Hopes of tomorrow

Cocaine, and car jacking

My name in Christine. 

I'm 17, I live in the shitty, dangerous part of the hood in the Bronx. Everyday I walk out my door ready for a fight, I carry the habit of keeping a  knife in my pocket. I throw my no name brand runners on getting ready for the shït storm of today, I had to get food, and toiletries, and drug money for my mom.

I look up to see my mom tying a rubber band around her arm ready to shoot up some more of what ever she was taking this week, i can feel my nose shrivel in disgust looking a her in her condition. She was dirty, probably hasn't showered in weeks, her face was sunken in, her blonde hair thin and limp and her brown eyes were lifeless. I was similar looking but more well kept, my blonde hair less greasy and brittle, my eyes the same dull lifeless shine as mom but coloured blue just like my fathers, my face is skinny from lack of food. Making my way over to the fridge i open it. nothing but a half eaten rotten tomato, salad dressings for the lettuce we don't have and fruit flies. GREAT!  I walk slowly back into the dirty living room/ bedroom to notify my mother that I'm leaving. she's passed out on the couch.

I don't know why I even bother trying sometimes.

Finding my worn down runners and my purple jacket i get ready for the day ahead of me making a mental note of all the things i have to do today. Its Monday so i should be at school in ten minutes but i won't make it in time anyways so i decide to just run the errands today instead and play hooky. I make my way down the dark ally way keeping my head down and hood up, careful to not draw too much attention to myself. 

The ground is littered with bottles, and trash bags, and there is a bunch of scuffling noises coming from my right side, turning cautiously i look to my right, but see nothing. just keep walking Christine, it's all fine  i think to myself. I see a big white ball of fluff come shooting out from behind a rash bag heading straight towards me making me scream. It was a little fat white cat , with a matted coat and huge black eyes, staring up at me, rubbing itself on my leg, purring for affection. I lean down to pet the cat and then continue making my way to my buddy RJ's chop shop looking for some work.

Rj and I met in 1st grade when everything was just starting to go to shit, he watched my grow up with out my father, and struggle to keep my mother steady and alive. He saved me. He gave me all the money he could on the side of his business, and kept an eye on my mom when i needed to go to school. He was only a year older but he was tall and mature, and you'd most likely mistake him for a 20 year old, he was also like my brother. He left home at 16 and started his own illegal car jacking business, it wasn't hard to find people, and He's intimidating enough to keep people loyal out of fear for him not that he would need that because his charisma alone is enough. RJ is 6'3 and built like a brick wall, nobody fucks with RJ. He is the definition of tall dark and handsome from his cocoa shaded skin, to short black hair, and piercing black eyes. 

Walking into his shop now i see him, he's talking to one of his workers. there were cars everywhere, some in good conditions, some being ripped apart to scrap metal, car frames getting stacked on top of each other. 

"i'll give you $150 for this car" RJ says.

"what?! no way! its a honda civic i should get at least $500 for it man" the employee argues shaking his head angrily, he is two heads shorter than RJ with a comparably smaller build, theres no way he was going to get 500 for that car and we all knew it.

" take the 150 I'm offering, or get the fuck out of my shop and don't come back or ill make a sling shot out of your intestines " he says lowly.

I watched a shiver go through the employee, as he nodded and thanked RJ for the money, then watched him as he scurried away like the rat he is.