"The Scream," by Raina Swopshire

I pass the bottle of D’USSÉ to my husband, Juice, on my left. I cautiously watch him take two huge gulps. I shouldn’t worry about if it will be a good night or not; he usually only turns abusive if he drinks something cheap like Christian Brothers. But still, I can’t help but wait for the other proverbial shoe to drop on my goodnight. Juice’s cousin, Bain, is here visiting us from Detroit. They’re also best friends so it was only right we welcomed him with a bottle. Although Juice’s excessive drinking usually turns me off from partaking tonight, I plan to let nothing ruin my night. 

As we near the end of the bottle, I’m lost in the sounds coming from our speakers. Young Thug’s ‘Jeffery’ album is playing, and I am in awe of his talent. He played every instrument himself used on every track of this album. As I sing to ‘Ri-Ri’, I know they are going to want to get another bottle to drink, and tonight I’m down. I don’t want this good vibe to end, so I won’t put up my usual protests. Sure enough, as soon as the thought ends in my head Juice says, “Aye, we need anotha one of these.” 

I look at the time. It’s going on 3 AM but I’m in Vegas; a long way from Indiana, so the liquor store is still open. As we head outside to our Range Rover, we are all laughing and talking until the scream. It was the most blood-curdling scream I have ever heard. Soul shattering. Heart stopping. My hands shake as I try to pull the handle to the passenger side door. “What the fuck?” I question, with my eyes popping out of my head, looking franticly back and forth between Juice and Bain. 

“Kids still running around at night?” Juice offers an answer. As we get in, I think about this. Must be teenagers running and playing. Except we live in a quiet suburb. However, that is more likely to happen then where my crazy mind took me. I try to relax and get back in the mood since nobody else seemed to have the reaction that I did. 

As bottle number two gets passed around and Young Thug continues to play, my body is stiff as I try to dance, and my voice becomes robotic like an automated message as I try to rap his lyrics. I can’t ignore the scream. My mind keeps imagining all types of horrible reasons someone would scream like that. I try one more time to make sure I’m not tripping. I bring it up again, but Juice and Bain both tell me that to them, “it sounded like a young pre-teen girl screaming having fun as if she was playing tag. Chill out, you always thinking the worst have fun.” 

Sensing I was killing the mood, I let it go, but I had more questions. If she was playing tag, why was she the only one screaming? Where’s the other kids? And at 3 AM? But true, I did know as a kid we did the worst at 3 AM. But we were unsupervised in the hood. Not in a gated community on Sunset Blvd. Not wanting to start an argument or be the one to ruin the night, I do my best to ignore my racing heart and how I seemed to jump at even the slightest sound. Eventually, we finished the bottle and all pass out, sleeping in the living room. 

I wake with a start to someone stomping on my head. Wait, no, that’s not right. My head is pounding, and I remember all the D’USSÉ I drank. Then I hear it. It sounds as if the ice cream truck is on my porch blasting it’s music. Wait, that’s not right either. My phone is ringing over and over on the table. I grab it and read the screen: One One, my neighbor and best friend. Reluctantly, I answer, “What One One?” 

“Did you see what happened?” He responds. 

“What happened last night?” 

“What you talking about?” 

“About what happened last night.” 

“No, I just woke up when you called.” 

“I’m sending it to you now. She stayed across the lot by Auntie JoJo. Call me back.” 

He hangs up and I instantly get a text from him. I open it up and my palms start to sweat immediately. I can’t believe what I’m reading: Woman in Henderson stabbed to death by husband. I scroll down and sure enough at 3:09 AM someone called the police to Sommerset Park reporting a scream they heard. Police found one of my neighbors stabbed to death outside her condo. Apparently, her husband started to stab her while she was in bed sleeping. Her three kids were asleep in their rooms. She managed to get away and run out of the house. He chased her, caught her, dragged her back to the front of their home and finished stabbing her to death. She was screaming as she tried to run away. At the same time, we were outside heading to the liquor store. That realization makes everything in my stomach come up all over the table. Juice laughs saying, “Dang, you can’t handle yo liquor now?”  

I shove my phone in his face with the news report still pulled up and watch as his smile fades, eyebrows rise, and eyes go big. 

I knew there was something else to the scream.