"Are you okay, baby?" Peter asked.

I shake my head, "Can you please leave."

He looked at me, "What did I do? Is it because Angel put her hands on you?"

I signed, "No. I'm upset dat you raised yo voice at me. You embarrassed me, you yelled at me, I felt like a child." I said calmly. I tossed the covers off my body and made my way slowly over to him. "Na' dat we on da topic of ha' puttin' ha' hands on me, I mean, look at me. I have bruises all ova' ma' body. Because of you, Peter. You. I mean, dis' is nonsense, what do I look like fightin' when I not only have a son, but am a grown woman?! I should have neva' got witchu!"

Peter stared at me before he made over to me. He grabbed my face, caressing my cheeks.

"Say that again and I'll make you regret it. You, Ms. Sarah Marshall, you're mine." His eyes held lust, but something stuck out. They also held anger.

I've angered him with my words.

"I'm sorry," I said.

I pushed myself out of his arms, taking my spot back on the bed. "Can you please leave, now. I'm tired and what happened last week was a huge mistake. It shouldn't have gotten that far."

"So, we're a mistake? We happened last week. Sarah, I told you, you're mine. You can't leave me."

I sighed, "I'm not regretting us, or our relationship for that matter. I'm regretting us having sex. You've known me for years, you know I couldn't have sex, why didn't you stop me?" I whispered, trying not to cry in front of him.

"I'm sorry. I mean, you were pushing all on me and grinding against me. You know how hard it is for a man to say no to sex,"

I shrugged, "Please, just let yourself out. I'll see you tomorrow, Peter."

"You know what, bye. Text me when you stop acting like this." He sighs, walking out. I hear the front door slam shut and I lay back in the bed, tears streaming down my face.

"Lord, I'm so sorry. It shouldn't have went that far. I apologize for my actions. I'm so stupid. It happened to quick and I couldn't stop it. I'm sorry, Jesus," I sob quietly.

◈◈◈◈◈

"Christian, I will not tell you again. Sit down, now." I said sternly.

"Okay, mommy." He sat on the stool and stared at me.

"What, Christian?" I sighed, rolling my eyes a bit.

"Mommy, you so pretty," He smiles.

I laugh, "Aww, love, and you're so handsome. You're mommy's handsome little knight."

I slowly picked him up, kissing on his cheeks. As I'm lowering him back on the stool, pain shoots through my spine. I bend over, with my right hand massaging my aching back.

I yelp out loud and the door opens. "You aight?"

I turn around, still holding onto my hurting back.

I glance up and I smile a bit. "Oh, no, I'm fine, Mr. August."

"It's jus' August, I ain' dat old yet." He said.

"I'm sorry,"

"Nah, don't apologize. You ain' did nothin' wrong, baybeh."

He gentle sits me down at this small coffee table. He sits down as I tell Christian to go to Ms. Jackie.

"You aight luh?" He asked.

I smirk, with my head down. "Oh, this is nothing. I mean compared ta' giving birth this is a small prick."

"Really na'," He smirked.

I keep my head down, nodding. "Yessir,"

"I like ya' accent."

"What accent?"

"You sound like you from New Awlins." He smiled.

"I am," I laughed. "Born and partially raised."

"Aw shit, me too. Da NO is da shit!" He said happily.

"Yeah, it's cool." I giggled a little.

"Nah it ain' jus' coo, dat shit lit. Das ma' home fa' real, but you know a nigga had ta' leave fa' a bit." He shrugged, sighing.

I look up, and smile and for the second time since our encounter, I stare into his brown eyes. His teeth looked so beautiful.

"Your teeth are so pretty." I said and instantly regretted it. "S-sorry, I didn't mean ta' say that out loud."

He laughed, "You coo, baybeh. Ya' got some pretty teeth too." He smiled happily.

"Thanks." I keep my eyes down, playing with my fingers.

"Why ya' do dat'?"

I scrunch my face up, "Do what?"

"You always got cha' head and shit, and you'on neva' make eye contact. Why?"

"I can't say." I whispered.

I've always had a problem making eye contact with men because of Ray. I'm not saying I look at men the same or I look at all different as if they were Ray. I just can't seem to look at them and feel safe or secure. I feel like when they look at me, they see me the way Ray did.

In my head, all men are capable of doing what Ray did to me. In their hearts all they're after is sex. And they're going to get it. One way or another, rather it's handed to them or forced.

"Ight, Ion wanna force ya ta' talk, but if ya eva' need uh friend, ima really great listena'." August says, taking my hand in his.

I crack a smile, nodding, "Noted,"

He holds my hand, staring directly in my eyes. "With His stripes, ya' healed,"

"What?" I smile.

"I know ya in pain and I know you tryna cover it up for ya' son, and I know ya' hurtin', but, I also know ya gotta be a prayer warrior, so with His stripes you are healed." He smiled, holding on to my hands tighter.

"Thanks Aug." I said, smiling.

"What's dis?" August asked pointing to my neck.

"Huh?" I try to look at my neck, but fail miserably.

"Ya got a lil passion mark on ya neck. I'm assumin' Peter gave it to ya." He said, as his warm hand begin to slip outta mine.

I cover my neck, blushing hard. Again there is my regret and guilt.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Why?" He asked.

I feel tears beginning to fall and I shrug, whispering a soft, "I don't know,"

"Aye, you aight?" He asked.

"Nooo, I'm so sorry," I sobbed, pushing my fingers deeper into my ears, trying to block out the voices.

"Aye, you aight, Sarah?" August asked again, but louder.

"I didn't mean it!" I opened my eyes to see I was back in New Awlins at Raymond's house.

I tried ta' Sarah awake but the mo' I shook ha', the mo' she start scream in' and scratchin' onna' nigga.

After hours of Sarah, scream in' and fightin' me, she stops, passin' out onna' flo'.

"AYE, SOMEBODY HELP ME!" I yelled, pickin' Sarah up in ma' arm.

Security guards run in and immediately call da' ambulance. The paramedics walk in wit' they stretchers and hurried to put ha' onnit'.

As they rolled ha' out, I notified Peter bout what's goin' on and he nodded, grabbin' his things.

Damn, who gon' take ha' son?

I shake my head, but grabbed him. "Aye lil man, you'on me, but I'm Aug. I'm ya moms friend and ya moms tol' me to getcha' and met ha' at the hospital."

He stared at me, before smiling, "You talk funny. I'm Aug." He mocked, playfully.

I crack a smile and nodded. "Let's go ta' ya' moms, lil man."

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