𝗟𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟮 𝗠𝗬 𝗨𝗡𝗕𝗢𝗥𝗡 ━━━━━ 𝘁𝘂𝗽𝗮𝗰 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗸𝘂𝗿.

004.

' SAT, OCTOBER 22ND, 1994. '
sanai and darnell's residence  ⸻
inglewood, california !

     I STEP INTO OUR APARTMENT , expecting to be met with Darnell and his usual anger but instead all I'm met with is silence. I furrow my brows confused, but instead all I'm worried and stressed about is getting myself showered. Hurriedly, I kick off my shoes and place them neatly by the wall, stepping out of the hallway to place my bag onto the grey marble counter.

I go about my routine wanting to take a shower, as the warm water flows over me and my sore muscles it's a small escape from the outside world and the questions Darnell is about to rush me with. Thoughts of Tupac replay in my mind, the excitement of the club, the thrill of being in his presence, it's all still so fresh.

After the shower, I step out, wrapping myself in a towel and letting out a sigh. The conversation with Darnell isn't over and hasn't even started, I'm sure of that.

I have no other choice but to walk into our bedroom to get myself something to wear, and it's then there all I see is him seated on our bed, his head rested within his hands as I awkwardly walk into the room in nothing but a towel. He glares at me and I blink back at him, already expected his burst of questions and it's then I realize the heat of the situation, especially with the hickeys on my neck.

"Darnell," I start, "I know we need to talk."

He doesn't respond immediately, his expression a mix of frustration and anger. "Yeah, we do need to talk," he finally replies, his voice edged with irritation.

I take a deep breath, attempting to prepare myself for the storm that's about to come. I sit on the edge of the bed, maintaining a little distance between us as I hurry to let down my hair to hide the bruises on my neck. Look, today at the club—"

"I don't want to fucking hear about that," he interrupts, his voice sharp.

"But you have to," I retort, my patience wearing thin. "You can't just shut down and pretend like nothing's happening, I know you already think I'm up to something." He clenches his fists, his jaw tightening. "What the fuck do you want me to say, huh? I don't like the fact that you strip for other men, and now I'm stressed worrying where the fuck you've been all night."

I eat back my words.

"Darnell—"

He gets up from the bed, his fists clenched. "I didn't know where your ass was, I was worried." He shouts at me, I flinch at his sudden piercing tone. "I was ready to kill a nigga, I really thought you got raped or some shit."

"We been through this before," I argue, my frustration boiling over. "I told you I'd call you if I was in danger." His hand punches against the wall hard, making me jump. "I can't stand not knowing if you're safe. I can't stand you doing this.

"I need to work," I retort, tears welling up in my eyes. "I need to pay bills and you know that, you think I like it when you're out in the streets, that shit could get you killed too.

Darnell's anger doesn't seem to fade; instead, it intensifies. He strides over to me, his face contorted with frustration and worry. "I don't give a fuck about the streets, Sanai. I give a damn about you. I need to know you're safe. I can deal with that shit."

I swallow hard, feeling the weight of his concern. "I can't keep arguing with you over this." I say, my voice shaky. "You're not the only one who worries."

"I don't know where the fuck you were last night, how the fuck am I supposed to know you weren't fucking some other nigga whilst I was in our bed stressing-"