MAY 17 3:44 AM
𝖲𝖾𝗏𝖲𝗂𝖽𝖾, 𝖡𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗑, 𝖭𝖾𝗐 𝖸𝗈𝗋𝗄
𝐨𝐦𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐯
The skinny, espresso colored man stood infront of his bathroom mirror, hands on the sink counter.
He looks at his red, puffy eyes, sweat beads drying slowly off of his forehead. He just popped a perc, with a girl who was now knocked out on his bed, in his room down the hall.
This really was an everyday / night routine for him, he invites a girl; or in his words , a "smoochie" over. He went from a different girl every other night, to rotating the same three throughout the week.
He reaches his skinny, veiny hand to the silver sink handle, turning it to the right letting the cold water run down. The water runs out of the faucet, making a slight sound ring through the bathroom, he cups his hands under the sink; bringing the cold water to his face running his wet hands down his sweaty face.
Turning off the sink, he grabs the towel hanging near the mirror—drying his face. He takes one last look at himself in the mirror, being turning the lights off and walking to his bedroom.
The room was dark, lights only coming from the dimmed out red LED lights that wrapped around his room.
Looking at his bed, he see's the warm beige colored girl comfortably laying on the left side of his bed. His bed was tucked in the corner against the wall.
The two young kids just got done having sex, they usually do it under the influence. It makes it more fun for them.
For the past few years he would pop pills, to make him feel more free, so he could have more fun, and so he wouldn't stress.
His dads death hit him hard three years ago, which made him resort to the streets and the pills that would flow through them.
The room reeked of sex, sweat, and a mix of his cologne and her perfume. He dragged his feet over to his window, opening it slightly, the cool breeze busted through the room making him feel a slight relief.
Lifting his red, black, and white comforter up, he slips into the bed, next to the half naked girl. Her back turned to him, wearing nothing but his white shirt and her underwear.
He slips his hand under his pillow, pulling out his iphone 12 max. The screen automatically lit up to his wallpaper, revealing him and his two best friends—Blove and Kay.
His face unlocks his phone, making him swipe up going to the colorful ombré app that had a white camera outline on it.
Scrolling through instagram, he comes across Kay's instagram story, his profile picture highlighted in green.
Clicking to see his close friends, the story opens and he just clicks through. Pausing at a video of Blu and Cal holding each other in a head lock laughing, he smirks seeing the two twins playfully fighting each other.
He liked looking at Cal, he thought she was really attractive. But in his deep, messed up head he thought to himself, 𝙨𝙝𝙚'𝙙 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙢𝙚.
She had a good head on her shoulders, was good at school, actually went to school, and was motivated to make something out of herself—and get out of The Bronx.
To the world, to his fans, and to the girls he would have in his bed and with him, he wanted a mini him, someone who was down and wasn't scared of a thing. Who would without question go do a drill if needed, but the girls who were like that, were also NO good—just like him though. Right?
