That unpredictable thug love

***Karmela Mckeney Jones aka MJ

(16 years old)

He backed me into the corner between my door and the wall. He slapped me so hard, I hit my forehead on the hinges of the door as I fell down to the floor.

    I held my tears in as I held my head, blood dripping down my hands. Nausea was taking over me. 

"WHAT THE FUCK DID I TELL YOU KARMELA!? " His breath stunk of alcohol as his words slurred.

"I- " He cut me off with three punches to the face, I soon let my tears out.

"BITCH DID I SAY YOU COULD SPEAK?! " He yelled in my face. Then out of nowhere, he began to laugh hysterically.

"You a hoe just like yo fuckin Mama was, She opened her legs for any nigga with change you're just like her-"

"She wasn't a hoe, she was happily married to my dad! How could you talk about your own sister like-"

He punched and kicked me in the face. I even knew that this time, putting makeup on it wasn't gonna help at all.

"DON'T YOU EVER DISRESPECT ME BITCH! YOU LIVE IN MY HOUSE! YOU EAT MY FOOD! DON'T THINK I WON'T PUT YOU AND YO LITTLE BRATTY ASS SISTER OUT! SLEEP ON THAT BITCH! " He kicked me in the stomach one last and walked out,  leaving me in darkness, pain and blood. I felt like I was about to throw up.

I knew just what to do to make me feel better but it hurt to move. I decided to crawl to my dresser next to my bed. I opened the drawer and pulled my razor blade out. I took my thick, wide bracelets off of my wrists, revealing the 7 crisscrossed slits already there. I laid in the floor and put 2 slits on both of my wrists. I just laid there letting the blood run down my wrists, staining the already, old, raggedy, smelly ass carpet.

We lived in the projects the lowest of the lowest. I hated it here. Me getting abused became a daily routine, it was nothing new. I used to pray and pray that God would some how get me and My 8 year old sister Essynce aka Essy out of this hell hole...We've been here since my father died, which was about 4 years ago so what does that tell you?  To Be Honest, at this point, I don't  believe that there is even  a God up there anymore. The only way out of here is if I get that basketball scholarship, Essy's coming with me.

   My mother had died giving birth to Essy, so all that was left was my father to look after us. It didn't take long for him to pass away too so we were forced to live with my abusive uncle and crack head auntie.

    My older brother by 7 years,  Chance, ran away when I was only 8 years old, Essy had just been born after he left so he doesn't know about her.

    It tore me to pieces, my big brother was everything to me but he left me. It didn't bother me as much as it did when our father died of kidney cancer .That was the time when me and Essy needed Chance the most, but he wasn't there.  And til this day, I still don't know where he is and don't give a fuck. Fuck him!

    I started to cry again so I slit my wrist again. The pain from the cut always to my mind off the other pain.

     I could feel my eyes getting heavy as I watched the blood drip with satisfaction. I tried keeping my eyes wide to stay awake but sleep took over the best of me. In seconds, I was unconscious.

***Wayne aka Smokey (One of MJ's best friends)

"Wassup cuz!? " I dapped my cousin Preston  aka Major. He had just moved down here (New Orleans) from Harlem.

"Look at chu! Din grew a few inches Kevin Hart!" He laughed at his own joke.

"Lick my dick nigga!" I said.