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Dayvon sat slouched on the worn-out couch in the trap house, the haze of weed smoke hanging thick in the air. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the flickering TV in the corner, playing a show he wasn't even paying attention to. His mind was somewhere else entirely—thinking about Sanaa.
It had been four months since she left with Demi, and every day felt like a drag. He took another long drag from the blunt, feeling the familiar burn in his lungs. It didn't help much anymore, just dulled the edges of his thoughts.
Durk walked in, shaking his head at the sight of his friend. "Damn, Von, you still here? Man, you gotta snap outta this."
Dayvon barely glanced up. "Ain't nothin' to snap outta, bruh. She gone. Ain't comin' back."
Durk sat down across from him, concern etched on his face. "You can't be doin' this to yaself. What if she do come back? You gon' be too messed up to even see it."
Dayvon scoffed, leaning his head back. "You don't get it, Durk. It's like she vanished, man. Ain't no word, no nothin'."
Durk sighed, rubbing his temples. "Look, I get it. You miss her, miss lil' Demi too. But you drownin' in this shit ain't gon' bring her back no quicker."
Dayvon's eyes flickered with anger. "What you want me to do, huh? Act like everything cool? I can't just move on like that."
Durk stood up, pacing the room. "You actin' like a fool. You ain't the only one hurtin'. We all miss her. But sittin' here, smokin' all day, that ain't gon' change nothin'."
Dayvon shook his head, the haze of depression thick around him. "I ain't got no answers, man. She said she be back, but it's been four months. Four damn months, Durk. What if somethin' happened to her?"
Durk paused, his expression softening. "We ain't know what's goin' on, but we gotta trust she doin' what's best. She strong, Von. She ain't gon' leave you hangin'."
Dayvon stared at the ceiling, his heart heavy. "I jus'... I can't stop thinkin' 'bout her. Every day, every night. It's like a part of me missin'."
Durk nodded, sitting back down. "I know, bro. But you gotta keep it together. For when she do come back. She gon' need you strong, not like this."
Dayvon closed his eyes, trying to hold back the emotions. "I jus' want her back, man. Want my family back."
Durk reached out, giving him a firm pat on the shoulder. "She comin' back, Von. And when she do, we gon' be ready. But you gotta pull it together. For her. For Demi."
Dayvon took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his friend's words. He knew Durk was right, but it didn't make the pain any less. He just hoped that wherever Sanaa was, she was safe and thinking about him too.
Durk watched Dayvon pace around the trap house for what felt like the hundredth time that day. His worry lines were deepening, and he was starting to lose patience. "Von, you gotta stop stressin', man. Sanaa and Demi will be fine. You need somethin' to take your mind off it."
Dayvon stopped pacing and looked at Durk. "Like what? Ain't nothin' gonna distract me from my family."
Durk leaned back in his chair, a smirk forming on his lips. "Why don't you try rappin'? You always had a way with words, man. Plus, you got that real-life experience to back it up."
Dayvon's eyes widened. "Rappin'? Man, I ain't never thought 'bout that."
Durk nodded. "Trust me. It'll help you channel all that energy into somethin' productive. You got a story to tell, Von. People need to hear it."
Dayvon took Durk's advice to heart. He started writing down his thoughts, turning his pain and experiences into lyrics. It was like therapy for him, a way to express what he was going through. He spent hours in the studio, perfecting his craft.
His first few tracks gained traction quickly. The raw emotion in his voice and the authenticity of his lyrics resonated with listeners. Before long, he adopted the stage name "King Von," inspired by the moniker he'd been given in the streets.
His rise in the rap scene was meteoric. Songs like "Crazy Story" and "Took Her to the O" became anthems, reflecting his life and struggles.
1 Month Later
One day, while chilling in the studio with Durk, Dayvon couldn't help but reflect on how far he'd come. "Yo, Durk, you was right 'bout this rappin' thing. It's like therapy, man. And the people... they feelin' it."
Durk grinned, lighting a blunt. "I told you, bro. You got talent. Just keep doin' you, and everything else will fall into place."
Dayvon took a deep drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling. "I ain't never thought I'd be here. From the streets to the studio... it's wild."
Durk nodded. "Just remember, keep it real. That's what they love 'bout you. You ain't fakin' it."
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