Shy and timid, Onika lives in a dilapidated Detroit neighborhood with her abusive uncle. She is hopelessly in love with Marshall Mathers, a troubled young man that lives next door to her in their rough hood.
Marshall is rude, agressive and uncouth...
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"Onika, where you at, gyal?" My uncle's voice can clearly be heard from downstairs as I slightly panic and hyperventilate a little bit, Marshall regarding me with an amused expression on his face.
"Baby, what's wrong?" He smirks, and I widen my eyes at him, trying to ignore the whole getting fuzzy thing over him randomly calling me baby again. I swear the boy uses that word way too freely sometimes.
And he is speaking way to loudly right now too.
"What's wrong is that my uncle absolutely cannot catch you in here with me, Marshall. Because he would literally kill me!" I whisper yell at him with a scared expression on my face.
"And why is that?" The damn white boy looks at me all innocent, and I roll my eyes.
"Um... because he can't stand you, Marshall, he calls you The White Devil!!" I continue to whisper harshly to him.
"Why the fuck would he call me that, yo?" Marshall then asks me, scratching the back of his blonde head.
"Onika!!" My uncle's voice from downstairs again.
"Coming right down, Uncle Rashaad, hold on!! Give me a second!!" I yell back, hoping to God that the strained tone of my voice doesn't betray my turmoil right now.
I then turn to Marshall and roll my eyes yet again as he continues to regard me with this like amused look in his eyes, which is honestly driving me crazy right now. Whatever nervousness he's had around me is now gone completely. Because apparently seeing me in an uncomfortable position had in turn made him much more confident in himself.
"Well, I don't know, nigga. Maybe because for one thing," I start counting dramatically on my fingers, "You are a known troublemaker, you hang out with the local drug dealer, um... what else, also the fact that you are..."
I stumble over my words then.
"What, white?" Marshall finishes my sentence for me, smirking. "I don't know, baby, but ya uncle sounds like a racist," he says, not seeming the least bit offended by it though.
I roll my eyes for like the third time in a row and sigh.
"He might be a little bit," I admit. "But don't feel bad, cause he doesn't like black people neither, I mean, he used to hate on my daddy as well," I blurt out, and Marshall appears to be confused again.
"But wait, ain't ya uncle black himself?"
"He's a West Indian, Marshall."
"A what?"
"Look, nevermind!!"
I wave my hands rapidly, pacing the room.
"Buttom line is, he wants me nowhere near you, he been told me to stay the hell away from you!!"
