Work For It (Urban Fiction)
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- Votes 39
- Parts 2
Everyone should know that nothing in life is handed to; well everyone should know it... if they don't, shame on them. I work for mines, one way or another.. legally or illegally. I find ways to money for my wants and needs. Some people may look at me as a hoe, but I'm a smart, clean, pretty hoe. My mom died in a car crash, two years ago, when I was 14.. she was 5 months pregnant with a baby girl. Over time, my dad became a drunk.. and no telling what else. He's never around anymore, leaving me; a sixteen year old, a banging body, and a mind of a grown money-making woman to learn to live glamorously in the hood.
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#939
ghetto
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Even if I am a billionaire now, mom and I usually talk but dad is still hard on me. He didn't want me living away from home at the age of twenty five, and wasting away my money to some girl or women who only wanted my fame, fortune but not the real me, as what he always say, the last time he talked to me, which was five years ago. But I liked the attention, the fake loves or smiles, but it changed when I swerved my car down an alley and saw a girl walking, swaying like she's drunk or didn't care what happens to her. I almost hit her and shouted pulling down my car window, but she isn't budging. Oh, my God, is she dead or did I hit her? I looked outside and I think it's okay to get out of the dark street.
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