17 | Money Power Blind

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𝓒HAPTER SEVENTEEN.

Life's A Wild Ride, Heads Up Even When It Throws Unexpected Loops. Trust, It's Like A Rollercoaster Switch –Folks You Bank On Might Surprise You. Therefore, It's coo' to Be A Bit Selfish, Check Your Seatbelt, & Navigate Those Twists 'Cause Self-Preservation Is Your VIP Pass To This Crazy Coaster Called Life.

- 𝒥uan Collins







𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐈 | VOLUME ONE

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𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐈 | VOLUME ONE.
MONEY, POWER, BLIND.
[ HARLEM, NY ]

She stared at the plain, white-painted wall, lost in contemplation. It had been a week since she found herself placed in a new foster care system in the Bronx. Adjusting to a different school, taking on household chores, and battling fatigue, she questioned the fairness of it all. The desire to reunite with her family intensified with each passing day, but communication was blocked by foster parents citing rules. Stripped of her belongings, she felt like a prisoner in this unfamiliar situation, relying on the basics they provided. In this unexpected and challenging scenario, she was navigating through a metaphorical hell hole. A palpable numbness enveloped her, leaving her devoid of words or emotions, the weight of pain etched in her eyes. Despite the impending milestone of turning eighteen in a couple of weeks, the abrupt separation led her to a profound introspection about her existence. Contemplating whether she desired to endure further hardships, she grappled with the overwhelming question of whether life still held meaning for her.

Trapped in a freezing room with inadequate bedding, she felt like unlucky, a coerced servant in her assigned space. Days were spent in isolation, avoiding communication, and engaging only when forced into household chores. As the sole foster child to addicted parents, another failure of the child welfare system, Emauni's anger intensified, particularly directed at Wayne. His inability to maintain a stable life fueled resentment, as she pondered the alternate reality where she wouldn't be in this predicament. However, she grappled with the complexity of blaming him, recognizing the harsh reality of her orphan status. Nightly, Emauni's thoughts circled, leaving her emotionally drained and tearful. A single tear traced down her cheek, her expression unwavering, as she allowed the weight of her emotions to envelop her. In these moments, she acknowledged that maintaining a facade of strength wasn't always the wisest decision.

Suddenly, the resounding echo of the front door slamming open disrupted the silence, unleashing a torrent of arguments downstairs. Unfamiliar voices clashed with those of her foster parents, their heated exchanges creating a cacophony that left Emauni bewildered, struggling to make sense of the distant uproar. Amidst the tumult, a woman's voice, charged with intensity, pierced through the chaos. It steadily approached, climbing the stairs, and Emauni, confined to her room, felt a mix of anxiety and anticipation as the confrontation drew nearer, shrouded in mystery. "Bitch, I don't give a fuck! I'm here to take the shits I left, then I'm gone!" The door swung open, and the woman stormed into the room, her back turned as she continued to shout, evidently oblivious to Emauni's presence. "You got ten fucking seconds, you spoiled brat!" Between the exchange of shouts between her foster mother and the woman, she kissed her teeth in frustration.

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