Gay in the Game II

Ch. 4 - Unknown

All I remember was the EXTREMELY long car ride, and I put myself to sleep because of the headache I had from crying.

Water was thrown in my face. I struggled, and my face was drenched.

"What the hell!" I yelled.

"Hey, you stop this cussin'!" A lady, standing about 6 feet with about 10 moles scattered across her face said, in a witchy voice.

"...Where am I?"

"You're at a foster home. Welcome." She said in a sarcastic, discusted tone. But I was confused. What was a foster home? When were my daddies coming to pick me up?

Questions rushed through my mind as she grasped my hand and dragged me into the dirty brick building. I barely felt my legs; all I knew was, whatever this place was, I had to get out of here.

"I wanna go home!"

"And I want a vacation. Get your little ass in here." The lady scolded.

"NO!"

I pushed her off of me and began running down the sidewalk. I never ran so fast in my life. The busy streets all stopped to stare at a grown woman chasing this little boy.

Sweat ran down my face as I ran block after block. The lady's legs were very long; she might've been old, but she could run like I could.

After what seemed like two miles of running, I tripped over a Pepsi can. I dramatically dropped to the ground, knees first. I layed on the ground with bloody knees.

"Getcho lil ass over here!" The lady picked me up by my afro and dragged me down the street.

"Hey, let him go!" A man screamed in the distance.

The lady exchanged a dirty, attacking look at the mad man. She walked over to him, the same height as him.

"And if I don't?" she said, still holding me by my hair.

"I'll call the police." The man came closer to the lady's face, threatening her with his eyes.

The lady picked me up by my hair, as I struggled to stand on two feet.

"C'mon, you little fucker." She said as she grabbed my hand and walked me down the street.

"If it wasn't for people like your fucking parents.... Fucking faggots... I wouldn't deal with this shit..." she whispered under her breath.

I didn't say a word... I was kind of used to it. It's sad that I can get used to something so cruel, but I guess that's life.

_____

"You ready, Mar?" Martez said, as he slipped his ski mask over his caramel face. It was night, and he was barely visible.

"You know I'm ready." Marcis did the same, grabbing the bomb out of his pocket.

What's going on? Let me rewind.

"Take these damn handcuffs off of me!" Marcis screamed, even intimidating the police officers.

"Sit the fuck down, now! You're under police custody, and you must follow our orders!" The officer shoved them into the car.

"I ain't do shit!" Marcis screamed, not knowing that this could get him in more trouble.

The police officers stuffed the two men into the car, even though both Martez and Marcis could easily beat each officer to death if they wanted to.

The ride was only about 10 minutes, but seemed like an hour. Martez and Marcis had been in custody many times before, but this time, their hearts were beating out of their chests.

Why? Because they could possibly lose their greatest creation -- Martez's child.

When they arrived at the station, The officers got out of the car in unison, and snatched the couple out. Marcis remained calm, but Martez on the other hand, was ready to commit murder.

"Aye, nigga, don't put yo fuckin' hands on me! I will murk-"

"Martez, SHUT THE FUCK UP! We tryna get our kid back! Being angry ain't gone do shit but put us further into the drama!" Marcis screamed.

"Man, these racist bastards won't give our kid back if I kissed they fuckin' ass, anyway! I might as well show out for these bitches!" Martez screamed, talking to Marcis but facing the officer with hate in his eyes.

"Look, Tez. Remember we promised to get our shit together when we first moved out of NOLA? We can't go back to this shit. Being mad isn't gone get us nowhere!" Marcis pleaded.

"They got my fuckin' kid. MY FUCKING CHILD!! Fuck I'm sposed to do, compliment them?"

"Just calm down. They might give him back to us, but we'll never know if you keep actin' like a hood nigga. We in Atlanta now. Get this shit together, Tez."

Martez took a deep breath, trying his best to cooperate. Marcis smirked at the police officer.

The police officers escorted them to their temporary cell until questioning. But once those officers made sure they were alone, they set themselves up for disaster.

"So, wassup with the plan to get out this bitch and get my kid back?" Marcis asked.

Remember last time when Martez escaped from prison? Well, this was round two.

----------

The mean lady dragged me back into the foster home. I was tired, angry and I missed my daddies. I just wanted to go home.

"You go in here, you bad ass lil boy." The lady pushed me into a room. In the room, there were 2 boys and a girl. I walked over to the boys, since the girl looked like she was coloring.

"Sup."

"The fuck, boy?" One boy said, sounding like a grown ass man.

"I'm Jordan."

"Nigga, we not here to make friends. Fuck outta here." The boys walked away, and sat on the bed.

Me, not giving a fuck, walked over to the girl and sat down.

"Hey, they're so mean." I said. "Hi, I'm Jordan."

She looked up and smiled. "Hi! My name is Giselle Turner."

Little did I know, Turner was my real mother's last name.