Tale of a Thug

this is my first urban story so please give me a break :)(:

enjoy!

--------------------

Chapter 1:

If you lived in the hood then you needed to know everything like it was the back of your hand. Most niggas use that same hand to put their girls in place. But that shit aint right. if my man ever landed a hand on me like that then id be the last time he ever touched me in anyway. anyways you gonna be the streets to run them. know every nigga there. know every street name. everyones business

& whats in the shadows. i aint run them but the drug lord, Preston do. He runs a barber shop a block or two from my street and sometimes when i go to the corner store i see him chilling there with his homeboys smoking a bowl.

Last time i went by there, he looked me up and down and trying holla. but i cant have no man right now. i caught my last man with some wack ass girl two weeks before our one year aniversity. first i beat the bitchs flat ass and then i slap a nigga and slammed the door leaving them. thats another thing about the hood, you gotta know how to fight and take a beating. this girl must not be from around here cause the first time i hit her, she was crying like the bitch she is and i aint even hit her that hard. but trust me every time i hit her it got a little stronger each time. then this nigga pulled me off her and told me to cut the shit. then he raised his hand like he was gon hit me. ME! the girl that stuck through everything with him.

But i guess thats how it is. Sometimes the things you love the most hurt you the most. And i sure as hell loved that son of a bastard. another person i loved was my ma. before she died. she was walking down the street was a car pulled up and shot some niggas she was walking near. and she happened to be just a little to close. i hate how she left us. i hate how she left me with my dad. how could she?! but i guess if she knew what he'd do she wouldnt have but i cant help to think that its her fault she died and its her fault that she left me with my dad. hes one sick son of a bitch. heres some proof when i was making dinner a few days ago.

i was stirring the pasta as the heavy steps walked up the apartment stairs and opened the door to soon be slammed shut. "Alessandra!!!!!" he called for me. "in here." i called back frowning slightly not knowing which dad he was gonna be tonight: the one who "loved" his daughter or the one who loved his daughter. Nigga was a different nigga each day. one day hes the man who acts like he did when mom was still around and the next hes some asshole looking for a good fuck and the only one that was closest enough looking and acting to his wife was: me.

He walked in with a glaze over his eye which was the answer to my question. "In here? in here. hmm you little shank! theres 6 different fucking rooms in this house and when i ask you which one youre in i expect an exact answer." he said loudly then pushed me making me hit into the wall. he walked over and hit me again. "say something when youre talked to dumb shit!" he kept it going.

"o-" i started before he punched me in the jaw. i couldnt even get half the word out before he was ripping off my pants.

"you fucking shit! im teaching you a lesson! and then MAYBE youll be grateful for what you have!" he screamed in my face as he unzipped his pants and stuck his full self in. it hurt everytime because i was never wet and he didnt spit or anything.

He pushed into me harder each time and i closed my eyes holding back tears. he grabbed my chin forcing me to look imto his eyes. "you like that dont you, you little slut."

**

when he was done i slid down the wall and fell asleep right there crying.

when i woke up that morning i realized it was saturday which meant no school. most kids would be sleeping in and enjoying the day. well not this kid. i had things to do and they dont do themselves. i stood up and started cooking breakfast. scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage and pancakes. he usually likes his food made before he gets up and me out the house.