the answer to her question

it smells like cherries up in this bitch

im really not in any position to be starting another story I'm probably just gonna let everyone down but it's fine...

6 years old, you'd think it's a time of enjoyment, playing with your friends you have no trouble making, no worries on your mind, splashing in a monkey shower, rolling in the mud like an animal, but you don't care. You're pure, innocent, you don't know the world, you haven't yet been carved by our cruel, selfish society. You just enjoy being able to live, enduring cuts and bruises along the way that will eventually fade into scars, memories, that will remind you of the good old days. But no, not for me. My parents? Lunies. My brother? He's wonderful, I love him. My sister? Batshit crazy, and that's an understatement. My scars formed early on, sure they were memories, but they weren't good ones.

I lived on a culdesac, 16 houses, 16 families. I loved my neighborhood, I loved my city. But I hated my family, I knew from a very early age that there was something wrong with them, I didn't know what it was, I thought it was funny them fumbling around saying silly things. Drugs and mental illness, that's what it was. My brother and sister took care of me the best they could, yet I was filthy and hungry, in need of my parents love. Which I never received. My sister left when I was five, my brother Malone told me she set fire to her boyfriend's house and ran off to Idaho, scared of the consequences. I appreciated his bluntness, but at the same time it fucking terrified me. One good thing about my parents, they didn't choose common names for they're children, my sisters name was Mumbi, meaning 'mother of the people' which is ironic cause she ended up mothering 12 children. I'm not sure where she's at now, family curse probably caught up to her.

I found my dad dead in the bathtub when I was 6, he overdosed. But I thought he was sleeping, I nudged him, and as I was doing so I caught a glimpse of a needle. I called my mom over, she said he was dead. I asked why, she said, "Because of the needle". Ever since I've been terrified of needles. Thanks mom, now I'm a nightmare at the doctors office. My mom ended up having some sort of episode due to my dad's death, I'm not quite sure what it was, I never asked. But Malone ended up having to kill her. I trust there was a good reason. Turns out there's a long history of mental illness and drug abuse in my family, surprise!

After Malone killed our mother, we left, to just down the street.

6 year old me was fine with this, I knew my parents were bad people and I knew I would be happier without them, which looking back on is weird because children usually love they're parents unconditionally no matter what they put them through. But I didn't.

We lived with Malone's friend, forgot his name. But he had a little brother my age and we immediately became best friend, as little kids do. His name was Fangs, I did everything with Fangs, and I still do. I will love him for eternity, cliche whatever, fuck you. Malone and I lived with Fangs and his brother for 7 years. Everything was going smooth until Malone was found guilty of our mother's murder. He got sentenced 16 years, and I wasn't familiar with anything law related but young me thought that was a long ass time. Once Malone was in jail his friend told me I couldn't stay with him anymore, so Fangs and I ran away, to Riverdale. Good old Riverdale, a town with pep. We've been living here for the last 4 years, and although my life as a youngin was traumatic, I'm happy now. We didn't have anywhere to stay when we got to Riverdale, somehow we wandered into pops where we met FP, the caring man he is, he took us in. And we ended up joining the serpents within the next month. We attend Riverdale high, we have legal jobs, ofcourse. And I have a fucking house! Well, a trailer. I never thought I'd be here at 17 years old, me and my best friend living our best lives in Riverdale. And hotdog of course, hotdog is thriving.

I've changed a lot since I moved to Riverdale, or maybe more so since I joined a gang. I've become tough, I'm not a naive little girl anymore. I don't take bullshit, it doesn't matter who you are, I don't take it. I even have a pocket knife. I mean shit, what's more badass than that?