-Keep your friends close but your enemies much closer.
Jeramiah's P.O.V [Later On The Night, before the clock strikes 12]
What are four things that work so well in this world together? They all come together to make the world so cold. Especially in Brooklyn. Most of the time you don't make it out of here because you ain't smart enough for the game. If you mess around and be dumb, you get caught up in the most convincing, pleasure, and unloyal things ever
Also known as Sex. Money. Lies. And Drugs. That's what Brooklyn all about baby. When you grow up in the hood, it ain't nothing to see a nigga get gunned down, and watch as he takes his final breath, dying in his own cold blood.
Sex, deadly as ever. As crazy as it sounds it can get you killed. Girls with lil babies around here walking STD's. Mess with the wrong bitch, and that's yo head. All because of some pussy. Unloyal pussy at that.
Money, it's what all these lil niggas out here want. Putting they life on the line for a piece of change. But when people get enough money, they act like they can't stop and then it becomes greed. When you get greedy, you forget the bridge that you walked on to get where you are today.
Lies, the deadliest one of them all. When you lie. You have to keep your lies in a row, because if you don't. That's your head, because honesty is a form of loyalty to your supposed to be niggas.
Drugs, crack, LSD ,blunts , esctasy, pills and many many more. Drugs are an escape from reality. You turn to drugs because you don't wanna face the cruel reality of this cold harsh world. We all get addicted to something that takes away the pain. But drugs are only a temporary solution. Drugs don't do shit, but makes things worst. But these crackheads and pill heads can't stop buying shit To save they mama life. Don't even start me about borrowing drugs. That's a dangerous game.
It's simple B, if you don't know nothing about these dirty streets, then you ain't gone survive in Brooklyn.
I looked at the clock, 11:59, when the clock strikes 12 that's when Ill be able to do my job. I pulled my hoodie over my head and cocked my gun. It's go time. It's midnight bitch. I got out the car and walked over to the side of this big house. I then pulled myself through the window. No bitch or bitch made nigga would make it out of here alive tonight. That's not a threat, it's a promise.
I began to move throughout the house in complete silence, killing every moving thing in sight. Finally I arrived to the master bedroom, I unlocked the door with my crowbar. I walked in and saw, who I'm guessing was the people who were supposed to be hit, in the bed sleep. I Looked around and thought to myself, damn this Shit big, too bad its gonna be in ashes tommorow morning. I then smirked to myself and shot both of my latest victim's in the head.
I then went to go get the gasoline I always keep, and poured it all around the house. I threw off my clothes along and poured the last of the gasoline on my pile of clothes and threw the lit match on the floor. No evidence shall be left, none whatsoever, I thought to myself as I walked back out of the house. I then got in my car and drove off.
I called my client, and spoke " The job is done, have my money when I Get there," I said then hung up. That's the thing about this job, I ain't no dope boy, I don't slang, I'm my own boss. I'm a hitman.
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Serenity's P.O.V
I need to find shelter and I need to find it fast. I didn't wanna have to do this but, it's about to be midnight and after 12 AM in Brooklyn is not the shit you wanna fuck with.
Running to the nearest house, I pulled myself into the window. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Its like this when you have no where else to go. When you have no one to go to. I Looked around at my surroundings and took them in. This is comfortable.. but I know the owner, may possibly kill me. I just need this tonight.
I do my hygiene, and grab something from the kitchen. I then go into the bathroom and sit down on the floor and bring the knife across my wrist one time.
I grit my teeth, from the pain as I pour alcohol on it. It hurts so bad, but it feels so good. Over and over again, I repeat the process. I look down and seee the dark red blood from my battered wrist drip unto the white tile on the marble floor.
I start to see black dots, letting me know that I'm about to fall out of consciousness. Images of the past run through my head.
[ Very Emotional Scene Here.... If you would like just skip to the next chappie]
I was 12, when I began to cut. You have to stop, I told myself. But I never could find the courage. I wasn't strong enough. I was only 12, Nobody wanted me, Nobody loved me, I cried myself to sleep everything, slowly weeping and asking God, why me? My mom always told me to never question god. But I seriously wanted to know what did I do to deserve this? My chest began to heave up and down and I couldn't breathe. There was the black sea water I could never get out of my lungs once it found it's ways in. Tears clouded my vision, numbing me. Reminding me how, I didn't want to be here, because it simply wasn't worth it. My own parents abandoned me and that alone created this big pang of hurt in My chest. They just disappeared out of thin air and right now I needed them more than anything.
My spirit was gone and crushed, and I was only 12.
I looked down at my arm one more time, before the very familiar darkness, surrounded me.
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