Made In Compton

ProLogue

I impatiently waited at the bus stop as I shifted my weight off one leg onto the other, clutching my bag onto my side and holding onto my two year old son's hand. Two other females, four men, and two young teens stood at the stop also. No one made eye contact. No one spoke. It was always like this in Compton.

It was 12:40 at night and I was waiting on the last bus of the day to come, thankful that the busses around here didn't stop running till 1am and back up at 5am. A few more minutes went by without the bus coming and a black van was slowly approaching us. In Compton, a black van with tinted windows and a 97 percent chance of black niggas in that van, was never a good sign. Ever. Everyone was at war in these streets and getting caught in someone else's beef, was never a good outcome. Except this time, I knew who's war it was. Without thinking I grabbed my son in one arm and ran as fast as my legs could carry me, dropping vast majority of my unimportant belongings but I didn't really give a fuck.

I could hear the others running as the bullets started to fly, but at the moment I still didn't give a fuck about nobody's safety but my son. Fuck my safety right now, to be honest. I could hear bodies dropping, tires screeching, calls for help, and last breaths being took but I ignored them all. If I turned around, that's my life or more than likely my son's life. After what seemed like an eternity of running, my legs gave out and I finally stopped running and got to an alley surrounded by trees, junkies, drunks, and a pissy smell lurking in the cool night air.

The only thought that raced through my mind faster than my heart pounded was....... He's out to get me.

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Just Because one is simply from the suburbs, ghetto, or hood, doesn't mean one doesn't have the mentality and qualification to make it out. -Miss.King👑