𝐋 𝐈 𝐄 𝐒.

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implement music for better experience.
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North Philadelphia ,
1988.

The smell of pork and beans, weed, and alcohol filled the house that belonged to the Carter's. It was one of those nights where everything got real wild. Partying all night, and dancing to some good ol' 70s soul music. Drinking Alize till the sun appeared, rollin' Backwoods, passing them around until there was nothing left, gambling and shambling everything away; that was the culture around here.

11 year old Ace Carter was pretty used to nights like this. Often times his parents wouldn't allow him to come out of his room, but he'd find his way around. Most times, he'd sneak out his window and go toward the back alley until he'd reach the neighborhood park. He stayed there for hours, just working on his craft.

He always wanted to make it and play in the NBA. That was his dream, and he knew that nobody could stop it. He always kept his mind where the money was, just like his father told him.

Often times, he would run into his friend Ricky on the way there. They'd been friends since as they were small, and were complete opposites. Ricky was always out and about, running on streets trying to be like his older brother. As Ricky would put it, his big bro is the 'doughboy'. And there was no doubt that he was. His brother always had the freshest shoes on, the nicest outfits on, the dopest chains, and a new set of rims on his Chevy Impala every week. Ace knew how he made that all happen though. His father always warned him about it. He told him to stay away from that type of stuff, because it doesn't stops unless you're six feet beneath.

Ace's father showed him what it meant to have solidarity from a young age. His father showed him how to defend himself, how to fight. He even taught him how to load a gun, and how to carry it. Aside from those things, he also taught him the simplest things, like how to fix a necktie or how to change a tire. Ace admired that about his father, teaching him all the things a man should know how to do.

When his father told him something deep, he always took his father's word. He always looked up to him, thinking he had the most power. That's what anyone in North Philly would think anyway. The whole hood looked up to and respected Ace's father. It was like they were scared of him. Ace never understood why, but it  really wasn't anything for him to understand really, as long as he knew that his father was the boss.

He always made up when he did wrong. For instance, there would be times where Ace would see his father hit his mother. He hated to see it happen. It angered him a lot, but he knew he couldn't do much to help. His father would always apologize and make up for his actions, buying his mom a new set of earrings, or giving her a new set of clothes just to make her happy. He always explained to Ace that it was never okay to hit on ladies, but that when he did, it was out of anger.

Anything his father did was fine, as long as he made it that way to everyone. A lot of people referred to him as one the original Don Dada in East Coast.

North Philadelphia ,
1991.

"You know what? Fuck you Micheal!! Fuck you!!!"

"Fuck me? After all this shit I done did for yo ass?! You're gonna say that stupid shi— woman, you ain't nothing without me! Remember that! You wouldn't have shit if it wasn't for me! You see these lights on in here? It's all because of me! You see these goddamn bills payed? It's because of me bitch!!"

"You can rot in hell for all I care!!! You and that broad you brought up in my house!!!!"

" Donna, I told you we didn't do anything! Why would I lie to you?"

" You call her laying on top of you in my bed not doing anything?! Move out of my way Mich—"

Anger stemmed from Ace as he watched as his father slapped his mother across the face. It had been his third time seeing him hit her this week. The first time when it happened Ace's father made up for it, but when it happened again Ace knew that his father's apologies weren't sincere like he made them seen. He was determine to go in there and fight him himself.

But all of that energy disappeared when he saw the pistol that layed within his fathers pants. He gasped as he watched his father pull it out and point it toward his mother's head.

" This is what you want? Huh?! You want me to blow your mothetfuckin' brains out all over this floor?" his father
growled.

His mother helplessly pleads for him to stop, and he slams her on the couch with the gun cocked in his left hand. Ace moved toward the scene as he couldn't hide behind his slightly cracked bedroom door anymore. He knew he had to put a stop this. He didn't want it to happen and surely did not want to witness it if it did.

He moves toward the living room, wincing as he hears his mother's screams as his father hits her. When he finally reached the living room, he saw his father on top his mother. He glance over at the loaded pistol that was on the ground near them as well. It took everything in Ace to not pick up the gun. But he couldn't resist seeing his mother being abused like this.

"Stop!" Ace yells, cocking the gun on his father's head.

Suddenly, everything was silent. His father slowly gets up and turns toward Ace with a huge smile on his face.

" What the fuck you gonna do with that? You gone shoot me for putting ya moms in her place?"

Ace's grip on the gun gets stronger as he glances as his mother, who is crying with blood falling from her nose. He couldn't bare to hear his father laugh as all this was happening.

" Since you so bold, do it.....shoot me! I want you to! I want you to shoot the man that made you into what you are becoming! Shoot the man who pushes you to be the best you can! Who taught you how to do all the moves you know on the court, huh? Who taught yo ass how to fight against them dudes that try to pick on you? Man, you only know how to hold that motherfuckin' gun because of me!!!" his father yells. A wave of tears started to find themselves coming to Ace's eyes.

" So if you gon' shoot me, then you better gone 'head and do it!!!"

Ace was really tempted to pull the trigger, but through all of this anger, he could hear the pleading whimpers of his mother telling him not to. He looked over at her, watching a wave of tears fall from her eyes as she shakes her head no.

Ace slowly releases the trigger and pulls the gun from his father's head. His father begins to laugh, sizing up with him.

" Psh...what a fucking joke...." the man says, still smirking. "Go get this motherfucka cleaned up Donna. And fix up yourself. I'm inviting some folks over tonight and this place needs to be in order...."

"I'm gonna go handle some business, so I'll be back soon....Donna, make sure this house is nice and clean like the rims of my Caddy!" his father yells.

He fixes his shirt and pants as he walks toward the door, watching as his wife stormed away with tears and anger. He only continued to laugh under his breath, shaking his head. Before he leaves out, he looks at his son sharply before he takes the gun out his hand.

"Aye, it looks like I taught you real well...you got
heart."

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