I remember how my hustle started, but can’t really explain how it got out of control. I walked in on Unk and his boys watching a porno in the basement. All of them had a bottle of some sort in their hand, one Hennessey, one Remy and another with a purple bag and all of them had their hands in their pants. One guy’s eyes were closed while he moaned; the other guy’s eyes were glued to the TV with his mouth open. There was a bottle of lotion on the badly scratched wooden coffee table when it hit me – OH SHIT they are jerking off. I almost said something when I started to turn around to get out of there when the man with the purple bag asked, “Yo Little Shorty what up? Why you leavin’?”
Dear Diary, I woke up wet again. My t-shirt and my underwear were wet, but for different reasons. I have been having the same nightmare since I moved to this hell hole. I can still feel the pain and smell his breath. I can still see my mother’s face and hear her screaming, calling me a bitch and telling me to get out of her house while she was hugging my brother. I don’t know how I feel about anything anymore.
I am suppose to start my sessions with that lady named Ms. Betty this week...
User Comments (4)
This is good, sad, and crazy all at the same time! It’s reality though and while it may be disturbing for all the folks living in Pleasantville, it’s the truth. Can’t wait to read the chapter in its entirety.
Blue, your writing is amazing! I know “the boy” and many boys like him. I can’t wait to read the rest. You go girl!
Our young black men are in trouble and the truth is harsh. I hope you will enjoy reading about his journey.
This excerpt has me interested and curious to know how character ” the boy” hustle begins and how it spirals out of control? Unfortunately, the path to self destruction increases for young boys when caring adults and role models like fathers, husband and mentors are missing. I cannot wait to peer into his life and see how his character develops.