Body Count (Mind, Body, & Soul Book 1)

by Netra Antionette

She is not yours to measure, judge, or shame. She moves how she wants, gives when she chooses, and owes no one an explanation.

A woman’s body is not a battleground for respectability. It is a home. A temple. A playground. A kingdom. And she decides what to do with it—how, when, and with who.

Touch who you want. Taste what you crave. And don’t you ever feel bad about it.

But if you’re single, why—WHY—did I go to his bathroom, open that middle drawer under the sink (because I always do), and find a positive pregnancy test?

Oh my

And when I saw that, my stomach turned. Literally. I walked straight over, stood above them and threw up on both of their naked, nasty asses. Didn’t say a word. Just let it out—right on his back and all down her chest.

Well damn

Then he said, “Can I at least get one last kiss?” I tilted my head, gave him the softest smile I could conjure. “Yeah… I guess.” He leaned in slow, eyes closed like we were in some sad-ass movie. And just as his lips touched mine— I opened my mouth and bit the hell out of him. I bit his bottom lip like it owed me money. Felt the skin break and the blood hit my tongue like copper-flavored karma.

It was shaping up to be an amazing night. Until— “Can you be a little quieter?” he whispered. “I don’t want my mom to hear.” …What?

So when he finally inserted himself, I screamed. To the top of my lungs. Not from pleasure, but from pure disrespect. Because why are you too damn young to say “no” to your mama, but grown enough to invite a woman over here and ask her to be quiet while you hitting it?

Tears… real fucking tears

How your mama got better credit than you and a stronger WiFi signal in a house you claim is yours?

“But baby, if he’s anything like you, I wouldn’t give him the time of day.” She blinked at me, confused. “You talk too much and ask too many questions. And if that’s genetic? I’m good.”

“Right?! And still thought that baby was his. Said it ran in his family. His great-grandma or whatever had red hair. I hate a dumb nigga,” I said, cracking up.

Okay, that was weird. But what really stopped me in my tracks was the face on the screen. My whole face twisted. “Wait—hold on. Is that…?” Vane nodded slowly. “That’s Bracelet.” I blinked hard. “Bitch.”

I have a theory…hear me out. Is this man killing off the body count?

I do. That’s why I’m coming to get you. Get dressed.

So we gone ignore the fact that she never gave this man her address. He just started showing up.

You gotta love someone with your whole soul to stay after the storm—and even more to rebuild the whole house after.”

The one that is numbered as 11, and it was in the exact spot where your tongue automatically goes when you’re trying to be sexy. That poor tongue was lost. Just air and bad decisions over there.

Lmaoooooooo

Sir, you live in a two-bedroom apartment with three gaming chairs and one butter knife. Please be for real.

“You are rage in poetry form. You are heartbreak repackaged as resilience. You are softness wrapped in spikes because life never gave you space to be unguarded.”

Baby, I got my lick back two Tuesdays ago. I just came home and made tacos like nothing happened.

Let this be your warning: I talk too pretty to beg. I move too smart to get played. And if I ever do cry, just know I’m either on my period or planning your funeral. The next entry might just ruin someone’s life. Stay tuned. – Throat Chakra