Terror Firsthand #34: Trying to get to the Top

 ©Terror Firsthand is a fictional blog series that was created in 2024. It is for entertainment purposes only, and I wrote it from the top of my head. Photos are reenactments and dramatization. The following story is for mature audiences only. Please, do not try any thing dangerous at home. 

Warning: extreme terror, sexual content 

Terror Firsthand: Trying to get to the Top 

The next day, I decided to shoot a music video. First I went to the beach and shot a couple of scenes there. Then I went to a gas station and shot some scenes there. Then I went back to the Santa Fe Hotel and shot some scenes there. As I was walking back out to the back patio to shoot a clip, the bikini models from yesterday were out there shooting a music video with the same hispanic guy. They were shaking their asses like strippers while he was rapping and throwing ones at them in Spanish. I didn't understand anything he said except the words "marijuana" and "peligroso" and "soy un jefe" and "vivo en Nuevo Mexico". I knew he was saying something about he is a boss and it is dangerous living in New Mexico and he smokes alot of marijuana. That's the only part I understood. 

There were a bunch of extras hanging around in their video and I began to feel like one of them so I started to turn around and walked back up to the room. That's when one of the extras asked me do I wanna hang. I told them no and then went back to my room. I did not want to be at the Santa Fe Hotel anymore. There was way too much competition there. I didn't even want my footage there anymore so I deleted all of the clips off of my camera and moved to a other spot called La Santa Muerte Hotel a few minutes away. The place was extremely vacant.

When I checked in, there were statues everywhere. I felt like I was inside of a Botanica, and I was. The botanica was attached to the hotel. When I got inside of my room there, it was fireproof. Everything was made out of flame retardant material and the walls were fireproof. There were statues all around the room and pictures of Santa Muerte all over the wall. I felt like I was in Tepito or something. There were fresh flowers everywhere. There was marijuana and liquor in there too. I had never seen a hotel so beautiful! 

La Santa Muerte Hotel 

I took pictures inside the room and posted them to Instagram. I accidentally left the comments on. Positive comments followed. People were saying that I make great music and that I'm a real Santa Muerte devotee. Then people were leaving heart emojis and smiley faces. I knew right then and there that La Santa Muerte Hotel was were I wanted to be. 

I started blowing marijuana inside the room. It was a weed friendly hotel. They had a sign at the front desk that read:

Weed smokers must smoke indoors, cigarette smokers must smoke outside. No gays allowed. Gays must go to a gay hotel. 

The whole building smelled like weed. It smelled great! I saw people smoking all over the place. There wasn't a bar inside, because they didn't need one. The liquor was already in the room. Plus, I didn't see any f*ggots walking around. I felt safe.

The room was divided into two parts, separated by a door. One side of the room was where the candles and statues were. The other side was where the bed was. I got hungry. I clapped my hands twice and a shrimp quesadilla with guacamole and sour cream appeared. After I ate, I started listening to Santa Muerte music. All of the Mexican artists took over my speaker. They were all singing and rapping in Spanish and I understand almost all of the words. I kept using the translator on my phone to check to see if I was right, and I was always right. Once you learn Spanish, you understand it. I speak on an intermediate level. 

A few days later, the guy from the Santa Fe Hotel knocked at my door and asked me did I want to be in his new video. I told him I wasn't interested and he disintegrated into ashes. It was crazy. I wanted my own video to blow up. I didn't want to be included with those gay lesbo strippers he had. I'm not gay. That same day, I cut on the TV and finally - Marcus Goldman's face was on there and so was Big Ski.

"50 year old Marcus Goldman was found deceased in a warehouse in Chicago. Over 900 captured prostitutes were freed from the sex trafficking ring, which was located inside of the warehouse, which brought in millions of dollars. Some of the women were beaten, raped, and starved to death. The cause of Marcus Goldman's death is ruled a homicide. He was found with his throat slit inside of one of the warehouse's "sex rooms". Said the Chicago reporter. 

"Marcus Goldman brought the criminal organization from big time sex trafficker Christopher 'Big Ski' Figueroa, who had been running the operation for more than 5 years. Big Ski was wanted back in January for operating the sex trafficking ring but was acquitted of all charges due to lack of evidence. He is now facing charges of m****r, after stabbing Goldman in the neck over a money dispute. According to one of the guards, whose name is Leroy, Marcus Goldman owed Big Ski over $500,000. He is being held in the Chicago jail on a 1 million dollar bond" The reporter continued.

I immediately knew that Marcus Goldman did not pay Big Ski the full 1 million for the stable. I still don't know where Big Ski got the other $500,000 from that he needed to start La Marijuana Botanica tienda that day. 

"Christopher Figueroa's marijuana dispensary was seized and also all of his estates. Some 13 of the recovered bodies of deceased prostitutes were also found in the warehouse. All 13 of the victims, died from starvation." The reporter said.

"It was like living in Africa." One of the victims, who was hiding her face said. "I didn't know people died of starvation like this here in the United States. And right here in Chicago to be exact. It is very traumatic." The victim said. 

"Christopher Figueroa's girlfriend, Jamaica Rosenberg, was also arrested in the sting. She played a part in helping Big Ski run his operation. She owned a Lamborghini and also lived in a million dollar mansion, which was also seized. She is being held on a $100,000 bond." The reporter continued.

Jamaica Rosenberg was obviously the one I saw at the store that day, unless he had another b*tch that was driving a Lamborghini. There was no picture of Rosenberg on the screen. I didn't want to jump to any conclusions. The news report on Big Ski and Marcus Goldman was 2 hours long but I watched the whole thing. There were more prostitutes on there ratting him out. Even Waterfall Lucia ratted him out. She didn't even hide her face.

"Big Ski was a horrible person!" She cried. "He made me sell myself 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year! I never got a day off! He made me sleep with over 30 men every day for a whole year! He never let me go to the doctor to get checked! He was evil! " She was crying like a baby for attention.

I hated those women. They were snitches. Big Ski may have been a evil person, but he was still a human being. A human being that I was in a relationship with. They were all on there hating on him to the max.

"Some of the prostitutes were given hospital treatment and 35% of them turned up with a deadly disease." Said the reporter in the Saturday night news special. 

After the 2 hour news report went off, I received a collect call from Big Ski in Chicago. I accepted.

"Listen, before you hang up. I did not murder Marcus Goldman, Rosenberg did!" He told. I was hoping he wouldn't tell on anyone. If he'll tell on his own b*tch, he'll tell on me too! 

"Now look. I need you to go to C and go to the W, and go near the front shotty in the back. Dig 5 deep and get it. Get the D out and come B me out. Ya dig? Don't turn on me." He said. 

There was no way that I could fu*king trust this nigga. He had put me through so much already and then told on his bi*ch on a jail call. I was really afraid of him. Basically he was telling me to go to Chicago and go to the warehouse and go to the shed that was in the back and dig a five inch hole and get the money out and then bail him out. He was trying to tell me he had the bail money. 

"Ok. I'll do it." I said.

"Thank you La Reina Negra. I knew I could trust you. I will always love you no matter what." He said, in the most masculine tone he could muster.

I was still grossed out by Rosenberg being gay. He shouldn't have been f*cking with that nasty girl in the first place. 

"I will call you in one week, and keep yo hair sleek. Please hurry. I will make sure you get another penthouse. Just complete this one task, that's all I ask, for me baby. Ya smell me?" Said Big Ski, sounding like the pimp he was. 

"Okay." I said. 

Then he hung up. I checked out of La Santa Muerte hotel in New Mexico and headed back towards Chicago in the Tesla. The drive took a couple of days. After I arrived at the warehouse, it was taped off and blocked. There was ghetto yellow crime scene tape everywhere. There was no way I could go to the shed to get the money. I decided to drive to the outskirts of Chicago and rest for a week until I received another call from him. I figured I'd go back to New Mexico after the heat died down and Big Ski was freed. 

While in Chicago, I was worried about those prostitutes though. Like I said earlier, they were snitches, and they were all running the streets freely without Big Ski or Marcus Goldman around. Apparently Daddy Leroy and Madam Andy were walking around somewhere free too. I received a call from Get On Yo Knees podcast, but I declined. I didn't know if they were rats like Gayboy City or not. 

Two days after hiding on the outskirts at a hotel, I decided to cut the Get On Yo Knees podcast on. I couldn't believe my eyes. Jamaica Rosenberg was free from jail already and it was in fact the same gay woman that I saw with him that day.

"Free Big Ski... He is my nigga and nan none of your raggedy hoes can have him. He will be out in no time and back with me. Fu*king me and paying for my bills, while you bi*ches sit at home crying." She stated. 

Jamaica Rosenberg on Get On Yo Knees podcast in Chicago 

Everything Rosenberg was saying was a goddamn lie. Big Ski was not her man. He was a pimp. She told on him and then after some p*ssy ass nigga decided to bail her out, now she want to claim Big Ski because her nosey ass probably knew I was back in town and came to get him back, so I could live in a new penthouse. Rosenberg was a lesbo, and a materialistic one. She just wanted Big Ski's money. The b*tch was gay, trying to turn Big Ski out. Then she had the nerve to wear a "Free Big Ski" T-shirt.

"If any of y'all hoes looking for Big Ski to pay y'all bills you are sadly mistaken. He is mine forever!" She screamed.

"Who bailed you out?" Amir Wiggins asked.

"Oh, my homegirl Sasha bailed me out." She replied. 

A picture of Sasha came on the screen. Her and Sasha was twerking in bikinis in the picture like they were in a sex brothel or something, and Rosenberg was groping Sasha's ass. Both of them had their tounges out in the pic, like they were fags. Sasha was the same one that was in the blue Lamborghini that day at the store. I was disgusted by what I was seeing. Sasha and Jamaica looked liked they were way more than just homegirls. I cut the TV off. She kept saying the same thing over and over about how all these b*tches better fall back from Big Ski and how she would embarrass them if they didn't. 

I called Get on Yo Knees back and asked Amir Wiggins if I could fend for myself, but he did not respond. I guess I should've just went live when he asked me to. Right after that I received a phone call.

"Hello?" I asked the caller.

"This is Leroy, Big Ski told me to take you to the shotty, so just give me your address and let's go. I'll come pick you up. You need to trust me. Don't drive." Said Leroy, sounding convincing.

"I'm not in Chicago, I'm 2 hours away." I replied.

"Well just come to Chicago. Then park your car in a garage and send me the addy. The sooner the better!" He said.

"Okay. I'll check out now and head that way!" I said. 

"Call me as soon as you arrive!" Said Leroy. 

"Okay." I said, and hung up the phone. 

I immediately checked out of the hotel and drove back to Chicago. I found a parking garage and then texted Leroy the address. He arrived within 10 minutes. I got inside of his Range Rover and rode with him to the shed. I walked with him right past the police tape and headed to the back where the shed was. He started digging a 5 inch hole. Nothing was there. He digged and digged for hours, but nothing was there. A police started riding past the warehouse and he said that it was time to go. After  the police rode past, he walked me back to the Range Rover, which was parked around the corner. 

"That f*cking bitch Jamaica must've took it!" Leroy screamed! "That's must be how that fu*king rat got out!" He yelled.

I didn't know who to trust. Leroy said on the news that Marcus Goldman owed Big Ski money. Why would he do that? 

"What the fu*k? Y'all niggas playing me or something? I saw that b*tch Jamaica on Get On Yo Knees. She was bragging and s*it about being with Big Ski." I said. Then I showed Leroy the video. He was furious.

"F*cking bi*ch! How did she find the fuc*ing stash?!" Leroy screamed. Then he said this. 

"Come with me to my hotel. You and Big C. You're staying with me until I find out what the fu*k is going on." He said. Then he drove me to a hotel called The Blue Diamonds Hotel. 

It was a 6 star hotel. He pulled up to the valet and I hopped out of the car with him and my dog and went inside to his room. There was a perfect view of the city. It was a huge penthouse suite with everything in it. He told me to take a shower and then to get in the bed with him. I did. He pulled out his d*ck and started fu*king me. 

"Call me Daddy Leroy like old times!" He said. 

The sex lasted for about 20 minutes and then he stopped. That's when Big Ski called. He put the conversation on speaker phone after he accepted.

"Nigga the D missing I think R finessed it! Nigga did you tell that f*cking b*tch about my balloon?" Leroy said, talking in code. I assumed he was asking did Rosenberg steal the stash. Balloon was the new code word for a hole in the ground with a stash box buried in it.  

"What the fuuuuuuuuuuuuccccccccck! Noooooooooo!!!!!! I did not tell that f*cking bi*ch! Nigga you gotta be kidding me! My nigga are you fu*king serrrrrrrious!? This can't be happening!" Said Big Ski.

"And nigga she all over the podcast bragging about how she is your bi*ch!" Leroy yelled.

"Hell no. No. No. Noooooooooooo!!!!! This f*cking bi........" Big Ski slammed the phone down and hung up. 

He sounded like he was really telling the truth. He was furious to the bone. Somebody stole the money. It might've been Sasha. It could've been anybody. It could've been Leroy. I don't even fu*king know. 

After that, Leroy started walking around the suite pacing the floor like he was nervous. He didn't know what to do. He needed to figure something out, and fast. 

I fell asleep in Daddy Leroy's penthouse suite. He stayed up all night, calling different people trying to figure out who stole Big Ski's secret stash. He even said that Desarae Anderson could have done it. Any of those other guards could have done it. There's no way that any of the prostitutes did it because they couldn't get out, and they didn't understand the code words that Big Ski used. Either Rosenberg or one of her little gay girlfriends did it, or one of the guards. Plain and simple. No one else knew about the stash. Not even the police. Big Ski was the only one that knew that the "balloon" was there. 

Big Ski finally called Daddy Leroy. He didn't put the conversation on speaker this time, but I heard Leroy talking. 

"Yeah nigga. Imma handle that. Then imma get back to you." He said, before the call ended.

The phonecall was extremely short. Then Daddy Leroy started talking to me.

"There's going to be a meeting tonight, here in the suite. Today will be the last night here. You can not leave until the meeting is over." Said Daddy Leroy.

"What kind of meeting?" I asked, scared outta my underwear that it had something to do with sex trafficking.

"Don't ask any questions. Just do as you are told, and you will survive it." He replied.

I sat around so nervous, I couldn't even eat. At 8pm, Daddy Leroy told me to put on a black dress. I hopped in the shower and put on a black Dolce dress. After I put on the dress, he told me to go sit at the large conference table. 

At 10 pm, people started showing up. Desarae Anderson, and about 20 of the other guards that I did not know were there. The penthouse was packed and everyone was forced to wear black for Marcus Goldman's sorry ass. Everyone was there except for Jamaica Rosenberg and those raggedy bi*ches that she was always with. 

"Let's have a moment of silence for Marcus Goldman. He will forever be apart of this organization. From now on this organization will be called Free Big Ski. After this meeting you all must wear the Free Big Ski shirt everyday until he is freed and you must wear it everywhere you go. You are not to leave Chicago for any reason. If you do, well, you already know what's up. I have eyes all over the city." Said Daddy Leroy to the people there.  

"Now, raise your hand if you know what the code word "balloon" means." Said Daddy Leroy. 

No one raised their hand. Nigga started scaring me. Either him or Jamaica f*cking did it, or either they were all silent thieves. 

"That's what I thought." He continued. 

My stomach dropped and I was about scared out of my motherf*cking mind. Leroy was probably the only one that knew what a balloon was! Who knows! 

"Does anyone know why Jamaica Rosenberg and her friends aren't here?" He asked.

"No." They all replied. 

During the meeting, Big Ski called from jail. Daddy Leroy put the phone on speaker.

"Listen motherfu*kers. Do you know why Jamaica and her friends are not there?" He asked.

"Is it because Rosenberg and her friends disappeared and vanished without a trace?" Asked Daddy Leroy to Big Ski. 

"That's right." Said Big Ski. 

"And if anybody steals from me again, then you know the f*cking rest!" He said, from behind bars on the speaker phone.

The room was silent. Rosenberg was either missing with the money or deceased somewhere. I didn't care to find out.

After that, the call ended and everyone was given a Free Big Ski T shirt, and the meeting came to a close. The Free Big Ski T shirts that Daddy Leroy handed out were not the same T-shirts as the one Rosenberg had on. It was a different design and everything. It was clear that Rosenberg was just a bogus b*tch and a actor like I had already said. She had that shirt made herself to look like she was down for Big Ski and she wasn't. She played the role of his woman until sh*t got real. Then she turned her back on him. If she was still alive, it was just a matter of time before she was found dead somewhere. Everyone left the suite. I started to leave the penthouse and then Daddy Leroy said,

"La Negra Reina, wait right there. Do not leave."