Going Down Pt. 05

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In late February, Linda was nearing nine months and I became more and more anxious over the birth. We hadn’t seen a doctor at all for the whole thing. I had no idea how we’d pay for the hospital visit when she had the baby. I knew they wouldn’t turn us away at the emergency room, but then we’d be sued for money we didn’t have. I was quite sure it would run into the thousands of dollars.

Harlan asked me why I always looked so glum when I should be high and happy, and I told him. He said he knew a midwife who would deliver our baby for free. I was so relieved, I could have kissed him.

“It’s my mom, actually,” he said. “All she’ll want in return is that maybe you send Linda over a couple of times a week to help her clean and cook.”

I looked at Linda. She was on her elbows and knees on the futon, with Harlan’s fat cock drilling her pussy from behind.

“What do you think, honey?” I asked.

She glanced over her shoulder at Harlan. “Are you sure that’s all I have to do?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Just be her maid. I ain’t got no sisters to help her with all that shit and Kami is a crackhead whore, so she ain’t no help.”

“Since when is Kami a crackhead whore?” I asked.

“She’s been smokin’ for a while now,” Harlan said. “You guys had already moved out, I think. She’s got no income, so she rents her cunt for money to pay me.”

“That’s terrible,” Linda said. “I’m really sad about that.”

“Yeah,” Harlan said. “Sucks to be her.”

“What about their baby?” Linda asked.

“Born preemie,” Harlan said. “About a week ago. It’s a little boy.”

“I can’t believe they didn’t tell us,” she said.

I felt a little sick to my stomach at Harlan’s disclosures. For a moment, I saw with blinding sight how low I’d fallen. I was a drug addict and a bad provider for my family. Where was the real me—the hard worker who had gotten promoted just a year ago? Our Dad had stopped visiting us and his money had dried up. All we had was my welfare, whatever I could make online, and Harlan’s charity. Abject shame twisted my guts and I almost threw up I was so disgusted with myself.

Harlan ejaculated and filled my sister with cum, then pulled out and his semen oozed from her swollen pussy. He put his cock back in his pants, zipped up, donned his coat and hat, and left without saying anything more to either of us.

I was essentially whoring my sister out to pay for my drug habit. What the hell was wrong with me?

“Baby…” I began, but couldn’t figure out what to say to her.

“Is this the way you’d envisioned our lives?” she asked.

She must have seen the look on my face and guessed what I had been thinking about. I shook my head.

“I’m a terrible person,” I said. “I’m a monster.”

She struggled off the futon to standing and came to me. She slid her arms around my neck and rested her head on my shoulder.

“No,” she said. “It’s my fault. I’m the one who got pregnant.”

“It’s not your fault,” I said. “I’m the one addicted to XM.”

“You’ve got me there,” she said.

I made it almost eighteen hours before I broke down and took another XM. As soon as I’d taken it, I felt a whole lot better. Linda was reading in bed and I was at the table on the laptop. I closed the computer, took Linda’s book away from her, flipped her onto her hands and knees, and shoved my throbbing cock into her pussy. I sighed with lust at every stroke of my super-sensitive cock inside her. What did it matter that I was a deadbeat druggie? Sex wouldn’t have felt any better right now if I was the richest man on earth.

Linda read while I pounded her pussy from behind. I was lost in a daze of euphoria and paying no actual attention to her other than pumping her full of cock over and over. I might as well have been a machine. I fucked her until it was too dark for her to read, until Harlan banged at our door for his time with her.

He slid his cock into her semen-filled pussy and fucked her for quite a while himself as I sat at the computer and looked at pictures of naked pussies and women fondling themselves. Linda moaned much louder than normal and clutched her belly.

“Oh, my God,” she said.

Harlan kept right on fucking her.

“What’s wrong with her?” I asked.

“She’s having the baby,” he said. “Didn’t you feel her contractions when you were in her?”

I broke out in a whole-body sweat. “Shouldn’t you get your mom?” I asked.

“Yeah, in a minute when I’m done,” he said.

“Harlan,” I said.

“All right, all right,” he said. “Don’t get your panties in a knot.”

He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. I heard a woman’s voice through the phone. He told whoever it was that it was time to deliver, then hung up and resumed his deep, slow thrusts into my sister’s pussy.

“Shouldn’t you stop fucking her?” I asked. “Won’t it hurt the baby?”

“Nah,” he said. “It’s good for them. Cum makes them contract faster and the baby come earlier.”

“Uh,” I said. “Is that a good thing?”

“Which one of us has had eleven babies? You or me?”

“That would be you,” I said. I thought about canlı bahis it. “You’ve had eleven babies? Your wife must be superhuman.”

“Oh, they’re mostly with different moms. I get all my girls pregnant. It’s part of them paying their way.”

That sounded odd, but who was I to judge?

Someone knocked at the door. I opened it and three Black women came in, two of whom were heavily pregnant. All of them were too young to be Harlan’s mother. They pushed past me and went to the bed, where Harlan was still balls deep inside Linda.

“You got towels?” the non-pregnant woman asked.

“Um, yeah, a couple,” I said.

“You’re gonna need a lot of towels,” she said.

I looked at Linda, then at Harlan. “I thought your mom was going to come deliver the baby,” I said.

Harlan shrugged. “This here’s April. She acts like my mom.”

“Who are the other two?” I asked. “Your sisters?”

He laughed. “No, those are a couple of my girls. They’re going to watch to see what it’s like for when their turns come. This is Debbie and Janelle.”

The door opened again, because I apparently hadn’t fully closed it. Three large Black men came into our apartment and shut the door behind them. I caught sight of the gun tucked into one’s waistband and just about shit myself.

“Hey guys,” I said. “I think you got the wrong apartment. Sorry.”

They nodded at Harlan. “We’re with him,” the biggest one said. He had a gang tattoo covering his right arm. His muscles were huge.

I looked at Harlan. “Dude. What’s going on?”

“They’re going to help me keep your sister’s pussy busy while she’s in labor. Makes it go faster to keep it filled with cum, like I told you.”

Linda stared at me, obvious fear in her eyes. A cold chill ran down my spine and my sweating got even worse.

“I really think we can handle it,” I said. “I don’t need much recharge time.”

The men laughed along with Harlan. He kept right on drilling my sister with his cock. “I got something for you,” he said. He looked at the man with the gun tucked into his pants. “You bring it?”

“Yeah,” the man said.

“Give it to him,” Harlan said.

For a moment, I was terrified Harlan meant for the man to shoot me so they could keep Linda for themselves. My heart jackhammered in my chest and my pulse worked overtime.

The gunman pulled out a syringe filled with clear liquid. He advanced on me.

“Whoa,” I said. “No, thanks. I’m good. I don’t need any more drugs.” I looked at Harlan. “Thanks, though. But, you know, no thanks.”

Harlan nodded to the men and the other two crossed the room and grabbed me, one on either side. I struggled and the big one slammed me into the wall, leaving a dent and nearly knocking me out.

Linda screamed.

“Stop it!” she yelled. “Don’t hurt him!” She craned her neck and turned her head toward Harlan. “Please, stop. I’ll do whatever you say.”

“Yeah, I know you will,” Harlan said.

I struggled with the men, but they pushed me face down onto the table and one immobilized my arm so the gunman could stick me with the needle right in one of my obvious veins. I groaned as warmth flooded me. The men released me and I slumped to the floor.

Linda was crying. “What’d you give him?” she asked. “Will it hurt him?”

“Nah,” Harlan said. “It’ll make him feel very good.”

They put a leather bit into Linda’s mouth and told her not to make enough noise to warn the neighbors or they’d kill me. I stared at her, knowing there was something I was supposed to do but too out-of-it to really comprehend what was going on.

The men took turns fucking Linda and the other three women and seemed insatiable. The big man picked me up off the floor, bent me over our table, and shoved his huge cock up my ass. I screamed and he slapped his hand over my mouth. The third man, who only stood apart because of his completely shaved head, gagged me with Harlan’s belt. The men worked me into their rotation, fucking me up the ass right along with the women.

When Linda started to bleed, the men stopped including her in their rotation. The women didn’t seem to do much except pile blankets and towels under her, which were soon soaked through. There was so much blood I was sure she was dying. I struggled against the man fucking me but he was the big one and held me down so I couldn’t move.

Some time after the sun came up, Linda passed out. The drug the men had shot me with had worn off long ago and every pounding cock up my ass felt like a bowie knife splitting my insides. They had my arms tied behind my back. Harlan was the one fucking me then.

“You owe me,” he said. “Six grand.”

I couldn’t articulate anything with Harlan’s belt stuffed in my mouth.

“Your bitch is gonna work for me,” he said. “She’s also gonna have my kid next, once this one’s out.”

“Harlan, honey,” the non-pregnant woman said. “Look.”

She pointed to Linda’s mouth. Blood seeped out of her open lips. She’d lost the bit when she passed out.

“Is that normal?” he asked.

She shook her head. I struggled with him and he slammed bahis siteleri my head against the table. I was dazed.

“Fuck,” Harlan said.

I’d never seen anyone move so fast. He threw me onto the floor, put his cock away, and followed his buddies out of the apartment, trailed by the women. A moment later, the gunman came back, with his weapon drawn. He aimed his gun at my head.

“Bye, fucker,” he said, and pulled the trigger.

* * *

My heart stopped.

There was a loud click as the gun misfired.

The gun man ejected that bullet and loaded another, then aimed the gun at my head again.

“Jordan!” Harlan yelled, coming back into the apartment. “What the fuck you doing?”

“You told me to waste him,” Jordan said blandly, as if they were discussing the weather.

“No,” Harlan said. “I told you not to waste him, you dumb motherfucker. I told you to come back and get my belt and not to waste the white asshole.”

“Oh,” Jordan said. He ripped the belt out of my mouth and handed it to Harlan. They left again.

I looked at my sister. She was lying in a lake of blood on the bed. They’d zip-tied my wrists together. I struggled to stand up and pulled my wrists apart with all my might. I couldn’t get the damn thing to break and my arms were behind me so I had no leverage.

All of a sudden, I remembered once when Linda was a kid and we’d been playing with zip-ties and she managed to tie herself to me. We looked up how to get out of them online because we couldn’t find Mom’s scissors. It was easy. They don’t break one way, but they break the other way under a little pressure. Now, how did that go?

I raised my arms up behind me as far as I could, then let them drop quickly against my hips. The zip tie broke right off.

I almost cheered, then I remembered my beloved sister and our baby were dying. I ran to Linda, picked her up in my arms, and raced out of the apartment. I ran down the stairs three and four at a time and burst out of the front door into the rain.

The hospital was five blocks away. It would take me almost as long to get us into the car than to run there. I ran for all I was worth. Once I saw the emergency sign, I put on a burst of speed and felt like an athlete as I sprinted the last block. I almost crashed into the double glass doors because they wouldn’t slide open fast enough. As soon as I was inside, I yelled for help.

A nurse saw me and raised the alarm. It was only after they’d taken Linda from me and raced her into surgery that I realized I was standing in the hospital foyer buck naked. I quickly put my hands over myself.

“Shit,” I said out loud, to no one in particular.

A nurse handed me a hospital gown and I covered my front with it. I apologized to the elderly lady sitting in the chair nearest me and she smiled.

“Honey, you ain’t got nothing to apologize for. I used to sew our boys’ cocks back on after they got blown off on the battleground. Ain’t nothing I didn’t see before.”

Two policemen came into the hospital through the emergency doors and made a beeline for me. My heart sank. They’d probably arrest me for trying to kill my family. I was pretty sure Harlan would have Jordan kill me if I involved him in anything to do with the law.

They flanked me and I looked from one to the other. The one a little behind me looked concerned when he saw my ass.

“You’re bleeding,” he said.

“I am?” I asked stupidly. I craned my neck around, but of course I couldn’t see my own ass.

The cops motioned to the nurse. She came over with a wheelchair and made me sit so she could wheel me into one of the curtained off cubicles in the triage area. A doctor looked at my ass and asked me if I was raped. Shame kept my mouth shut.

“It was just rough sex,” I said. “It got a little carried away.”

He exchanged glances with the two policemen standing right outside the cubicle. I felt very exposed.

“Can we close that curtain?” I asked.

The doctor slid the curtain shut, blocking the policemen from view. He looked me over a little more, pausing at the track marks on my arm.

“What do you use?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said. “Anymore.”

He nodded and continued his exam.

“There’s nothing wrong with you some decent rest and a bath wouldn’t cure,” he said. “We’ve got donated clothes in the bins outside receiving. I suggest you find some pants.”

A nurse led me past the doctor talking to the cops. She showed me the bins and I found a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt that fit passably. Then, she showed me to a small office with a desk and a filing cabinet. One cop sat behind the desk and the other stood beside the filing cabinet. They had me sit down opposite the desk and the nurse left and closed the door.

They asked me the basics—what was my name, where did I live, and so on. I answered exactly what they asked me. The one in the chair took all my answers down in a notepad.

“Okay, Mr. Quinn,” he said. “Who is the woman you brought in—the pregnant one covered in blood?”

“That’s my…sister,” I said. I had almost said bahis şirketleri wife.

“Is it your baby, sir?” he asked.

I looked from him to the other cop, then back again. I didn’t say anything.

“Incest between consenting adults isn’t a chargeable crime in this state,” he said.

I swallowed heavily. “Yes, it’s my baby.”

“Okay. Tell us the events of the last twenty-four hours.”

I had to think for a bit. Twenty-four hours would have taken us back to yesterday, before labor started, and before Harlan went Pulp Fiction on our ass.

I gave the cops an abridged version of the last day, leaving out Harlan completely. Of course, it sounded completely implausible. The cops looked at each other, then the one behind the desk, who had said his name was Sergeant Miller, spoke up.

“All right,” he said. “So, this midwife, who you didn’t know, came and sat with you while your sister was giving birth, then ran away when she started bleeding from her mouth.”

“Basically,” I said.

“How did you find the midwife?” he asked.

“A friend gave us her number.”

“What friend?”

“I don’t know him that well.”

“Do you have the midwife’s number?”

“No.”

“Do you have the friend’s number?”

“I, uh, think I lost it.”

He stared at me. “You entrusted your sister’s birth to a midwife you didn’t know who was recommended by a friend whose number you lost.”

“I guess so,” I said.

“What’s the friend’s name?” he asked.

“Um. I forgot.”

Cops have poker faces in general, but it was really clear on Miller’s face that he thought I was lying and, furthermore, an idiot.

“Why didn’t you call an ambulance when the blood became overwhelming?”

I shifted in my seat. “We, uh, don’t have any insurance.”

“You have no ID, and no insurance. Do you have any proof of citizenship or residence?”

“Not at the moment,” I said.

He balled his hands together on the desk and leaned forward.

“Your sister is in there fighting for her life and the life of your child. Do you understand that if one or both of them die, you may be held responsible due to your neglect and negligence?”

“I understand,” I said.

If my sister and my baby died, what did it matter what happened to me? I was well aware this entire situation was my fault.

He looked at the paper he’d written our address down on. He repeated the address to me. “You’re sure you can be found at this address?”

“Yes,” I said.

“In this case, you’re free to go. We may, however, be contacting you again in the near future.”

“Okay,” I said.

I hurried out of the room and grabbed the nearest nurse. She directed me to a coordinator, who told me Linda was out of surgery and in room 214 of the ICU. I rushed up there and stopped dead in my tracks when I saw her. She was small and pale in the hospital bed and my heart nearly broke at her preciousness. I was so relieved she was alive, I could hardly stand that she was still asleep. Then, I realized her baby belly was gone and it hit me. Where was my child?

I ran back downstairs and found the coordinator I’d talked to. I asked her where my baby was. She said he was in the NICU.

“He?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “You have a son.”

Tears burned my eyes. “Can I see him?”

“Yes,” she said. “Follow me.”

She led me to a glass box in a room of glass boxes. A newborn in a tiny white diaper and little blue cap lay inside the box. His face was the spitting image of mine. I got weak-kneed and had to grab the cart under the box. I put a hand over my heart. The nurse watched warily.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “Is he okay? Why is he in a box?”

“He got some meconium in his lungs during all the fuss, so he needs the oxygen rich environment for a few hours. Other than that, he’ll be fine.”

Tears ran down my cheeks and I decided I didn’t care who saw me cry. There were sleeves leading into the box where a person’s arms could go so you could touch the baby. The nurse had me wash my hands carefully and sanitize them, then she let me touch my son.

“Human contact is best for them,” she said. “As long as you’re gentle, you can touch him as much as you want.”

She brought over a chair for me and I sat there for ages, staring at him and holding his tiny little hand. It looked so fragile in mine, with five perfect teeny fingers, that I wept just from the sight of it. I realized we hadn’t even thought about names. I wanted the best name for him that I could find, a name of warriors and kings. Something that would bring him great fortune in life.

As I sat there, holding my newborn’s priceless hand, with the events of the last day floating around in my mind, I knew 100% that I was on the wrong path. I wasn’t who I was supposed to be. I’d been on the right path and got badly sidetracked, but I had to do whatever it took to get back on the right path. I ached for a hit of XM but I knew for certain that I’d never experience that high again as long as I lived. The thought made me both sad and determined.

I had a son, now. A tiny little person completely dependent on me for his life. He wasn’t going to grow up in a slum with a drug-addicted father and a whore mother. I wanted to call my parents, but didn’t want to leave my baby’s side.

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