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You know what separates the boys from the men? Men give respect and boys crave that shit. Didn't matter where the fuck I went ..respect stood in front of me. I wasn't going to beg for it, even if it wasn't given to me at first, you'd learn I deserved it.
But I couldn't respect the man standing infront of me. He was supposed to be a man, but he wasn't. He was a pussy ass lil boy, and he was supposed to be my "pops".
Nah. A man who was supposed to be your father wouldn't walk out on you. He wouldn't leave you or your mother and force her to play both parts. He wouldn't choose the streets, hoes, and partying over taking care of his own. A man wouldn't do that shit, but a boy would.
And Antonio Santos despite being 48 years old was still a boy.. He always would be. I was more of a man than he ever would be. I had scars on my heart to prove it.
Antonio was the patriarch of my existence Shit, he was the root to my suffering, He'd Implanted my moms with his forbidden liquid and placed me in her womb. He'd made a mistake bringing me here, into this world where I could do more harm then good. They'd fucked up.
He'd fucked up. His relationship with me, her and everyone in this family. But yet he thought it was okay to show up every once in a while just to pretend he cared.
Fuck him
The living Room was silent. Moms stood with her arms crossed as Me and Cato looked at the door at this nigga. He had get well balloons in his arms like I was still in the hospital. The hospital he didn't visit not once, when I was fighting for my life. But it's cool. It showed me where we stood and only solidified the feelings I had for him. It was fuck him, Always would be.
" What the fuck are you doing here?" I gritted. Moms eyes grew wide as she looked over at Me. I didn't care about my tone. Or how I talked to this nigga. I hadn't been sleep in 6 days and the aggravation in my soul only heightened as I looked at him. He made me sick. Antonio just stood clutching the balloons in his hands with a hurt look on his face.
