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8

pigs

i made it home right around 6 in the morning which was perfect because my mom wakes up around seven for her morning run. my brain was still spinning trying to think about how i'm going to talk to lana when her number is in my currently jailed phone. i was also wondering if she's tried to text or call me yet. fuck. i should be sleep but i can't stop thinking of her.

what is this girl doing to me?

it was a saturday night and i am laying in my bed watching episode three of Eyes On the Prize while writing my essay, which i was already on page five of. everyday i get to talk about the modern day genocide of the african-american community. there's several black men dying everyday. not only the males, but also the females. it baffels me how even though black women are being harmed and murdered as well, they get no where near as much attention as black males. it only shows how much the world actually cares about black women. if black men have it hard black women have it twice as worse. and i have no doubt about it. black women are the bravest humans on this planet.

my mom knocked on the door and my head sprung up to watch her walk inside of my room. i had the strongest urge to roll my eyes but ya know that's bitch shit and ion feel like getting smacked upside my head. it's really irritating when your parent knocks on the door, doesn't wait for an answer and just walks in. what was the point of knocking at all? i could've been playing with my dick and she would've seen all that shit. but, hey, this isn't my house that i pay no bills for to set rules on who enters my room. but this turns into my house when this shit gets dirty though. she's so damn wishy washy. i hate that shit man.

"malachai go to the store and get me some junk." my mom handed me the twenty dollars while she told me all of the junk food items she wanted me to go get her from the corner store. as soon as she entered she left. i didn't bother to pause the episode playing as i slipped on a random pair of vans i owned and swiped the crispy bill up in my hand before leaving out of the apartment. i was happy to leave out of that fucking box. i feel so damn restricted in there. i hate living in that apartment mostly because it's small as shit in this shit ass neighborhood. my mom and i don't need to live in an expensive ass house with a mortgage that's not going to get paid off until two generations later. especially since i'm about to be out of here. but a nicer apartment in a nicer neighborhood would be pretty nice. however; it is just my mom paying for things around here so i'm not bitter about our living situation. she's doing her best and for that i'm exceptionally grateful.

as i walked down the gum stained sidewalk i nodded my head at the soldiers posted up in front of the apartment steps selling their quota for the day. i quickly changed the side of the street i was walking on when the neighborhood hoes started to come my way. not only are they the girls that have done laps around the block, they are the best pick pockets i've ever seen. i'm pretty sure they could steal the shirt off of my back without me feeling a thing. grade a thieves dressed in swap meet gucci.

i made it to the cornerstone corner store and walked up and down the fluorescent illuminated aisles.

jujubes ... jujubes ... jujubes!

i located one item off of the list of many my mom sent me to retrieve. i was picking up a bag of hot munchies when i noticed an old friend posted up by the drinks. i slowly strolled up to him while he aimlessly toyed with the black fabric he had clutched in his hand.

"tommy gun?" the familiar face shot up as i called him by the name he was known around the neighborhood for having. his real name was thomas mccarthy, but that wasn't gangster enough for him to join a gang. so someone gave him the nickname tommy gun so he would sound intimidating and shit. and to be real, when he was first growing up he was the softest nigga i ever knew. it wasn't until another gang killed his mother right in front of him did he live up to his nickname. last i heard he got shipped off to a prison in arizona or some shit. i haven't seen him in three years.

"wassup, chai?" he responded back, but it seemed as though his mind was somewhere else. like he was thinking really hard about something. and suddenly i got a really bad feeling.

"shit, the same old." i stuttered out. out of nowhere i felt nervous and uncomfortable. "tryna get done with this school shit so i can get the hell up out of here."

"that's good, yo. aye, make sure you do that shit, aight? ion wanna see yo ass still up in this neighborhood or on a corner somewhere. do something good witcha life, take care of yo moms." tommy quickly rattled off to me. i hesitantly nodded my head along to his requests while the feeling continued to build up in my chest to the point i felt that i would implode. "and, chai?"

"yeah?" i gulped.

"duck behind those boxes of chips." tommy's hand went inside of his bomber jacket and came out with a loaded uzi; the black fabric once twisted in his fingers masked his face so only his eyes and lips were visible. my eyes popped out of socket and i wasted no time doing what he said. he marched up to the front with the gun aimed directly between the store owner's eyes. the man filled with fright. other people in the store gasped and scrambled to run out of the door before tommy spun around and aimed the gun at the group of people, freezing them in place.

"everybody in this bitch i wanna see ya mothafuckin hands up right na! and you," he motioned back to the store owner. "i want the mothafuckin money in that register out right now! don't try no funny shit either nigga! i done killed niggas for steppin' on my shoe, you ain't shit for me to lose sleep over." the man frantically nodded his head while opening up the register and pulling out all of the money he had in there. i felt bad for the man.

the onlookers stayed in a panicked silence as tommy pointed his gun closer to the man's head and demanded that he empty out his pockets and socks for any hidden money. i couldn't believe that this was what tommy had stooped down to. and he was fresh out of jail too, did he want to go back?

tommy collected all of the money and forced the man to shove it in a paper bag. he did a once over of the store, swinging his gun along with him making others gasp and duck from the barrel of the gun. his lips turned up into a devious smirk knowing the vast amount of power he had with the gun in his hand. tommy zipped out of the door of the store and the deafening sound of sirens surrounded the perimeter.

someone had called the police.

i couldn't see anything but i could hear the ammunition exiting the uzi and my head dropped shamefully while a low fuck ricocheted off of the corner i was pressed up against. he was done for. soon after the firing of pistols rang through the air and pierced through the glass door, shattering it and sending glass everywhere. after about fifty shots rang out the shooting ceased. i finally stood up, leaving my mother's items on the ground and made my way to the front door. i climbed through the gaping hole and stepped out onto the parking lot. about five cruisers were stationed at random angles in front of the store. to my left two officers were attending to a officer on the ground protruding blood. when i looked to my right there was tommy. he was about three yards away from the door and face down on the concrete while his dark blood coated the ground beneath him. he was dead, that's for sure.

the pigs were speaking into their radios and pulling people from the store out to question. my eyes stayed locked on tommy's body. what he did was stupid, but we had yet another fallen brother. a pig came to question me next but i refused to speak. since they had five other witnesses and i continued to stay mute they decided to leave me alone. however; since i didn't have my id with me they made me call my mom to come pick me up. when she ran over to the now taped off scene she took one look at tommy's body and burst into tears. i held her limp body in my arms as she became weak in the knees and headed to the ground. she cried out into the dark night as the scene gained more and more onlookers. it wasn't the fact that she knew tommy that made her breakdown like she did, it was the fact that another black male was killed by the pigs. and the haunting thought in the back of her mind that tommy could've been me. the fear she lives with every moment of her life. it was sad.

but by living in this era, the death of another black male was something the government had successfully desensitized me to.

..

r.i.p. rekia boyd

BLACKLIVESMATTER