💞
'packing'
thursday
Seven woke up roughly, staring at her feet.
She looked over to her left, seeing Stokeley asleep shirtless, hearing light snores leave him.
She smirked to herself, realising that they both were off today, since the splazz stayed closed on Thursdays. Seven had no idea why, but hey, who gives a fuck.
She got up and roamed around Jahseh's room, quietly.
It was completely empty, making the information that he was moving out make more sense. His walls were painted grey, and the tape from all his posters being hung up were still stuck on the walls.
Walking further round his room, she was greeted by a mirror. She saw herself in it, not finding any pleasure in her image whatsoever. She dragged her fingers through her long braids, still staring into the mirror.
Her cheeks were still cut and bruised, but it was healing. The way her small body swam in Stokeley's big clothes, made her chuckle as she felt nothing would ever look good in her body.
Huffing, she eyed herself longer. Pointing out what she hated with a passion, and what she hated less than everything else. She was tired, mentally. Never has she ever been a little selfish and put herself first in situations with the ones she loved.
They all killed her confidence, and left her heartbroken. She couldn't get Diego off of her mind, and the feeling of her time being wasted came back.
I wonder what he's going
If he still cares
If he misses me
If he wants me home
She thought, looking away from the mirror for a split second. She only wanted him, but she wanted him to want her, but it was never going to happen. He was toxic, manipulative, selfish.
Get the fuck over it bitch, heon want you
She walked away from her reflection, turning around and smiling at Stokeley. He was so angelic to her, so pure. He didn't even need to be this nice, but he was doing it anyway, and she appreciated it.
She walked out through the bedroom door, feeling cool from the unexpected coldness in Stokeley's house this morning. She strolled down the stairs, finding herself in full view of his tiny kitchen.
Quietly, Seven looked for the equipment to make breakfast. She took out her ingredients, and placed the pan on the stove turning it on.
The heat sizzled, as she switched from the bacon and the pancakes. She hummed her song, feeling content in the kitchen. She heard racket upstairs, until Stokeley came wizzing past her.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck" he panicked, buttoning up his work shirt. Seven turned around, confused. "What's yo frustration?" She laughed. "We late, we late for work" he yelled.
She cackled harder, "Stokeley, today we're off. We never open on Thursdays." He stared at her blankly, feeling stupid for even panicking like that.
She shook her head smiling, serving their breakfast. She handed him a plate, and fixed herself one. He smirked, "thanks." She hummed in response, making her way to the living room.
She already felt comfortable under Stokeley's roof, not finding his environment a problem. She enjoyed it, she'd rather be here than her loud nigerian auntie's house. Everything was such a clutter there, but sheloved the energy, for it was all she really knew.
(AH-DAY-GO)
Auntie Adaego was her mother figure more than anything else. She took her in, loved her. She gave Seven the money to survive in Broward, her leaving took a lot of emotion and life out of Seven, since her aunt was all she loved.
She missed her cousins, her aunties, everything that she left was in Miami. Seven truly had nothing here, she was so lonely and lost. What was she going to make out of all of this? What was her purpose here? What was her purpose in general?
I mean, she was only 16 but she honestly had no choice but to grow up fast. She was honestly tired, but she's used to her exhaustion.
Stokeley grabbed her plate, placing it on top of his once she was done with her food. "Sevenn," Stokeley called, washing the dishes. She hummed in response, fiddling with the end of the couch cushion.
"What we finna do today? We can't just be in all day"
She breathed out, turning on her back. "Ion know, what do you have in mind?" She questioned.
Drying his hands, he walked out the kitchen standing at the living room door frame. He shrugged, "And anyway, how am I supposed to go anywhere. I don't have any clothes."
Stokeley folded his arms, leaning against the door. "Does he have a job?" He asked, she nodded. "He won't be back until tomorrow on Thursdays, but I don't even know what he's doing. Probably selling weed, and other shit" he nodded.
"We'll pull up then" Seven's mouth dropped.
"You've got the keys, so you'll go over there whilst he's gone, and get you clothes back." Seven stood up, her eyebrows raised in surprise.
"Stokeley, you know what he'll do to me if he sees me?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "I'll beat his ass if he touches you, c'mon fix up and we'll go. My clothes are in my room, pick what you wanna wear." He shrugged, trailing away.
She walked up the stairs, taking a shower and wearing one of Stokeley's hoodies, and his basketball shorts.
He looked at her and smiled, opening the front door and hopping into his car, driving off to Seven's old home.
She didn't think she'd be back here again. She tapped in a code, unlocking the apartment door, getting inside. She breathed out, as Stokeley stayed outside waiting on her to bring her suitcases.
Walking through the house was a mess, everything was dirty and out of place. He had another panic attack again. She could tell by the amount of rubbish that was spread around on the floor, the pinching glass that covered the wooded ground.
She pulled open her closet, seeing the clothes that she kept in there. She grabbed them all, shoving them into her suitcase. She walked over to her side of the dressing table, putting all of her belongings in there.
Opening one of her shoe boxes, see saw all of hurt. Her bad habits, all that she's missed. Her pills, her weed. Codeine, Xanax, Ecstasy. Her razor blades, her weed everything.
Feeling herself getting uneasy, she grabbed all her pills, stuffing them in her pockets.
She huffed out, grabbing everything that she had collected, running towards Stokeley.
This was it.
