Echoes of The Block

Dashawn

I remember that night like it was yesterday. Ron and I were out by my car in front of the corner store, selling bag. It was one of those humid nights where you could feel it's about to rain. The streetlights cast long shadows, and the air was thick with anticipation.

Ron kept glancing down at his phone, then looking around, acting more paranoid than me. "Bruh? Is you coo" I asked him, but he just muttered something about being careful. I shrugged it off and focused on the deal, trying to keep my mind on the task at hand.

Then, out of nowhere, the sky opened up and rain started pouring down heavily. "Shid that's my q." I said pulling my hood on over my head, just as I started to head back to my whip with Ron. The sound of gunfire cut through the night, sending a jolt of adrenaline through my body. I turned to see shadows moving towards us, guns flashing in the darkness. My heart pounded as I realized we were being ambushed.

Instinct kicked in, and I hit the ground, pulling Ron down with me. He was still clutching his phone. I could see the muzzle flashes in the distance. In the chaos, I lost sight of Ron. One second he was right next to me, and the next he was gone, vanished into the night like a ghost. I called out his name, but the only response I got was the relentless sound of gunfire and the pounding rain.

I clutched my piece, my mind racing. I knew I had to stay low and move fast, but the fear was almost paralyzing. Every sound seemed amplified, every shadow a potential threat. I turned the corner losing sight of my car, as I take cover in a dark alleyway behind the store. I was left there, heart pounding, drenched from the rain, and trying to figure out how to get out of this alive.

It felt like hours I was trying to come up with a plan, to make it back to my car. When I heard Heem voice in the distance, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, my vision was disoriented. "You gud?" His voice reached me through the rain. I felt a wave of relief and gratitude seeing him.
•
"Helloooo?" Ciara's voice brought me back to the present as she calls my name through the phone. "Shawn?"

"Yeaa? My fault." I said, trying to shake the uneasy feeling that loomed over me for a couple days now. "Imma call you back." I said, before hanging up, not in the mood to hear her protest. I scroll through my call log until my thumb lands on Ron name, I pressed the call button and waited impatiently for him to answer.

The thought gnawed at me, eating away at the trust we built over years. The phone rang once, twice, three times. Each ring giving me confirmation. Then, straight to voicemail. I tried again, same result. My mind raced with all the possibilities. My mind and heart been at war about this whole fuckd up situation literally since the night it happened, I been trying to look at it from different perspectives, think like I might just be trippin but the shit just don't add up. Why would you leave a nigga you claim to have undying love and loyalty for?

📲: I know yo goofy ass c me callin. Call me bck. You onnat weird shit

After sending that message, a text message pops up on my screen from Heem telling me to slide through so we can make some plays. So I got dressed and head out the house. The cold air swirling around me as I walk to my car watching my surroundings.

———————————

As I step into the spot, the scent of General Tso's chicken and fried rice fills the air, making my stomach growl. I balance the bag of Chinese takeout and my drink as I shut the door behind me with my foot.

I head straight to my room, ready to smoke and eat. Tossing my keys on the dresser, I plop down on the bed, reaching for the remote to fire up some Boondocks on the TV.

The familiar theme song fills the room as I dig into the takeout bag, grabbing an egg roll. I take a sip of my drink and then set everything down on the nightstand. Reaching into my drawer, I pull out my stash and rolling papers. As Huey and Riley start getting into it on screen, I expertly break down the weed and start rolling a blunt.

The ritual feels calming, my hands moving almost automatically. Soon, the blunt is perfectly rolled, and I sit back, lighter in hand, lighting the blunt. My phone vibrates in my hoodie. I pulled it out seeing a miss call from Ciara, I muttered under my breath placing the phone down on my bed, carrying on about my night.
•

I woke up with a jolt, my heart pounding in my chest. The room was dark, the only light coming from the flickering TV screen. Boondock was still playing, the murky glow casting eerie shadows on the walls. I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. But something didn't feel right. I strained my ears, every muscle in my body tense.

"The fuck?" I froze side eyeing the door of my bedroom.

I lay still, holding my breath. The sound came again, faint but unmistakable, like someone creeping around in the dark. My mind raced. Paranoia was a constant companion, whispering in my ear, making me see enemies everywhere.

I slid my hand under the pillow, fingers closing around the cold metal of my gun. It was a comforting weight. Slowly, I pushed myself up, careful not to make a sound. My heart hammered louder than any noise in the house. I forced myself to breathe, to focus.

The TV cast a ghostly light on the room, illuminating the worn furniture and the peeling wallpaper. I edged towards the door, gun raised. Every creak of the floorboard sent shivers down my spine.

I reached the door and paused, listening. The house was silent, but I knew better than to trust it. I flicked the safety off and stepped into the hallway, my back against the wall. The house seemed to close in around me, every corner a potential hiding spot for an enemy. I moved slowly, methodically, clearing each room as I went.

But it wasn't nobody to be found.

I ended up in the living room. I stood there, gun in hand, feeling like a fool. But the fear didn't go away. It never did. I sank into the couch, trying to calm my racing thoughts. Maybe this shit is all in my head, but shit then again maybe it ain't. I could never tell anymore.

Paranoia was my constant companion, a shadow I couldn't shake. And in my world, that could be the difference between life and death. I couldn't afford to take chances. Not now, not ever. So I sat there, gun in hand, eyes scanning the room, waiting for the next noise, the next threat.

In the life I lived, the only thing I could rely on was my own paranoia. It kept me alive.