Just Average

the beginning

Nevaeh Peterson
Fuck me. Fuck me. FUCK.
I charged down the street past the corner store, weaving in and out of peoples way my heart was beating wildly out of my chest and the adrenaline pumped through my vains. Growing up in philly I learned the quickest way to get away from a drug bust...to run. My friend Kalani was running beside me before we decided it was best to split ways, the cops had been investigating us for months trying to decrease the crime rate revolving around drugs, dealers, and users. We were all well aware of the consequences, we knew what could happen but that didn't stop us. We were family and family never gets left behind.

It was pitch black outside due to day light savings, and beads of sweat were dripping down my forehead. A gust of wind blew through the alley and it felt amazing against my tired body. I looked around listening intensely, but the only thing to be heard was the sound of my heavy breathing and the hookers voices that hung on the corner. I realized Kalani hadn't come to our meet up spot. I felt the pricks run across my skin as I thought about where she could possibly be, did the police catch her? Was she kidnapped? Shot? Bleeding out in the middle of a desert while coyotes eat her alive? Too far Nevaeh , stop acting stupid and get your shit together. She probably just went back to the apartment, she'll be back?

Time moved really slow and endless thoughts circled through my mind, after about 25 minutes of waiting and receiving no call or text I realized the cops had gotten her. My stomach twisted, Kalani was one of our best girls if she was caught we would all go down, not to mention she was the closest thing I had to family right now.

I creeped out of my hiding place poking my head around the corner, their wasn't a cop car in sight. Stepping out into the open I suddenly felt the urge to run, I got this overwhelming feeling all throughout my body that I was being watched. Slowly but surely I began to walk doing my best to not draw attetion to myself. I was turning around every few seconds to make sure I wasn't being followed and after about 10 minutes I made it to the tiny apartment that had been a major apart of me for years now. Relieved I began to make my way up the stairs, you did it Nevaeh you're safe. Now you just have to tell the others that you think she was arrested and figure out a way to get Kailani out.

Suddenly I hear the familiar shouting of an assertive voice, and the familiar flash of the bright blue and red lights. Gigantic hands wrapped around my neck and sent me hitting the pavement at full force. Police sirens pierced the air and I watched as the only place I could call home was invaded. My heart shattered into a million pieces when one by one I watched my family? My friends? And everyone I had ever known escorted into police cars. Search dogs filed in, neighbors walked out in a panic, shouting filled my ears. But all I could think was how the fuck was I gonna get out of this one. This was all my fault. I was yanked up feeling the familiar metal cuffs crush my wrist, and the agonizing pain in my rib cage. As I was placed in the back of the cop car Officer Jones caught my eye, and I watched as the most alarming smirk made its way across his face.

Backstory
I was 7 years old when I met my first drug dealer, he was a sketchy white man with a gold tooth that always wore a black trench coat almost as if he could be a pimp, I was an innocent kid with a pure mind living in the projects before he took it all away.

I was 8 when he taught me how to roll my first blunt, the paper felt crisp against my tiny hands, and the small buds left a faint odor across my fingers. He would teach me different techniques on how to protect myself in the projects, all while making sure the FEDS and foster care stayed off our tails. In exchange I was his full time drug runner. It started with little jobs like having me distribute blunts and xans for quick cash, but as time moved on he would have me inject quite the batch with needles, some overdosing after the first time. I'll never forget him dragging their cold limb bodies out of the tiny apartment he called home, or the slight blue tainted on their dry lips, the dark lifeless orbs that once held a possessive heroin addict, it was sad that their body craved the feeling of that natural high that they couldn't live without it, even if they wanted to stop I knew they couldn't.

I've always had vivid memories of people injecting themselves with needles, at one point I remember Kalani's grandma convulsing from a bad batch of heroin. I remember the fear I felt when she would foam around her mouth and violently rattle against the chair, would she be the next body we drug out of the tiny apartment? That was the question always looming through my head. Watching a random person overdose was a normal experience for me, but losing someone you felt anything for almost felt paticulary abnormal.

The tiny cramped apartment in the middle of the street was where I spent most of my nights. It is where all the kids came to get our Puerto Rican styled icees that were absolutely delicious. I can still taste the dish Arroz con habichuelas, Kalani's grandma would always make. And despite the roaches that fell from the ceiling at night or the constant fear of being invaded, philly was always an environment I felt most complete and understood. That was until it all began to change.