a comedy show, somewhat informally. They had a two-drink minimum at the comedy club.

Let’s just say that I had more than two drinks and I was quite drunk that Friday night when the show was over. I had laughed so hard all night that I couldn’t even remember when I passed out.

I woke up the next morning in my bed fully clothed and slightly hung over.

I stumbled out of bed and headed for the kitchen to get some water to drink. It was about 11:30am in the morning, I opened my bedroom door and noticed my mother on the couch.


I so badly couldn’t wait for her to be gone. Waking up to her there was very aggravating for me.

I got to the refrigerator and placed my cup into the space and pressed the button for water. I was heading back to my room when my mom called out to me.

“Efia, come here please. I want to talk to you”


Was the first thought that went through my head. My head was throbbing and I wanted more sleep.

She just knew how to frustrate me. I sluggishly walked towards her pulling my blouse down. I sat down on the couch across from her.

She started by saying

“I am very aware that there is very little hope for the resurrection of our relationship. Frankly because we never really had one to begin with. I realize in hindsight now that I should have done more for you. I should have been your protector. I should have been the terrier that fought to keep you safe but I didn’t know what to do then. It wasn’t until I went to therapy myself that I was shown my lapses as a parent. The hurt I had gone through made it difficult for me to be there for you as you hurt. Hurt people apparently hurt others.”

She paused for a breath and continued;

“Also, my hands were severely tied. The money that we used to start your father’s business was from Comfort’s mother. It was a huge sum of money.  At the time, we hadn’t even begun the repayment of the loans yet and that was part of why I went back to working, so that I could support the household.”

I began to get irritated and very angry, as my hangover seemed to instantly fade.

Was she really blaming not taking action on a loan?

Did she realize that I was her daughter? Her blood?

She continued before I could speak,

“I am truly sorry for everything that happened. I wish at the time, I had the strength to do more. I thought I was protecting the livelihood of the family and particularly your father. I was wrong. Please find it in your heart to forgive me. Please Efia”

I looked at her and began to tear up. It was my go to emotion when I felt overwhelmed or angry to the point of not being able to speak anymore.

This was too much; too much all at once.

I had waited for many years to hear her own up to her mistakes and apologize. It was finally here and I didn’t know how to forgive her.

I got up and I headed for my room without saying a word and then I heard my mother’s voice. It was coaxed with frustration and sadness.

“Efia, where are you going? Efia! Efia!

Efia, when are you going to forgive me?!!!”

She seemed to yell out. The rage in me was to the brim. I stopped in my tracks and turned abruptly, with piercing focus and deep emotion, I yelled back at her, 

“Never!!! You don’t deserve my forgiveness!

You think one apology more than 15 years later will solve it?

NO… So leave me alone!!”

 I stormed out of the room and slammed the door to my bedroom.

I ran into my bathroom and closed the door. I sat on the floor of the toilet and began to cry. I just cried.

I was ashamed of myself just as much as I was sad. I had forgotten what it felt like to forgive. I was so used to the emotion of hate that it clouded my view on the possibility of ever forgiving my mother.

I had let hate consume me that even when I felt the apology was sincere, I couldn’t bring myself to validate it.

I spent hours in that bathroom just crying, thinking of my failed relationships. My attempt to identify and my phase with women because I felt that was who I am. The lack of guidance from my mother through navigating new emotions as I grew up, it all just continued to break me.

How much I would have paid to have someone hold me at that time? Even a hug from my father would have been great but he was off somewhere making money.

I slowly lay down on the bathroom floor and passed out. Waking up over 5 hours later, I had missed my friend’s birthday dinner and I had a separate kind of throbbing in my head. Tears induced hangover.

.    .     .    .     .

Endless Love

 A month had now passed and there was still no contact from Damien.

I was beginning to forget him more and more as the days went by.

At home, my mother and I were getting along better. Small talk here and there but we managed to ignore speaking about the incident. She was nearing the end of her visit also, so we tried to keep things light. I hadn’t forgiven her but I wasn’t as angry as I was before anymore.

We were watching a Lifetime movie together before Lovell arrived to pick me up for our date. I told her goodbye as I headed out of my apartment. Lovell was waiting next to his car when I arrived down stairs; he held the door open for me as I gave him a hug before I entered the car.

I was hungry but all I could think about was how good he smelled. You ladies know how we get when a man smells good. He was confident, driven and super family oriented. An occupational therapist by day, a mentor on the weekends to foster youth and just an all round stand up guy.

Sitting across from him as he finished up a thought, I began to wonder why I hadn’t given him a proper chance before. He was a great guy. It was probably a case of using the curve too early.

My mind briefly flashed towards Damien but he was not here. He was not caring enough to have gone a month without any form of contact. Lovell, smiling at me would probably have turned out to be the same kind of guy but for now, he was mindful of my feelings and respectful of my views. I was laughing my ass off and we had so much in common. I even remember me burning his tongue as I tried to feed him a spoon of my clam chowder. He took it like a champ and we laughed it off. I was having a great time.

My phone began to buzz and I excused myself and reached for my purse, it was my mom.

I kind of rolled my eyes a bit as I answered, Lovell smiled and I responded to her. Lovell motioned at me as he excused himself to use the bathroom. I smiled back.

“Mom, what do you want and why are you still up?”

I asked as I glanced at the time on the phone.

“I slept in the afternoon my dear, I’m not sleepy. Please what is the password for your other computer? I’m trying to watch a dvd and I cannot understand the one under the television”

 Not trying to explain how the blu-ray player worked, I gave her the password to my old computer and she set about watching her movie while I got back to my date. I had barely placed the phone down when a waiter brought me my favorite dessert; a Cookies ‘n’ Cream Pizookie and a single purple tulip.

I smiled but confused I said to the waiter 

“I didn’t order this”

For a brief second, I thought Lovell had planned it but I was sure I had never told him what my favorite flowers were even if I had mentioned my favorite dessert.

“Oh miss, the gentleman at the table over there specifically ordered it for you”

 he said pointing towards a table in the opposite end of the restaurant floor. I turned around in my seat to look with him but I caught the look of surprise on his face, as the man was nowhere to be seen. This odd thought began to come into my head and I tried to shake it off.

I asked the waiter,

 “Can you please describe the person to me?”

He nodded,

“He was about 6’1 with medium athletic build. Dark hair. He had a golden ring on his middle right finger. He spoke with a British accent”

My mouth was ajar as I turned around and scanned the room again. Only one name came to mind; Damien.

I began to panic as the waiter excused himself.

Was it really Damien?

What had he seen?

Did he see me feed Lovell or hold his hand?

I picked up my phone and dialed Damien’s friend who I knew, Lucia.

I must have woken her up from her sleep.

“Hey Lucia, sorry to wake you up but I had a quick question. When was the last time you spoke to Damien?”

She cleared her throat as I heard her moving in her bed.

“Hey Effy, umm… the last time I spoke to him was probably a week ago. He was looking for someone to drop him off at the airport”

I was now really worried.

“Where did he say he was going?”

I asked,

 “America. He sold all his property and I think he got a job out there. Yeah, he’s gone”

 I thanked her and hung up. Tears as you suspected were streaming down my face.

Lovell returned and with a confused look on his face asked me what was going on.

I swallowed hard and lied that a family emergency had come up and I had to leave.

He looked at the food on the table and then back at me really confused. Then said;

“Okay, can I drop you off at home at least?”

 I responded with a “no”. And I proceeded to walk out. He followed me as I hailed a cab and got in. He stood there mad confused like it was his fault or something.

I felt bad for him but I felt horrible for myself. I was crying as the cab driver navigated downtown and headed for my apartment in the midlands. I was regretting everything on the cab ride home.

I blamed myself for opening up to someone else so quickly. I could not fathom if I had blown it with Damien again. I was looking for ways to convince myself that it was okay by telling myself that Damien didn’t see me kiss Lovell, I hadn’t had sex with him or slept at his place but none of it worked. I still felt terrible.

I didn’t understand why he left. Was he mad at me? Did he not want to see me?

I needed answers.  On one end, I was just tired and sad but on the other, I was glad that he came back. At least I thought he came back for me. It was just too much to deal with in one night and I just wanted to curl up in a ball in my bed and worry about it all later.

I got home and the walk up the stairs felt like the scene out of the Rocky movie. It just felt like the stairs went on forever. I was still sobbing lightly when I finally arrived at the door.  That must have been the reason why I didn’t initially hear the voice of someone else sobbing inside the apartment.

I pushed the door open and froze at the sight of my mother sitting in the dimly lit living room as the light of my computer illuminated her face. She was crying and she was crying hard!

It didn’t take very long while glued in that spot to figure out that my mother had stumbled on my video logs where I had talked about hating her and all the pain trying to love and forgive her had caused.

I felt weak. I wanted to die. As much as I was angry at my mother, I never truly showed how angry I was. I always kept it in and poured it out in my writing and in my video logs. And on those video logs, I held nothing back. I had called her all sorts of horrible things because I thought she would never see them. That no one would ever see them. She must have watched most of them and one was still playing right then.

I just stood there motionless and stared at her.

We both had tears in our eyes now. I stood still with the door opened contemplating closing it and staying in or leaving. She looked broken, I heard each word sail into the open room, floating in the air but like a knife to her heart it stabbed further. This was a cycle of hurt and I could run like she did but what would that do for us?

Someone had to stop the trend of hurting women and creating these dark holes in our hearts that we then expected lovers, friends, jobs, money, and life to fill up. I looked at my keys unsure if I could do this or if I had the strength to do it. I began to doubt myself; I was just as imperfect as she was in many ways, who was I to talk to her? I moved and I closed the door.

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© 2014 #WhatTheHeckMan