I still think about him sometimes.
Well all the time.
He's always gonna be a part of be Nathaniel is, even if he is six feet under.
I think about our life together, would i be doing the job im doing now at nineteen? Or would i be his Trap queen? I like the sound of that, I'd rather be his than anything else in this world, and it hurts, it hurst so bad that he is never coming back again, im never going to hear his voice cussing me out if i leave one of my exstentions on the floor whilst taking them out or something dumb like that, i miss the little things the most.
I tend to read over our old chats when he pops up into my head,that is the only reason why i keep BBM. sometimes i spend hours, reminiscing about times we spent together, often i wish i would have stayed with him longer in some situations so i'd have more to remember about, more to look back on and smile. People say ive changed, and i know its true. Im more guarded about who i let in, but who wouldn't be? He was just gone. Like that boof. No explanation, even though i knew what i was signing up for when i got with him, my dad surely did aswell, i remember when Nathaniel's murder was publicized, on BBC news, Itv, the sun everywhere, again the proud Nigerian dad thing kicked in, he told me "I told you so, i told you he was in a gang , it only ends one way." Then onward i knew i had to prove him wrong, and show him that Nathaniel hadn't 'Influenced' me in any way and that i was gonna go far, my way to show him was by Rashad. He is becoming more than a job to me but that's good,he is my motivation and today we were starting with a new approach. I was now dressed in extreme white ripped jeans, simple black bralet crop top, over that was my light khaki green over coat and low converses, My lips were coated in a dark purple color, and thin black line of winged eyeliner, i tend not to do that much makeup, i love my dark choclate skin and there was no need to altar it in any way, i let my hair cascade down my back and picked up my black Louboutin bag, looking myself over in the mirror my sisters voice made me shudder, "Ayoooo Pengting!"
"Dami don't you get bored?"
"Where you going looking all pengers, I see you sis." Damilola, My seventeen year old sister. She's beautiful, confident and i love her to pieces, Only one thing is that she could be part of 'Mean girls' the only problem was that she was black Dami man! Could you not."
"Hold on- Hold up, True say these are mine." she tugged at my jeans
"Allow it Dami. I brought them the other day."
"Your lucky you know."
"Whatever."
"Nobut real talk where you going?"
" Work"
"So why you going looking all, you know tunup,slap weh."
"Shutup Dami." i laughed "Maybe when i finish work you can link me? Nandos?"
"Is Seun coming? I aint paying."
I smirked lightly at my sisters remark but slowly came back to reality, it was sad that we had to see out Big brother in hiding, Dad threw him out because of his ways but, that shouldn't hinder our relationship with him? "I'll call him."
She nodded
"See you later." i told her leaving the room.
"Ah, Naomi."
"Mummy im gonna be late."
she patted my bellow "Ay, so you do Shakara, Shakara!"
"Mum is this what you stopped me for?" I laughed shaking my head
"I want you to get in contact with your brother for me."
"I was just about to do that."
"Do not tell your father of this Naomi"
she spoke with authority, something i hadn't heard for a while seen as she's under my fathers 'spell' but to her it was like that, it was the African tradition, i didn't blame her. Once i was out the house i made my way to my silver vaxhall corsa.I called my brother sliding the phone between my ear and neck, i frowned when it went straight to voicemail, this boy is never available.
