“Hop in, big man,” Ethic instructed. He looked in the back seat at Bella. “Watch your brother. Lock the doors. I’ll be right back.”

He felt the burner inside his shoulder holster, beneath his jean jacket, and walked inside. The lobby was now deserted, but he followed the florescent lights further into the building.

He opened door after door, finding patients sleeping quietly behind each one and cursing himself for ever walking out, leaving Alani, in the first place.

Ethic was normally controlled and collected, but his own thoughts tortured him. He had put her in this position. She was in a desperate state, trying to bury her family, because he had taken them away. The guilt was heavy; and as he pushed open a door at the end of the hall, only to find it locked, he knew he had found the right one.

Ethic knocked on the door, forcefully, with a flat hand.

His temper was raging, and his nostrils flared slightly at the thought of what was happening on the other side of the door.

“I’ll be out in a minute! Whatever it is, handle it!”

Ethic heard the old, white man’s voice and it was all the motivation he needed to plow through the door. He rammed it with his shoulder, twice, causing the hinges to break as the door flew open. Her tear-filled eyes, as she knelt in front of the man. The sight of his belt buckled undone, as if Ethic had interrupted just in the knick-of-time.

Ethic drew on him and placed the gun, point blank, on the man’s head.

“You ever put your hands on her again and I’ll kill you,” Ethic threatened. He didn’t yell, but his eyes burned with so much conviction that he may as well had been shouting.

The man held up his hands. “I’m…I’m sorry. Just take her. Just go…”

Ethic wanted so badly to curl his finger on the trigger; but instead, he looked at Alani. “Let’s go,” he said.

Her reaction took him by surprise, as she pushed by him with anger. “Mind your God damned business,” she snapped, through gritted teeth, not sparing him a ghetto girl neck roll as she rushed down the hall before disappearing into the bathroom. Ethic blew out a sharp breath, in frustration. He had never understood black women. When they should be appreciative, they showed anger. When they should be happy, they cried. When they should be sad, they were frustrated. Black women were anomalies to the black man. No matter what they did, it always seemed to be the wrong thing; and now, he had to go about figuring out what he had done wrong when all he had were good intentions in the first place. Putting together her puzzle would prove challenging. He swiped his face with a hand of frustration, as he was taken aback by her unexpected response.