𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓 ⁿᵒᵗᵗⁱ ᵒˢᵃᵐᵃ|DISCONTINUED

𝟕𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍

*NOT EDITED*
(sorry)

NADIA AND ETHAN lay on her bed staring at the ceiling as Teenage Fever by Drake blasted loudly throughout the room. The only other sounds being their light breathing and the rain beating against the window pane. A few honks and tires could also be heard from the busy New York streets especially since the window was open just a tad.

Ethan tangled his hand in hers as they laid side by side just taking in the moment. You never know how long moments like these would last. Sweet innocent moments were rare in Sugarhill. By the time you're ten years old, you would've already had a taste of the real world. Adults often don't recognize how much children are able to comprehend bad experiences and poverty, which is why they push how kids feel to the side.

Trust me, they notice the eviction papers on the table, right on top of the light bills and car notes and rent. They knew what those notices looked like before they could even read the bold words.

Life in Sugarhill started off like this:

You're born into poverty. Often a single parent, maybe an immigrant who met a New York native and was left alone with a child.

Ages 1-4 are probably the best, most care free years of your life, if you can remember it that is.

By the time you're 5, you've probably already been introduced to the gang life in Sugarhill, especially if you have an older sibling. You're taught to pick a side and stay there. By 6, you've picked up on the lingo and learned not to answer the phone for bill collectors. By 7, you've been taught not to answer the door for the landlord and how to pretend no one's home. By this age, you've probably already learned how to drop OY also.

By 8, you're rolling with the big dogs. You're older street brothers you take you under their wing and show you the ways of the streets. By 9, you're smoking and toting. By 10, you're dissing people who died before you could even talk and possibly selling drugs. Yes, a fourth grader with a gun on their hip and drugs in their spider man backpack.

By 11 you've either witnessed or committed your first murder, which changes who you are as a person. By 12, you're rapping and still selling drugs which brings in a lot of money to feed you're family. By 13, the closest person to you would have died causing you to seek revenge. This is often the age where kids here lose their virginities, if not, earlier.

By the time you're 14, you're on your own. You're officially old enough to make decisions and those who were guiding you left you to fend for yourself. Now, life gets real. Deaths, murders, charges, jail time.

But you're taught that it's all worth it. Because what man would you be if you can't feed and protect you're family?

Christmas always felt lonely. You were lucky if you even had enough money for a new coat during the wintertime, let alone toys. You're toys were whatever youre imagination could create. His toys, were the loaded guns that were used and passed on to him. Her toys were the hidden bottles of alcohol her mother saved for a rainy day.

Such as this. But both of them were completely sober. No guns, no drugs, no pain. Just innocence and safety.

"How's music going Eth?" She spoke filling the silence with his favorite sound. His head turned to her, eyes immediately locked with her lips as he shrugged. The sound of her kissing her teeth made him look up and look into her eyes seeing she actually wanted an answer.

"It's aight ion know... Ian really been paying attention to numbers and shit" he replied adverting his eyes to the spinning fan on the ceiling. "Why is that" she questioned turning on her stomach and folding her arms under her head.