Shottah: A Fictional Narrative

Superior Essays
out. Putting his hand on the duct tape, he snatched it off of Cuzzo’s mouth. “You got 30 seconds to tell me where the safe is and what’s the combination. I got $37,000 out of your pants pockets on the floor. You’re a real ATM machine, huh? Now I wanna know where the rest of it at before shit gets ugly!”
“Aye, Shawty I don’t think you know who y’all fucking with and the consequences of…”
Shottah laughed wickedly, sounding like a hyena. He reached out rubbed the side of Zo’s face like he was rubbing on a broad’s face. “Wrong answer rude boy…and it’s gonna cost you too!” He put the duct tape back on Cuzzo mouth and walked over by the doorway to grab the brown duffle bag. Unzipping it, he pulled out a bottle of ammonia and a fresh pack of double
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Her eyes stopped rolling, started protruding as if they were about to pop out of their sockets. The corrosive chemicals continued eating, dissolving her flesh, the pain brought her back into consciousness and the sound of her to screams robbed the room of any silence. With rolling, uncontrollably tears, she felt her life seeping from her body with every drop of blood she lost.
Cuzzo’s eyes were as big as golf balls as he sat, helplessly watching them torture his girl. Glowering, he could no longer take it, his ice cold face broke and shed thick tear droplets. He squirmed around in his seat and screaming behind the duct tape, hoping to get Shottah to stop.
With the blade to Havannah’s throat, Shottah looked back at Cuzzo and said, “What’s that you say my, boy?” Shottah said mockingly, knowing his gruesome torture tactics would eventually cause him to have a change of heart.
Cuzzo’s head rapidly shook up and
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“Good boy. I thought that would get your attention. But you a pussy, boy! You sacrifice your beautiful lady in place of money?! You can always replace money but you can’t replace a life.” Glaring at Cuzzo, Shottah face was full of disdain for his cowardice ways. He spat in his face and walked off, headed toward the closet in search of the safe.
About ten minutes later, he emerged from the closet with four large duffle bags full of cash. “It's time to go, little brother. We got what we came for, mission complete. Now help me with these.”
Boogie smiled at the gold mine they’d struck while grabbing a couple of duffle bags. He looked at Havannah, who was still duct taped and bleeding half to death. Her eyes were rolling in the back of her head from the loss of blood. He thought about putting her out of her misery, but thought twice, deciding to give her a chance to live. And if she called the cops to get the help she needed, what was she going to tell them? That two young niggas with dreadlocks tied them up and robbed them?
If was the case, good luck, because she would be describing half of the black male population in

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