Please keep all ya' chains tucked inside your shirts at all times. Dress well, but not too well or else you're more likely to be robbed. Keep your eyes to yourself and mind your business, even when the situation tells you not to. If you see somethin...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
One of the many burdens that came with misguidance was the inevitable fate of poor decisions. Easton knew the only thing to look forward to in his life was death or prison. There was no happy ending for someone who played in the streets as much as he did. The only thing that unknown was how long it was going to take for him to meet his fate.
Easton walked into the institution with his head held taught amongst the guards. He stared down the dimly lit hallway as they made their way to the visiting center. Every six months on the fifth, he went to go see his mother who was incarcerated in the Philadelphia penitentiary. His mother, Shavon Williams, was currently serving a 40 year sentence for a crime she didn't commit.
"Friendly reminder, no touching of any kind..."
The guard led him into the room that was crowded by other visitors and their isolated loved ones. Easton gulped as he looked around for his mother who was sitting in the corner, anticipating his arrival. As many times as he saw his mother, he was always nervous. He didn't know what it was like behind the exit. She lived amongst society's rejects and she didn't deserve to be. No one in there had anything to lose, making Shavon vulnerable to senseless attacks.
"Easton!"
She squealed as she jumped up in down in her seat. Her baby boy came closer and gave her a quick hug before the guards could say anything. Shavon had a hard time letting go as she inhaled her son's masculine scent. She was happy that he was alive and well. Easton was also happy to see that his mother looked healthy. Her skin was clear of any slashes, her hair was long and well kept and surprisingly, she was in good spirits.
"Baby, how are you?"
"I'm good, ma. How are you?" Easton succumbed to a lighter tone as he spoke delicately to the woman who gave him life.
"I'm doing good. I'm alive so I can't complain," Shavon graced.
"Them bitches still messing with you in there?" Easton asked since last time he recalled his mother had beef with a group of women who were notorious for starting trouble.
"No. I damn near poked one of they homegirls up. They know better. They took me for some punk ass bitch."
"Yeah and my momma ain't no punk."
"Hell no she ain't," Shavon grinned as she grabbed her son's hand behind the guards back, "and neither is her son. What you been up to baby?"
Easton shrugged as he thought to his aimless life and routine-less days. He woke up, smoked, ran the streets, hung out with his friends, fucked women and then smoked again until he fell asleep. After high school, Easton let the wind blow him in different directions. Unfortunately, he wasn't going very far and that fact became more obvious every day.
"KC got killed the other day."
Shavon's face dropped, "you're lying. Ms. L's son?"
