On The Rise

Chapter 1: Same Old Hood

       My Uncle Will never did like coming to the suburbs. He always said there was no place like the hood, because the hood was always home. People would always speak to you and were only steps away to lend a hand. I don't know what kind of hood he was raised in, but the one my father and mother was raised in was ruthless. In Southern District it was straight raw and un-cut. Crackheads and dealers on every corner, girls looking for a quick way out walking on every street, and police on the block every week. Even now as i left my two-story brick home that i'd lived in my entire 18 years of life, I knew that Southern District was full of trouble. Yet knowing all this i would never cry about it.

        My last name was Miller, and my family motto was Millers don't cry. I hadn't cried the day my Uncle told me my parents were murdered in a car incident. I hadn't cried at the funeral where plenty of niggas and bitches offered their condolences.I wasn't going to cry now as we drove away from safety and into a place my father had taught me about yet wanted me to stay clear of. Tears in my family were a sign of weakness, and we couldn't let the enemy catch us weak.

        Anyone in my family, if I had much family, were born and raised killers. We were like cats and snakes, hard to find a trace of and many lives to fall back on. My parents lives ended when they were only 49 and 45. I'd be lucky to see that age seeing as im going into the family buisness. It wasn't about the money though, not at all, my parents had left enough money for me  to want for nothing. It was the principle. There would be no crevice, no crack, and no shadow where the person who killed my parents could hide.

        Today i moved back to the hood to keep my ears to the street. The home i was raised in would be my cover because no one but close friends and family knew i had moved. And only my Uncle knew where to. He pulled up on the curb next to the apartment buliding i'd be staying in. I stepped onto the street in my Jordan Retro 6's. The hood wouldn't even know who I was if I graced them with my presence, but they'd learn i came with rage and turmoil. A few guys on the stairway whistled at me in my half-cut white hello-kitty sweatshirt, ripped jeans,and jordans.  

      They grew quiet at the sight of my Uncle, known as Danger to the streets, walking close behind me and grimacing at every one of them. A smile crept across my face, knowing all too well the look of fear on their faces. It was so familiar. I switched my Marc Jacobs over to my other arm and moved my long thick twisted  braids off my shoulder. I wasn't mixed, and i didn't have to be to have long pretty hair. I was black through and through, but my hair was always taken care of. A perm would never touch it and only natural products were used in it.

        "You better not talk to none of these street niggas, you get in and you get out after finding out what you need and handling your business Jamie," my uncle said sternly. I stepped into the elevator that smelled of piss and weed. "Understood. We're going to Butcher's after this right," my tone neutral. My father had passed away and i didn't need another. He nodded. My Uncle never was a friendly guy, as a matter of fact all of the people he knew he might have said one sentence too. Yet many people knew him, and if you were a Miller people either wanted to be cool with you or kill you. 

         When I unlocked my apartment i went to check every room before going to flop on my bed. All of my walls, except my bedroom, were painted a crisp spice brown. My living room was decked in reds, cream, orange, and leather. My kitchen had granite cream counter tops, stainless steal, and rich wood. And not only did my apartment have magazine like quality, but it had soundproof walls, a small safe room, and a gun in each room. My bedroom though was a mellow yellow, with white and gold everything else. Even my bathroom was filled with the shining white and gold trim. 

        Those were my parents two favorite colors. My bedroom was decorated just like theirs. With the Peruvian carpet, silk sheets, painted white wood with gold trim and the heavy full length queen trimmed mirror my mother had. I smiled at myself in the mirror because my face showed a combination of them both. From my almond shaped auburn brown eyes, to my full lips, dimples, and cinnamon brown skin. I missed them and for damn sure would avenge them. These streets would yet again know the wrath of the Millers. 

       So here's chapter one it has a lot of details and in the next chapter ill be introducing all of the main characters. Let me know what you think by commenting or voting. Thanks. By the way picture of Jamie Miller on the side :)