Snatched (August Alsina)

Chapter 19: Crushin' Dreams

Flashback: Four Years Ago

Note: Of course certain aspects of this story aren't accurate to August's actual life, so in this story the relationship with his mom is gonna be different. Don't accuse me of trying to give her a bad image because I'm not.

"I don't know why you keep makin' em videos" Mama said from the open door frame to my bedroom unexpectedly, which had interrupted my singing and caused me to pause the youtube video I was in the middle of making. I had turned around to her grasping either side of a hamper full of neatly folded clothes.

"Whachu mean?" I asked, trying not to let my annoyance towards the disruption show through my tone or expression.

"You keep tryna upload 'em videos on bluetube or whatever the fuck it's called expecting someone to discover you and sign you" Mama replied as she set the hamper down against my wall. I scrunched my eyebrows confusedly and decided to jump right to defense.

"I ain't tryna get signed, I'm tryna express my voice and get it noticed."

"But you wanna get famous" She pointed out.

"I want to. I'm not expecting to" I shot back.

"Good, cuz you ain't. The chances of that happening are so slim. Broke nobodys like us don't ever get noticed. Only good singing gets chosen anyway."

Mama always had a way of letting me down. I always wanted to be a singer, and I did used to believe I could be one, but she eventually led me to purely think that I won't ever be - she don't even like my voice. That never stopped me from singing, though; it's something I love to do, even if it's just for fun.

"Stop your singin' and put this shit away" She added. "And clean the rest of this disgusting ass room while you at it, You gonna have catastrophic roaches if you keep this mess up."

"Yes ma'am" I mumbled, rolling my eyes as soon as she turned around to leave my room.

She's been even bitchier since daddy died.

I got up to clean when Mel came into my room, grabbing my attention as he closed the door behind him almost all the way.

"The fuck you want?" I asked, letting my just-recieved bad mood show through.

"Chill Aug, I jus' wanted to talk to you about what mama just said. I heard it from my room."

"What about it" I asked, picking up one of the stacks of folded clothes in one hand then proceeding to open the closet door in the other.

"She wrong about you, bruh. You got talent like no other nigga. That voice of yours is special and I think you can make it big. Hell, I know you can."

"I don't need your pep talk right now" I said as I neatly placed the stack on an open shelf space. "I know I ain't ever gonna be a singer."

"Not with that attitude. Cut the negativity and gain some confidence in yourself. Who cares what mama says, she always talkin' shit about me and you. You just gotta learn not to listen."

I admit what he said gave me a little hope for myself, but not enough, and I never really responded to what he told me. Instead, after a few moments of silence and him waiting for me to say something, he gave up with a frustrated sigh and left the room.

He's a grown ass man and still livin' with us with no job except that drug dealin' he just started and keepin' from mama, he ain't got the right to talk about other people succeeding and makin' it big.