If I Had (Eminem Fanfic)

Chapter 6- Underground Shit, Underground Feud

Chapter 6

Pristine’s POV

“Double-you-fucked up.” I said one afternoon as I made my way over to our favorite chillin’ spot- the empty, abandoned parking lot of an old rundown building. MC J-den and Marky Mark- as I liked to call Mark- were both present, like they said they would be and had called me out to take my mind off things as currently, in their words, I’d been too bitchy lately. And I told them to try and be in my position and get near- raped and robbed on the same fuckin’ day.

Mark glared at me for my alteration of his rap name, from where he sat on top of J-den’s Delta. Jayden sniggered, and I noticed he was smoking, back pressed against the closed passenger door.

“Ok, I’m gonna admit I fucked up that night,” Mark said, annoyed. “But frankly, a little bit of crack can do that much to you.”

J-den smirked. I stepped closer to the car and looked up at my other best friend, arching an eyebrow. “Little crack? That all you had? Bitch, don’t fuckin’ lie on our faces. If we raided yo’ house we gon’ find crack all over the frickin place, even hidden in your momma’s cups. Yo’ mom still hangs her stuff in the kitchen don’t she?”

That made Jayden laugh out loud and drop the cigarette. Mark fumed and refused to look at me, angry at me for the insult. But if you asked me, I was not trying to be funny or dissing, it was one of those times when temper got the best of you and you said shit about people on their faces because you cared for them.

“Mark,” I prompted. He didn’t look down.

“Mark, listen, dawg.” I gushed. No reaction whatsoever.

“Okay, I’m sorry, man. Shouldn’t have brought up your momma’s melons into this.” I held both my hands up while Jayden laughed out louder, holding his sides.

I glared at him to stop. “Sorry, man. I refuse to speak on the subject of you fucking yourself up with drugs, and ignore the fact that you’re becomin’ a crackhead, because apparently I’m a good friend.”

Finally he looked down. His face betrayed the fact he was feeling guilty now.

“Ok, what do you want me to do?” He asked, exasperated.

“Stop.” I said simply.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

When he didn’t respond for a while, I flipped. “ARE YOU TELLIN’ ME-“

“NO!” He intervened, his hand outstretched in a ‘stop’ motion. “I ain’t a fuckin crackhead, man! Just like doin this shit every once in a while, don’t understand why you gotta problem with this. It’s my fuckin’ life. I am in fuckin’ control, I tell you.”

At this, I quietly exchanged glances with Jayden who seemed as confused and suspicious as me.

I have met Mark and Jayden both in the ‘91. Four years later, I officially got done with her, my mother and anything related to my supposed “home”. Meeting them, chillin’ with them, going crazy three sixty- all helped me begin anew. A fresh start was what I really needed and I felt I was back in square one. We’ve all gelled so well together that if I stopped and tried to think of the people I once used to hang out with before I met these two, those who I called friends, I’d come up blank. Jayden was one of those dark, quiet dudes who seemed like they knew their business and didn’t mingle with just anybody but as if contradicting his cold fuck-off attitude, kept a Chaldean white boy as a close friend. Mark- a pure example of white kid exposed to life in the projects and big time Hip Hop. He was more into the Beastie Boys style hip hop though. But that was still dope hip hop, to me. We’ve been pretty tight over these eight years while growing up. I felt like I’d done gained their acceptance when I spilled rhymes which left their mouth hangin’ back when I was fourteen. From then on, everything flowed naturally on their own accord.