Prison Throne Read Online Free Page B
banged on it with authority. Just as he thought, Donald pulled the door open halfway and glared at him. “Be gone, nigga,” he said with fire in his eyes. “I’m not in the mood right now.” Rasim’s eyes trailed from his floating eyeballs down to his dick, which was red and dripping with blood. Donald slammed the door in Rasim’s face before he had a chance to hold the memory.
Worried, Rasim dropped to his knees and lowered his head. The dry, gray carpet brushed against his face as he peered through the slat under the door. Now he could see Sheila bent over the toilet throwing up while Donald raped her from behind.
What part of the game is this? Rasim thought.
He leaped up and exploded on the door with heavy fists so hard that his knuckles burned. Through it all Donald did not come out.
Rasim didn’t realize until the next morning that he dosed off on the floor from exhaustion. When he finally did, it was far too late.
****
The cool handcuffs around Rasim’s wrists were uncomfortable as he rode in the back of a police car. It had been a long two days since Donald raped Sheila and his life would be changed forever.
For starters, a swift boot to the gut from an angry DC police officer awakened Rasim. Before he could determine what was happening, his arms were seized from the back and he feared his shoulders would pop out of the sockets.
Rasim wasn’t alone. His friends Chance and Brooklyn were also arrested and led to the police car as if they all partook in the crime. The only light at the end of the tunnel was that three cars up, he could hear Donald clearly yelling, “Leave my friends alone! They didn’t have shit to do with this! I fucked the bitch not them!”
Rasim respected the clarification and he still loved him too. But he wished he hadn’t gone so far. He figured it was because of his parents that he was the monster he was.
It wouldn’t stop the officers from stuffing the teenagers in their cars and chauffeuring them to the station, only to bombard them with a thousand questions.
In a bitch move, Sheila claimed they all were involved even though her statement couldn’t be further from the truth.
The investigation was mental torture on Rasim and his homies. And although spit flew out of the officers’ mouths and slapped against their faces as they yelled at Rasim, Brooklyn and Chance, they didn’t say a mumbling word.
In the end, Donald would be transported to prison. And Rasim Nami, along with his other homies, were transported to Strawberry Meadows, a group home for troubled youth, thereby breaking his parents’ hearts in the process.
CHAPTER 2
SNOW BRADSHAW
WASHINGTON, DC
April 10, 1995
Please don’t ask me anything. Please don’t ask me anything, Snow chanted repeatedly to herself as she sat across from her parents, Lamont and Maureen Bradshaw, at a huge black lacquer dining room table.
She was awful at mingling and always said the wrong thing.
Her light skin reddened as it did whenever she was in social situations. She felt this way whenever her parents forced her to Nadine’s house in the hopes of encouraging Snow to be interested in Nadine’s son.
To her right was Morris Hope, a seventeen-year-old church boy with a slight slack jaw problem, which caused his mouth to hang open longer than most. His arm hung around the back of her chair and his sweaty pit brushed against her arm, which made her so annoyed she screamed to the Gods on the inside.
“Dinner is almost ready,” Nadine announced as she floated out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a white hand towel with tiny blue doves spread throughout.
Although she was talking to everyone present, she was observing Snow. Nadine considered her hazel eyes, her naturally light brown skin, and could already see the faces of
Worried, Rasim dropped to his knees and lowered his head. The dry, gray carpet brushed against his face as he peered through the slat under the door. Now he could see Sheila bent over the toilet throwing up while Donald raped her from behind.
What part of the game is this? Rasim thought.
He leaped up and exploded on the door with heavy fists so hard that his knuckles burned. Through it all Donald did not come out.
Rasim didn’t realize until the next morning that he dosed off on the floor from exhaustion. When he finally did, it was far too late.
****
The cool handcuffs around Rasim’s wrists were uncomfortable as he rode in the back of a police car. It had been a long two days since Donald raped Sheila and his life would be changed forever.
For starters, a swift boot to the gut from an angry DC police officer awakened Rasim. Before he could determine what was happening, his arms were seized from the back and he feared his shoulders would pop out of the sockets.
Rasim wasn’t alone. His friends Chance and Brooklyn were also arrested and led to the police car as if they all partook in the crime. The only light at the end of the tunnel was that three cars up, he could hear Donald clearly yelling, “Leave my friends alone! They didn’t have shit to do with this! I fucked the bitch not them!”
Rasim respected the clarification and he still loved him too. But he wished he hadn’t gone so far. He figured it was because of his parents that he was the monster he was.
It wouldn’t stop the officers from stuffing the teenagers in their cars and chauffeuring them to the station, only to bombard them with a thousand questions.
In a bitch move, Sheila claimed they all were involved even though her statement couldn’t be further from the truth.
The investigation was mental torture on Rasim and his homies. And although spit flew out of the officers’ mouths and slapped against their faces as they yelled at Rasim, Brooklyn and Chance, they didn’t say a mumbling word.
In the end, Donald would be transported to prison. And Rasim Nami, along with his other homies, were transported to Strawberry Meadows, a group home for troubled youth, thereby breaking his parents’ hearts in the process.
CHAPTER 2
SNOW BRADSHAW
WASHINGTON, DC
April 10, 1995
Please don’t ask me anything. Please don’t ask me anything, Snow chanted repeatedly to herself as she sat across from her parents, Lamont and Maureen Bradshaw, at a huge black lacquer dining room table.
She was awful at mingling and always said the wrong thing.
Her light skin reddened as it did whenever she was in social situations. She felt this way whenever her parents forced her to Nadine’s house in the hopes of encouraging Snow to be interested in Nadine’s son.
To her right was Morris Hope, a seventeen-year-old church boy with a slight slack jaw problem, which caused his mouth to hang open longer than most. His arm hung around the back of her chair and his sweaty pit brushed against her arm, which made her so annoyed she screamed to the Gods on the inside.
“Dinner is almost ready,” Nadine announced as she floated out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a white hand towel with tiny blue doves spread throughout.
Although she was talking to everyone present, she was observing Snow. Nadine considered her hazel eyes, her naturally light brown skin, and could already see the faces of
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