The ghetto child ,the sad case ,the unfortunate one, and wait a minute you can't leave out the forgotten one.
Usually these assumptions would make me angry well all except one: Ghetto Child.
This story takes place where last breaths, fast money an...
A tragedy need not have blood and death; it's enough that it all be filled with that majestic sadness that is the pleasure of tragedy ~ Jeane Racine
Chapter 4: High'💨 August 24th Monday
Recap on GhettoChild:
Jai'Yanna finally did the dance she's been dreading to do with Christian, and maybe she got a little more than what she bargained for.
It was already bad enough that he was breathing the same air as her, but now he's making it clear that even she is his territory.
Sahara, on the other hand, was left on edge when her best friend never returned to class. Little did Jai'Yanna know that Sahara had a secret of her own that she wanted to share...
Jai'yanna was grappling with a noticeable depression, but it seemed like everyone around her was always too preoccupied to notice. As a result, she slowly found herself drowning in the darkness. But how far will she go before it's too late?
Let's continue....
Jaiyanna's POV :
I arrived at the house, playing slow jams. The entire ride home was tense. All I could think about was the bag on CJ's head and Christian's smile.
As I walked up my porch steps, I closed my car door and unlocked the front door. The fresh scent of cinnamon hit my nose, and I couldn't help but smile. Finally, I was home.
Dropping my bag on the couch, I settled on the end and clicked on the remote to the TV to BET. A smile spread across my face: Friday, and this is my day!
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*Ring Ring*
I glanced over at the house phone, which lit up. I threw a small tantrum as I listened to our answering machine read out the number.
1 (800) 765-67xx
As I picked up the phone, my mind immediately went to my dad. The anger I felt towards that man radiated throughout my body. "Short and quick!" I tried to prepare myself before answering. "Hello-" I sighed, letting my irritation be known from the other end of the phone.
"You sound just like your mother—" a husky-sounding voice answered the phone. Now I knew I hadn't heard my dad's voice in about a week, but I was certain this wasn't him on the phone. I sat up off the couch. Wait, my mother—it finally registered what he had said.
