Lick

Good Team

I haven't had a rush like that since I first started working for Carlos. It was just, so indescribable. My adrenaline. It surged fast through me, enough to make me lose focus of what was actually going on around me. Look what I'm doing. I was involved in a murder that I didn't set up. How could I honestly know to trust Gunna? What makes me think we could actually get away with this? This wasn't the norm for me. It's strange, but for some reason, no matter my doubts, I still feel safe with him. I feel like he's on my side. Like we're really a team. Just the two of us.

I wonder how Gunna knew Ahkbar. They've had to have some type of relationship with each other. Why would Gunna just randomly have a picture of him and his store in a binder? What is so confidential in that binder as to where he won't even let me hold it? I have so many questions. A man I don't know just got his head fucking blown off behind me. I should be worried, shouldn't I?

Gunna and Tim were smoking, conversing, laughing and having a good time in front of me. But I couldn't help to just sit here and overthink. I couldn't even pick up a blunt. It was too many things going through my mind. I'm surprised Tim even let me in his house. I thought he didn't like me. In reality, I should be the one who doesn't even like him. The nigga had a gun to my damn face. Him and his best friend assuming and shit, thinking I was trying to set Gunna up. Well, in actuality, I was. So were they really wrong about me? This is too much to fathom. I think just too much. This is why I do drugs. To ignore all the things my brain thinks.

I pop pills on a regular. Everyday to be specific, I'm not going lie. It makes my body feel good to me. It helps me from overthinking. I'm usually so focused on how numb my body feels, that I don't have time to listen to my own thoughts. I know I shouldn't do it, but sometimes I feel like I need them. I think about my daddy so much. No one understands how much I miss him. Honestly, I don't know how to cope.

I'm thinking too much, my thoughts are controlling. Why am I thinking so much? I left my bottle at Gunna's house. I don't wanna think. I don't wanna feel. I'm overreacting. I'm overreacting. I can't stop. I can't. I'm trying, I can't.

"Brook, are you okay?" Gunna asked me. I looked over at him shaking.

"I have to go, Gunna." I tried to stand up and walk away. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back down.

"Talk to me, what's wrong?" he asked. His face, it was handsome. His words were so genuine and sweet. He really wanted to know. He reminded me so much of my father. But why? I don't wanna think this.

"I DON'T WANNA THINK!" I yelled. I pulled away from his grasp. I tried to leave out of the door, but he just would not let me. He stood in front of the door, blocking me in.

"Tell me what's wrong Brooklyn!" he demanded.

"I need my percs..." I whispered. His face frowned with uncertainty.

"What do you need?"

"My bottle Gunna! My percs! I left them at your house!" I replied raising the tone in my voice loud enough for him to hear me. He shook his head at me and walked away. I opened the door getting ready to exit again but then he yelled at me.

"Wait! I'm coming with you I got the keys. Go get in Tim's car." he said. Tim looked over at me with disgust.

"Why she gotta get in my car?" Tim asked while hitting my blunt. "Do not start young, we can't ride around in the car we came here with that shit hot! Matter fact you can take us to the crib it's time to dip anyways." Gunna replied. Tim stood up and pulled him to the side.

"Brah, why do you have her helping you on this shit and not me?" Tim asked. He tried to whisper not knowing I could still hear the whole conversation.