Suicide Hotline ~ NBA Youngboy ~ Completed

~| twenty-seven |~

~| Baton Rouge, Louisiana |~
~| Floyd House |~
~| July 22, 2017 |~

~| Iyanna Donkey Mayweather |~

(A/n: her middle name sticking to that ion care🤷🏾‍♀️)

I chuckled lowly, looking at the pregnancy tests.

Lately I had been feeling sick, so I decided to sneak and buy me some tests.

I took four of them, just to be sure.

Looking down, at them I read them.

All four, positive.

This has to be Kentrell's baby.

I had only been with him, and my ex before.

So I'm pretty sure, this his baby.

Can't be my ex baby, we haven't had sex in a while.

Even when he tried to get back with me while I was with Kentrell, I turned him down though.

Stupid of me, since me and Kentrell ain't even together no more.

But I'll be getting him back, especially with this baby.

Yeah, I might've planned to trap him.

That's just life.

He ain't gotta know about all that anyways.

Smiling to myself, I stood in the bathroom mirror turning to the side raising my shirt up.

My parents must know about this, since I know imma start showing soon.

I'll tell them later, just really need to be talking to Kentrell about this right now.

Or maybe I should tell Carmen first.

Him and her seem very close.

Sometimes I think they be fucking around, but that's not possible.

No way.

She's overaged, and he's a minor.

Carmen could go to jail, and I know she wouldn't risk that.

Gathering up the tests, I threw them inside of the bathroom trash before walking out.

Laying across my bed, I got on my phone, and called Carmen.

It rung for a while, then I heard talking. "You hear this? Yeah, this means I'm not answering right now. So stop fucking with me, and leave a message. Bye."

She really need to change that, because that's rude as hell.

I went, and called Kentrell phone.

His voicemail machine started talking. "Say slime leave a young nigga a message, might not even check it. But whatever."

Damn, what the fuck?