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"never did i ever think this gang shit would get me to where im mentally and physically hurtin."
trigger warning:
this isn't based on true events. blood / guns / drugs / and death is included.
kentrell's pov:
i felt the cold air hit when i opened the door to my daughter, kind's room, as i seen her pictures of me and her plastered all on the wall.
along with her mom, y/n.
i felt that pain hit my chest, thoughts filled my mind of fond memories with my daughter shared in her last moments, i could break down and slam everything in here.
im hurting. physically and emotionally.
my only daughter.
killed by some gang niggas from the other side while taking my daughter out on a daddy and daughter date.
all i can hear is her tiny voice crying for me.
"daddy help me, it hurts."
"im okay daddy, i promise."
"i love you dada."
"fuck!" i screamed in complete anger and fustration, punching the wall of my daughters room where id be sleeping or watching movies with her, slouching down in the chair in pain, her voice screaming in my head.
they took my daughters life instead of mines.
that'll forever haunt me. to kill my child over some old beef? i never tried to look back at my past because i promised my kids ill never nobody hurt them when they're in my condition.
the day i should've been strapped up.
the day i should've been in handcuffs for some fuck niggas to run up on me and my child.
i turn around , seeing y/n's tiny frame standing outside the door.
she sighed in dispair as her body language and facial expressions could tell she was hurt.
my daughter should be here in MY arms.
"i told you to stop coming in here baby.." her sweet voice trailed softly and killed the cold room, as i glanced over at the things i bought her, still in the bags, one thing for sure...
