All characters and events in this story are completely fictional. If anything seems familiar it is completely coincidental. All situations in this story come completely from my imagination. ________________ "And you need to stop calling me 'shawty', I'm not your girl so stop pushing the issue, I don't want to be just another name in your little black book." I said sounding more appalled than I could ever really be. He started walking closer to me and before I knew it, he had my back against the wall and my left leg wrapped around his waist. The look that he gave made him look so powerful that I couldn't help but be intimidated and turned on at the same time. "Look mami I don't think you really hearin' me so let me break this shit down to you real brief. Imma be around for the time bein' whether you want to be or not, I'm not goin' no where. Just let me have one chance." "Prove it." ________________

Ain't got nothin', won't be nothin'. That's the motto that most of the boys from the east side of Brooklyn went by. Some of them were thieves, drug dealers, murderers, or even rapists. They were an array of criminals, but all for one reason - to get by. Then there were the others, the ones who were athletes or writers or engineers, talented people who actually had a ticket out of the hood. Then there were people in the middle who got along with everybody but never really chose one side. People like Max. When you float along in the river that is the ghetto, you may think you're unbothered, but there is always something waiting. There will always be a stick in the water, and for Max, it all came at the wrong time. Most of his friends were on the criminal side, but he was just about to get his one-way departure ticket before things came crashing down. There were only two possibilities: either he got stuck in the hood forever, or he lost his life. After living here for so long, you realize that those two are one and the same.

Power and violence are opposites; where the one rules absolutely, the other is absent. Violence appears where power is in jeopardy, but left to its own course it ends in power's disappearance - Hannah Arendt

"FUCK, why do you do this to me Bibby?" I asked frustration shooting through my voice as I finally looked up at him. He furrowed his brows as his eyes filled with confusion. "What you mean Ari? Do what?" "Make everything so hard? Every time I try to move on you pop up, I just can never ESCAPE from you" I cried. "Why can't you just leave me alone?" My voice Cracked and was almost at a whisper. This was causing me so much pain and all I could do was question why?. In a blink of an eye Life just started spiraling out of control. "Because you are My escape." He confessed emphasizing his words. I froze my eyes softening as I stared into his doleful eyes. They were emitting with gloom and almost begged for acceptance making my heart instantly break. He was under pressure And he knew the only way to diminish the tension was to admit his feelings. For a person like him it was an uncomfortable situation when you love someone but because of your hard shell was afraid to admit it.

Interlude (n): is defined as an intervening or interruptive period, space, or event. These intervals in time are often accompanied by new experiences, new memories, or new people. But, in Bryson's case, it's all the above. (Updates every Friday)