Chapter 98 - Leaving Heaven

A/N: GP IS BACK! I'm so excited and ready to get back into the swing of things and for you all to enjoy this new chapter that been long awaited for. Thank y'all for sticking with me on this one and for the support. I'd love to read all the comments, tea, messiness, and thoughts you have! This is an emotional chapter, happy reading - Enjoy!

A/N Warning: This chapter contains mature themes.

Sade's POV:

— Detroit

It was Monday, and I was back to regular programming now that I was back from my winter vacation in Aspen. Drew had drove me back to Marshall's house from the airport while he was at work, and I was incredibly tired. I had unpacked as soon as I got home and took a quick shower. After, I had taken what felt like the best nap of my life! I was tired from the combination of jet lag, being high off of life (and probably a little off of the painkillers I was prescribed by the doctor too), and staying up all night long last night. None of us had gotten a wink of sleep before hopping right on a flight. So one could only imagine how fast I closed my eyes as soon as my body hit that soft bed.

All was peaceful, when I felt a presence by me. I assumed it was just me dreaming so I tried to go back to sleep, turning my body to the other side. Only this time, I actually did feel someone, and this someone gave me a gentle peck on the lips merely seconds later. It was Marshall, of course. Aside from the fact that he'd be the only man in the house, I could tell by the beard, the way his lips felt, and his signature cologne that was awakening my senses.

"Come on, let's eat. I'm sure you haven't eaten all day." Marshall said moving the blanket off my body, giving me goosebumps as he urged me to get up.

"All day? it's only like 4." I rubbed my eyes still very tired as I let out a yawn.

"Sweetheart, it's 7:51 at night. I let you sleep in while I cooked dinner." He snickered lightly.

Damn, did I really sleep all day long? I've been here since eleven something this morning so I suppose I did. Gosh.

"Oh, thank you. You didn't have to cook anything. I could've still made something for us." I start to say tiredly as he takes my hand, helping me out of bed.

"Why would I let you do that? Relationships are 50/50, Sae. You know better than anyone that cooking isn't only limited to women. I'm a man, not a child. I can make us dinner. And I wanted to so I did." He raised an eyebrow as he looked at me questionably.

Right. This relationship is 50/50. I'm in a loving relationship now. I'm not forced to do certain things that I don't want to do or that are "expected" of me as a woman. Learning to love Marshall properly is still taking some time. Sometimes I'm still unintentionally stuck in those old or toxic habits, but he always makes an effort to be patient and understanding with me. Regardless, I thought the gesture was very sweet of him. And honestly, him taking care of me was a non-sexual turn on. It made my heart flutter for him more. It made me giddy and warm inside.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to come out that way. It's just that sometimes I sti- " I started to ramble, beginning to overthink.

He quickly stopped me, silencing all my insecure thoughts by giving me a kiss on the lips.

"Chill. You don't need to explain yourself to me. I get it. We both have our moments. I definitely know I do. Plus, I took a look at your hand while you were sleeping to see how bad it was. You're in no condition to be doing anything with it right now, Little Miss Don Julio." He joked, making me laugh at the nickname that he seems to be calling me now after the incident.

"It was one time!" I defend myself, attempting to push past him playfully to the kitchen.

"One time too many." He grunted out.

I could hear the seriousness in his voice. I beat someone up with a bottle of Don Julio one time and now it's a personality trait of mines. I couldn't believe this - Unbelievable.

"Whatever." I smack my lips.

I get to the kitchen where I saw that Marshall had made my favorite, pasta. More specifically, chicken alfredo with a side of broccoli. He made and handed me my plate of food, setting it in front of me along with a drink before doing the same for himself and sitting across from me at the dinner table. The food was actually very good and well seasoned. He was never a terrible cook at all, just lack luster per se.

We ate and caught up on a few things. He asked how my trip was since we didn't communicate much during that time outside of when he called to check up on me. He gave me my space to have fun and enjoy my time with my girls, and I did the same in return by giving him his space and time to work on things in the studio and spend time with his homeboys. Nonetheless, I told him about how much of a great time I had and how Hailie genuinely seemed to enjoy herself. Of course, he had asked about Hailie and if she was straight. That was his daughter after all or his "baby girl" as he often refers to her as.

"But what about you though?" I checked in on him in a caring manner.

"Me? I was good. Kept myself busy with work, mainly. Actually, that's all I did. I never even left the studio." Marshall admitted.

"At all?" I exclaimed.

"No... Not unless it was to shower or eat. I practically lived there for a few days. It's fine." He said nonchalantly.

"Marshall." I scolded him in disbelief.

"Baby, I said it's fine. I've done it many times before. You know I'm a hustler. The grind doesn't stop just because I'm tired." He said, looking me in the eyes.

That's true. Being in the industry isn't always fun or easy. It can be draining, but the work doesn't stop. Not for anyone. Not for anything. It takes a lot of dedication and time when it comes to following your dreams. Even though we didn't share the same industry specifically, I still understood where he was coming from.

"That you are." I agreed, "And that's why you're so successful." I complimented with admiration.

"Thanks. I just wanted to get a lot of work done before the holidays; Ya' know what I'm sayin'? So I could be home and spend some time with you and my family... It's safe to say that I ended up finishing the album! Just need to work out a few kinks and it'll be ready to be released soon." He clarified cheerfully.

"Really?! Oh my god, I'm so proud of you, love! Eee!"  I squealed.

I got up from my side of the table and walked over to him, hugging him tightly over the shoulders from behind. I kissed his cheek before sitting back down to finish my meal. He sent me a smile in return. His smile was short lived, however. He had seemingly gotten into a deep thought after a while as we both began to quiet down, the silence settling in between us.

"Umm, actually I wanted to ask you something." Marshall pondered for a moment.

"Go for it." I encouraged him.

"Do you think you could give me your opinion on a song? I'm not sure if I should put it on the album."

"Sure. Although, I'm not sure I'll be of much help since music isn't really my thing. Has Naunie heard it?"

"Nah. I thought you'd be better since it's something you could probably relate to. See where I'm coming from." He explained.

"Alright. I can listen to it afterwards." I agreed.

He swiftly changed the topic and went over the filming of the music video for my diss track with me. He informed me that we were going to film it in a few days back in my city. I expressed my concern over recoding it in my house despite that being what I initially wanted because I didn't have any furniture since I bought it. He reassured me, however, telling me how he had already told the set designers and other workers that I'd need prop furniture for certain scenes. And looking back on it, that would probably be best because I don't think I even want to show anyone what the inside of my home looks like after what happened with my apartment. I wanted my house to be as private as possible. Even if that meant lying about beta furniture I had inside of it. Anyway, he also went over how I wanted it to look, and anything else that I wanted with them. He really was trying to make sure that it was to my liking; He had everything under control. I didn't have to do anything except for show up and be in front of the camera. I was excited, and couldn't wait.

— Later That Night, In The Studio

I was led to the home studio by Marshall who had my hand in his. He pulled out his chair that was designated solely for him and instructed me to take a seat in it; He didn't let anyone sit in this chair. Surprised, I did. He handed me his notebook to read the lyrics off of since he usually raps so fast that I tend to miss about half the song. I saw how he had his crazy handwriting of the original lyrics on one side, and then the neatly written ones for me to read on another that he clearly rewrote so I could comprehend it.

"Leaving Heaven?" I questioned inquisitively as I read the title.

That was an interesting one to say the least. I could tell just from that alone that this song was going to be an emotional one.

"Mhmm." He simply hummed in response.

"What's it about?"

He let out a sigh, leaning against the soundboard. He crossed his arms, taking a long glance at me before answering my question.

"It's about my upbringing. About what I went through with my shitty father, but also what it was like for me personally - Getting bullied and shit, picked on, kicked on. That all influenced who I am and what made me go so hard to make it." Marshall said with a base in his voice.

I nodded in response, listening.

"Like I said. I figured you'd be the one to understand me the most out of everyone when it comes to this song because I know you also struggled growing up. But you worked your ass off to escape it like I did too. It's not only that but..." He bit his lip as he took a pause, looking away from me.

"But what?" I softly asked.

"... I know how you feel about your father." He tip toed around the subject as my eyes shot up to his distastefully, "He's probably not dead yet, but I mean..." He trailed off.

But he means he could be. Or that he will be eventually if he isn't already. It's not like I would know anyways. I have no relationship with him. Never did. Never will. Marshall knows this is a sore subject for me. I don't like to talk about my deadbeat father or even think about him. He's nothing to me. Just thinking of him angers me. So bringing him up made me feel uncomfortable to say the least.

— Flashback, September 24th, Chicago

It was late summer. It was Marshall's first time visiting me in Chicago for a few days. I was showing him around the city, and we had ended up at my childhood home that my family still owned.

We were conversing, having an intense, emotional, and intimate conversation as we spoke about our pasts and childhood - More specifically about mines. We were on the topic of my parents by now. I had barely let him in. I didn't want to. I couldn't. I didn't want to allow myself to get hurt by trying to let someone get to know me or by spilling my guts. It happened one too many times before, and I refused to let it happen again.

I couldn't help myself though. When I was around Marshall I felt... Safe. It was like a calmness before the storm. Except the storm was never coming and it was simply my fear and past trauma making me anxious that the worst was to come. He was kind. He was reassuring. He was caring. He was understanding.

He grabbed my hand, holding it in between both of his as he looked me in the eyes.

"I'm here for you, Sae. You're not alone. I been through shit too." He proclaimed.

I couldn't physically bring myself to talk about my mother with him. Not yet. It was too soon. And the pain still felt fresh as if she had only left me yesterday. When in reality it had been years. So I decided to tell him about my father instead. At least I wouldn't cry. I knew I wouldn't because he held no place in my heart and never will... Or so I thought. Plus, it was only fair considering he had opened up to me about his parents less than a few minutes ago.

"I grew up without any parents. Well, I had my mom, but when she died I was left with nothing... She was all I ever had and known to guide me because I had no father. I suppose I had one, he just wasn't around." I opened up.

"What happened to him?" Marshall wondered.

"I don't know. No one ever told me. I asked so many times and was ignored. I spoke to him a few times because my mom wanted him to have a relationship with me as a parent, but he didn't care. I know it hurt her feelings deep down because she'd always cry afterwards, but there was nothing she could do about it. And after she was gone he truly went radio silent. So I really have no clue where he's at or what he's doing."

Marshall was listening closely, waiting for me to continue. His eyebrows were scrunched together in concentration.

"Not that I care though." I quickly added feeling angry all of a sudden, "I can't respect a man who doesn't take care of his own children. He was never there. Not once. Never showed up. Never supported me. Never told me he loved me. NOTHING. I feel nothing for that man. Nothing but anger and hatred. He wasn't the only man that disappointed me in life, but he was the first one. And that shit hurt, Marshall. I had to live with that shit for so long!" I raised my voice.

I had hot tears streaming down my face. So much for assuming that I was strong enough to talk about this, I thought to myself. I never really talked about my life often. It was only with very few people who were close to me, like Bama, Jordyn, and regretfully, my ex.

"It's okay." Marshall tried to console me.

He pulled me into a bear hug and let me cry in his arms, wetting his white t-shirt.

"No it's not!" I began to sob, "I don't think it's okay to feel the amount of hatred and rage I feel for that man. I don't think it's normal. It's can't be."

"And why can't it be? He ain't give a fuck about you. Why should you give a fuck about that motherfucker?" He spoke bitterly.

"I don't. If he were to die today and someone told me, I wouldn't be sad. I don't think I'd shed a single tear. That's scary to feel that way about someone who helped give life to me, but it's the honest truth." I stated coldly.

"Would you go to his funeral?"

"No. I wouldn't go to what's supposed to be a celebration of life and support him when he never supported me, his own child, whilst alive." I scoffed, "Would you go to yours?"

"Ha! Nah." Marshall gave a little smirk followed by a chuckle, " Not unless it was to spit on his grave."

Fair enough.

"He wasn't shit. And I blame him for not doing his part, but also thank him because he made me the man I am today. And I thank yours too, beautiful. 'Cuz now look at you."

— Flashback Over

"Mhmm. Play the song." I hummed.

He hit the play button on the soundboard and leaned back against it with his arms crossed. I started to hear the beat play and his deep voice filled the room immediately.

[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]

Yeah (I knew this day was coming)Sometimes, you gotta come back down (It's all going to hell now, man)Stoop to someone's level (Yeah)

Five dozen flies buzzin' over your headCall me the Grim Reaper, sleep is my cousinYou're dead to me now and I'ma be the last face you see'Fore you die 'cause in (Yep)My eye are tigers and I'm a survivor so I will rise up and (What?)Be triumphant 'cause when I'm looking at my legacy (Leg, I see)Bunch of dogs tryna dry hump itLike Triumph The Puppet, so I'm like, "Fuck it"Pile the carnage up 'til it's so high, it's touching the skyLet 'em all line up and attackSingle filing up in the stackCall 'em toy soldiers (Yeah)'Cause they just wind up on their backsNow the sky's nothing but blackBut I am not coming back, I done told yaI told the woke me to go to sleepBut still, they keep on provoking meThey're hoping to see me completely broken emotionallyBut how in the fuck am I not supposed to be wokeWhen these fuckers just keep poking me? Now

I started scanning over the lyric sheet so I could process every single word, bar, and hook to the best of my ability. As I did so, I could practically feel him burning holes into me. I could tell that he was staring into my soul as he watched my every expression, reaction, and movement.

I'm leaving HeavenI'm leaving HeavenAngels won't find meWhere I am going

I took notice of Skylar's voice on the audio. She was the only woman, that I knew of at least, that Marshall actively had on his album doing vocals for him. So when I heard her voice I wasn't surprised. Despite all of her disrespect and weird obsession with me, she was very talented. She had a nice voice and could genuinely sing. She didn't need to know that though , and I would never tell her so in a million years.

I've been down, kickedLike around six thousand times since I was a kidAs a child, picked on, clowned, beenCountless times I've been outedGotta remind myself of it every now and then (Yeah)So the route I went's self-empowermentIn a hole, taught myself how to get out of itAnd balance it with talents, wit'Cause life is like a penny (Life is like a penny)'Cause it's only one percentWho overcome the shit they've underwentI went AWOL like what my back was up againstDon't tell me 'bout struggle, bitch, I lived itI was five or six the first time I got my hind end kickedMalcolm, Isaac, and Boogie jumped me and took my tricycleAnd I don't know if I would call that white privilege, yeahBut I get it, how it feels to be judged by pigmentBesides getting it from both sides of the tracksBut I swore I'd get them backEven if it meant selling my soul to get my revenge and (What?)Thought of a scheme and it got me to thinkingIf I can believe in myself, I could prolly achieve itThat's part of the reason I do all my talking with inkAnd as long as I'm breathing, I vow to outsmart 'em and beat 'emA God with a heart of a demon, go at 'em and I'ma get evenLike I'm in the Garden of Eden, I'm 'bout to go off of the deep endThis evil is calling, I'm already seething and

I'm leaving HeavenI'm leaving HeavenAngels won't find meWhere I am going

Okay, so while Macklemore was keeping his room nice and neat (Yeah)I was getting my ass beat twice a week (What?)Looking for a place for the night where I could sleep (Yeah)Flippin' sofa cushions over just tryin' to seeIf I could find some change and scrape up for a bite to eatIf Denaun and me find a couple dimes a pieceTwenty five cents each'd get us a bag of chipsWe'd be glad to get that even if we had to splitWe'd do backward flips, looking back at itI think that would fit with the definition of not having shitCouple that with the fact my mother was batshitPop was a sack of shit, yeah, he died, but I gave half a shitYeah, which brings me back to the dear ol' dad that I zero hadSince a year-old, forty-seven year-old scabJust to hear them words, ear piercingLike my earlobe stabbed with a needle for an earringShould I feel upset? You were dead to me 'fore you diedMe? Tear no shedShould I have made a mural at your funeral?Had your coffin draped with a hero's flag?Where the fuck you were atWhen De'Angelo done hurt me real bad at the Rio Grande?Never met your grandkids, fucking cowardOnly guts you had was from your stomach fatI couldn't see your ass goin' to HeavenSo I'm asking for a pass to go to HellSo I can whip your fucking assI hate that I'll never get to say "I hate you" to your faceNo coming back from where I'm goingSky is dark, my soul is black, hand on the shovelDig with the blade of it then I step on the metalVendetta to settle, tell the Devil

I didn't realize I was crying until I saw a tear droplet hit the paper. That's when I started to feel everything. Marshall's song had made me feel so emotional that I physically couldn't hold it in. I didn't think that I'd be able to relate to someone as much as I do him. I didn't think a single song written by him would hit me so hard. I felt the words. I heard the raw emotion in his voice. I felt exactly what he felt. And not just because I lived it, but because that's how he intended for it to be for the listener.

I'm leaving Heaven (Yeah)I'm leaving Heaven (You know, I should dig your motherfucking ass up)Angels won't find me (Just to spit in your fucking face)Where I am going (Holding my baby pictures up like you're proud of me)I'm leaving Heaven (Fuck you, bitch)I'm leaving Heaven (You know what? Maybe if I'da had you)Angels won't find me (I wouldn't have went through half the shit I went through, so I blame you)Where I am going (Or maybe I should say, "Thank you")('Cause I wouldn't have been me, haha)

So you better, you better run (Yeah)You better, you better run (So I'ma let it go now, rest in peace)You better, you better run (Cocksucker, haha)You better, you better run (See you in Hell)

When the song finished, Marshall had asked me if I was okay, sensing my overwhelming sadness. I didn't even respond to his question. Instead, I simply said:

"Put the song on the album."

"I- Wha- Are you sure? But are you okay?" He second guessed himself.

"Yes..." I paused for a few seconds, "It deserves to be on the album." I reassured him.

"I'm sorry for making you cry with the song." He sympathized.

"Don't be. You were right when you said I'd be able to relate to it. It hit me on a personal level. A part of me is upset though. Upset for you because of how your father was so shitty to you. I'm sorry you were treated that way growing up. You deserved so much better than that. Especially from your own parents." I let out frustratingly.

"That's why I was on the fence about it. I didn't want to seem like an asshole for still hating my dead father, but some things are unforgivable." He said barely above a whisper.

"You're allowed to speak your truth unapologetically, love. It's your experience just as much as it's his."

He didn't reply. He was completely silent. The only thing I heard his breathing become uneven. I looked up into his baby blue eyes that were already looking at me that were glossed over. He had tears in them.

Without a second thought, I got up from my chair. I wrapped my arms around his torso, hugging him tightly. Without missing a beat, he wrapped his arms around my shoulders, melting into me as he broke down in my arms.

I comforted him in silence, allowing him his time to break down in peace without a worry or care in the world. He cried into me, not saying a word. He didn't have to. I was going to be here to hold him for however long he needed me to. I was always going to make sure he was straight: Mentally, physically, and emotionally. I loved him so I hated to see him hurting. Even if it wasn't my fault, I felt responsible for having to put the pieces back together; Not because I was forced to, but because I wanted to.

We stood still like that for at least the next few minutes. Then he lifted his head up, his lips still quivering. I felt my heart break for him.

"I hate his fucking guts. I can't stand his bitch ass!" He ranted with tears still flowing whilst I watched listening.

"I don't care if he died only three weeks ago, fuck him! I hope he was sent to hell, and I hope I see him there so I can finally meet him and beat his ass!"

I was looking up at him, not daring to interrupt him. He was looking straight forward with his arms still wrapped around me as if he was in a trance.

"I could never, and I mean NEVER EVER imagine abandoning my girls the way he did me. I don't care if they moved to the end of the earth trying to get away from me. I'd always find a way to stay close to them. Even when Stevie was angry with me for two years and refused to talk to me or even look in my direction for lying to them about being their biological dad, I STILL made sure my baby girl was safe and sound. I STILL made sure to tell them how much I loved them. Even when I was on the road making shit shake so I can provide for my family and ain't see them in MONTHS, I STILL found a way to fulfill my dirties as a dad. Fuckin' piece of shit." He yelled through gritted teeth.

"And then I'm standing here like a little bitch crying over a dude who didn't mean shit to me. He isn't even respectable enough to be called a man yet I'm over here crying in my lady's arm over him like I'm weak. Like I'm some type of little bitch boy." He scoffed.

"Uh uhh. You are not weak. Crying is not weak. Stop thinking that it makes you less of a man because it doesn't. Showing emotion isn't any less masculine - It has no gender." I quickly scolded him in a disapproving tone.

"Do you mean that or are you just saying that to make me feel better?" He questioned me suspiciously.

"I mean it, Marshall." I reached up to grab his face, forcing him to look down at me.

"I mean it. It's human nature... You know I love me a man that's in tune with his emotions." I coyed, trying to lighten up the mood.

"Do you, now?" He squinted his eyes.

"Yup. It shows your emotional intelligence and maturity level."

"Let me guess, you love yourself a mature man too?" Me lightly chuckled, licking his lips.

"Oh, you know it." I flirted back.

I was glad to have at least put a small smile in his face. Even if it only lasted less than 3 seconds, something was better than nothing. I could tell he wasn't necessarily happy, but he wasn't as angry as he once was.

"Baby, I want you to know how incredibly proud I am of you and how far you've come in life. I know it's crazy to say that because I haven't been in your life for long, but I see all the hard work you put in. All the literal blood, sweat, and tears that you sacrifice to make sure that you and everyone around you is okay, happy, and living well. It truly is your father's loss that he couldn't get to experience what it would've been like to have you as a son all because he was too much of a coward to be a real man. Don't ever feel bad for that shit." I told him softly.

"I appreciate you for always being there for me and believing in me... I've never had a woman as supportive and understanding as you. A lot of women always say that they can relate to me - Faking a struggle or something to get close. But you actually lived it like I did. You're a real one for that and for connecting with me the way you do." He expressed fondly.

"I love you, beautiful. I mean that shit... I love you." He confessed.

"I love you too, Marshall." I exchanged, giving him a passionate kiss on the lips.