When the check came, they both agreed not to let the night end. They went to a nightclub down the street and sat at the bar, drinking and talking. A Marvin Gaye song came on and they went out on the dance floor, hugging each other closely and swaying to the beat. He kissed her lightly on the lips as they danced to “Purple Rain” and she kissed him back deeply and passionately as the song ended.
An hour later, she was nestled close to him with his arm around her shoulders and her head on his chest as he hailed a cab.
“Where to?” the cabbie asked.
They looked at each other and Danika smiled again when Malik gave the taxi driver his home address.
“So, why did you act so weird around me at the office? I've been there a week and you never even looked at me.”
“Oh, I looked at you. I just didn't know why you were always looking at me. It made me nervous.”
“What? Did you think I was some kind of crazy stalker or serial killer or something?”
Malik chuckled. “Something like that.”
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to freak you out. I just wanted to get with you, so I was trying to let you know I was interested.”
“Girls like you aren't normally interested in brothas like me.”
“What do you mean, girls like me?”
Malik paused. He knew what he meant, but knew that it would offend her if he said it. “Sistas as pretty as you don't normally dig me. I mean, I know a lot of white girls are into my look, but you know how they are. Once they decide they're into brothas they ain't too choosy.”
“Don't tell me you've got self-esteem issues? You? I would never have guessed that. I mean, with a body like yours I'd think you could get any woman you want. I was worried that I didn't look good enough for you.”
“You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.”
He reached out and stroked his fingers through her thick curly brown hair, staring at her staggeringly beautiful face in amazement, amazed that she was actually attracted to him.
“Is that why you spend so much time working on this magnificent body of yours? You really don't believe you're handsome?”
She ran her tiny brown hands over his muscular chest as they huddled together in the back of the taxi. She slid them over his shoulders and up his neck, cupping his face in her palms. “I think you're the most handsome man I've ever seen.”
They were still kissing when they paid the taxi fare and stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of Malik's house. Malik was in heaven. It almost felt as if he was falling in love, on the first date, and with a woman whose skin was the color of cinnamon pastry. The whole thing made Malik as nervous as it did happy. It had been hours since he'd heard Kelly's or Jennifer's voices in his head. As much as it was a relief, it was also a source of worry. They had never gone away on their own like that, not without medication, or without Malik giving in to them and giving them what they wanted, and there was no way Malik was going to do that, and he hadn't taken his medication in weeks. Still, he hadn't heard those shrill scathing voices spilling their relentless stream of vitriol since he'd agreed to the date with Danika. Desperately, he hoped that meeting her had somehow ended their hold on him, which made him panic at the thought of her leaving him now or ever.
“Come inside for a while.”
“
This
is your house?”
It was a large single story with decorative stone all around the front entrance, a long driveway covered in stamped concrete that continued up the walkway to the front door. The front yard was desert landscaped with large palm trees and big shrubs of rosemary and sage. It was over two thousand square feet squatting on a lot that was about a fifth of an acre.
“I got lucky on this one. I bought it before the market went nuts. I only paid a hundred and eighty for it six years ago.”
“Wow. My house is half this size and I paid three hundred for it. I had to take an interest-only loan out and pray that the thing appreciates in five years so I can refinance. You did get lucky.”
“Come on in.”
He opened the door and they stepped into the foyer. They were in each other's arms kissing passionately before the door was closed. They undressed in a hurry, desperate for each other. Malik lifted her slim delicate body into his arms and carried her to the bedroom still kissing her passionately, their tongues dueling, lips bruising against each other. He laid her on the bed and kissed his way slowly up her thighs, pausing between them to taste her sweet musk, sending a quiver through her and stealing the breath from her lungs. He kissed his way up her stomach, kissed and sucked each nipple, flicking his tongue across them and making her moan, before returning to her lips. She was trembling all over when he finally entered her. She matched his rhythm as their flesh entwined in urgent thrusts, slowly at first and then with greater and greater urgency, building to a mutual orgasm that shook them both. They collapsed into each other's arms, catching their breath before making love once more. Their bodies complemented each other's perfectly. They made love without inhibitions, not holding anything back, exploring every inch of each other's bodies, getting to know all the spots that drove each other wild.
The night was half over when they lay spooned against each other, breathing heavily with sweat and semen drying into the sheets.
“You still think I only like white women?” Malik kissed the back of her neck gently.
“Oh, you definitely know how to appreciate a sista.”
He laughed. “I'll be right back.”
Malik got up from the bed. His legs felt as if they were made of Jell-o. He staggered into the bathroom and closed the door behind him, grabbing on to the sink to steady himself. He was just about to turn on the lights when he heard them.
“That bitch must be crazy fucking a big black scab like you. That nasty trifling ho! If you won't kill that bitch, then we will.”
Malik knew why he hadn't heard the voices in his head all day. Jennifer and Kelly weren't in his head anymore. They were right there in his bathroom.
He turned his head and watched as the two small shadows crept from his shower stall, forming the tiny teenaged bodies of the two girls who'd tormented him since grade school. They hadn't changed in almost twenty years. Kelly still wore her ruffled shirts with the Izod sweater and tight Gloria Vanderbilt jeans. Her hair was permed and straightened and hung down to her hips. Jennifer was dressed almost identically except her hair was Jeri Curled and she wore a denim jacket with Prince and Michael Jackson buttons pinned all over it and one lace glove. They both were carrying knives.
“We're going to cut that disgusting bitch's heart out.”
They kept fading in and out of the night. One second they were featureless silhouettes, shadows moving within the darkness, and the next their features were sharp and clear, knives glinting in the moonlight.
“You can't be here,” he said. “This isn't possible!”
Malik groped for his medication, shattering the mirror on the medicine cabinet as he ripped the door open and fumbled inside for the little prescription bottle.
“Are you okay in there?” Danika asked.
“We're going to kill that bitch. She shouldn't have touched you. You've contaminated her now with your filthy black African hands. You were probably just a mercy fuck anyway. She just felt sorry for you. You were her good deed for the day. A charity fuck.”
“Ewwww! That's so nasty! How could she do that with you?”
“She said I was handsome.”
“You're not handsome!”
“She said you were handsome! Ewwww!”
Malik found the bottle of antipsychotics and struggled with the childproof cap. He removed the cap just as Kelly stepped forward and slashed his wrist with the knife, fading back into the night after delivering the blow. Malik screamed as Jennifer lashed out and slashed the other wrist.
“We should just kill you. You're the one always bringing these whores here and forcing them to have sex with you, making them stoop to your level.”
“Malik? Are you okay in there?”
Danika knocked lightly on the bathroom door.
“No, let's kill her. She makes us look bad. She makes this filthy black nigger think he's good enough to be with us. He's so black he sweats oil.”
“Yeah, let's kill that high-yellow bitch!”
Jennifer reached for the doorknob and began to open it. Malik rammed into it, slamming it shut, and the two girls turned on him and began slashing at him, cutting up his forearms as he struggled to defend himself. He struck at them with his fists, but his arms passed harmlessly through the darkness as the two girls faded in and out of the shadows.
On the other side of the door Danika had heard enough. Something was wrong. Fear gripped her as she heard Malik in the bathroom arguing and fighting with someone who shouldn't be there, arguing about killing her. Just minutes ago she had been lying in his arms, thinking to herself how easy it would be to fall in love with this man. Now she was afraid that he was some type of psycho.
Danika hit 911 on her cell phone and left the line open as she rushed to gather her clothes. Whatever was going on in the bathroom was growing more and more violent. It sounded as if Malik was in pain. She was just about to run out of the house when something in Malik's voice made her stop. Maybe someone or something was really in there with him?
“Run, Danika! Get out of here!”
“Filthy black ape, black scab. You shit-colored African jungle bunny!”
Malik was covered in cuts and slashes when he came staggering out of the bathroom carrying a knife in each hand.
Danika watched him slash at the air and then slice his own forehead. Blood rained down his face and dripped from the wounds in his neck, chest, and forearms. Danika screamed as she watched Malik's face twist and contort, morphing between rage and terror as whatever demons he was struggling with made war within him . . . and he was heading right toward her . . . swinging the knives.
Danika ran. She didn't know where she was going. The house was big and she could not find her way to the front door in the dark, so she opened the first door she came to and ducked inside. It was the garage.
There were big metal canisters that looked like oil drums scattered here and there inside the garage, and Danika tried to tell herself that she had just seen too many horror films when she started to speculate on what might be inside. She began feeling along the wall for the switch to open the garage door, afraid to turn on the light for fear that Malik might find her again. There was no switch. She'd have to open the door manually.
“That half-white bitch shouldn't have been slummin' around with your big gorilla-lookin' ass. Ya black spook! You so black I can't see you at night until you smile.”
“He's so black he could hide in a coal bin.”
The voices coming from the house were sounding less and less like Malik and more and more like someone else. Like children's voices in stereo. It sounded as if he was possessed. There were more sounds of struggle as glass shattered and something heavy fell over with a thud. She heard Malik scream again and wondered if whatever was inside his head had slashed one of those knives across his throat and ended his suffering. But then she heard the voices again.
“We know that nasty redbone bitch is still here. We're going to find her. We'll kill her and then we'll finish you off too.”
“Nooooo!”
Malik screamed again and Danika stopped halfway to the garage door when she heard him sob and whimper. He was in pain. Those evil voices were torturing him.
“Leave him alone!” Danika yelled.
The garage door rose and Malik was standing there in the driveway, a knife in one hand, and the moonlight behind him, silhouetting his form.
“I said, leave him alone.”
She didn't know what she was doing. She didn't know what she was saying. All she knew was that she had to help. It might be the only way to save her own life as well as Malik's.
“You filthy slut! You'll fuck anything if you'll fuck this filthy black scab.”
“He looks like he's been dipped in shit.”
The voices no longer sounded anything like Malik. His lips didn't even move when they spoke. They were the voices of spiteful children. Conceited little girls who thought it was fun to ridicule anyone they believed to be less than them.
“You're wrong,” Danika said. “He's beautiful.”
“He's a nasty black ape!”
“He's a beautiful black man! You girls are behind the times. Black is beautiful now. Those light-skinned pretty boys are so eighties. Women want real men these days, and the bigger and blacker the better.”
“She's lying! Nobody wants you. You're just a big ugly black African!”
Malik was still standing there on the driveway holding the knife. His mouth still did not appear to be moving even as insults poured out of him. There were shadows hovering around him. As Danika looked she thought she could almost make out the silhouettes of two young girls. She even imagined she could see their faces twisted into smirks of superiority.
“They're wrong,” she said. “I wouldn't have come home with you tonight if that was true. IâI thought I was falling in love with you. We might have fallen in love together if these little bitches hadn't gotten in the way.”
Malik turned and looked right at the two shadows standing by his side. He had raised his knife to slash into them when the two police officers tackled him, knocking him into the garage right into the barrels. Three of them fell over and one of the lids came off. Danika screamed as a woman's torso tumbled out of the barrel followed by its head. The disembodied head spun as it tumbled across the garage floor, turning toward her. Even though the woman was dead, Danika could tell that she had been very beautiful, with long curly brown hair, light cappuccino-colored skin, and hazel eyes just like her own.