BLACK IMAGINES.

B I Z Z Y

Warning // Hardcore drugs, bluntness.

Dear Future Daughter,

Don't fall in love with someone like your father.

He could be the sweetest person ever or he could be the monster that your mother always reminded you of. He would make you feel like the prettiest person in the world or he would make you feel so unloved and unwanted.

Tracy had met Bryon when she was just seventeen years old - six months away from graduating highschool. He had that smile that made your heart melt whenever that smile was directed towards you.

It was probably that smile that made her fall head over heels in love with him. She had met him on a cold August night - it was at a house party that her “friend” had invited her to.

Tracy walks into the party behind Julia who had on a dress that barely covered the bottom of her ass cheeks. She don't even remember how her and Julia had become friends - the two of them were complete opposites and had nothing in common with each other.

Julia was white. Tracy was black. Julia was six feet even while Tracy was barely even five foot three yet. Julia slept with different men while the only bed (other than her own) that Tracy's been in was her younger sisters.

Julia smiles and taps Tracy on the back. “Wanna go pick us up some beers, bae?” Julia asks with a warm smile and Tracy nods her head and walks towards the kitchen, brushing pass the many teens that were grinding their bodies together.

Tracy opens the refrigerator but it was almost completely empty besides the little bit of chips that were scattered all around it and she furrow her eyebrows, turning around and nearly falling when she bumps into someone's hard chest but he had grabbed her arm and pulled her back up straight to her feet. “Sorry..” she mumbles, looking up and her breath hitches in her throat at how beautiful the dude standing in front of her was.

He had beautiful dark brown hair that was so long that it was starting to make her feel a bit jealous - he had brown eyes that sparkled whenever the light from the ceiling had reflected them. His hair was in two braids that hanged in front of his shoulders and she had to clasp her hands together in order to not touch him.

“Hello,” he greets and she gives him a warm smile along with a wave - she couldn't even find her voice to speak. He then holds out his hand for her to shake. “Everyone calls me Bizzy.”

She shakes his hand and she opens her mouth to respond but nothing came out. She was embarassing the shit out of herself right about now.

He furrow his eyebrows, slowing retracting his hand back. “You mute?” He questions, chuckling a bit and she shakes her head no. The amusement on his face suddenly disappears and it was then replaced with anger.  “Then why the fuck you not talking?”

To say that she was taken back by his sudden mood change was an understatement and she swallows before speaking. “I'm sorry..” she mumbles.

I'm sorry.

That was a phrase that she had used thousands of times while being in a relationship with him. Anytime she did something to “provoke” him, she would always be the one to apologise even if he was the one in the wrong.