𝔊𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔡 ✪ ybn | 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝.

 A Hard Knock Life

PLAYLIST⏯ MUSIC WILL BE IN THE MULTIMEDIA SECTION. IF THERE ISN'T A YOUTUBE VIDEO FOR IT, THERE WON'T BE ONE.

Zahmir & Nahmir / The Santana Twins

"Bruh, sit your ass still," Nahmir hissed. Zahmir winces in agony as Nahmir tends to the bullet wound on his twin brothers' left shoulder. He grabs the tweezers from the first aid kit and trys to carefully remove the bullet.

"Ah, fuck!" Zahmir growls as he flinches. Nahmir held him down and applied pressure to the wound as he tries to find the bullet. Zahmir sat angry in misery, feeling the need to punch someone or something.

"Be still!" Nahmir says and Zahmir flinched once again.

"Nigga you be the one with the bullet deep in your fuckin' shoulder as see how it fuckin' feels!" Zahmir barked. Nahmir only rolled his eyes and kissed his teeth.

"Maybe if you didn't talk to his ass out the side of yo' damn neck, maybe we wouldn't have this problem!"

If Zahmir hadn't been talking recklessly to their stepfather, he wouldn't be in this situation. They both knew better to talk to their stepfather, Calvin, from the side of their neck because they knew the possible outcome of doing so.

Zahmir shook his head, "He can't just be treating us any type of way, bruh."

Calvin been treating them differently every since their mother left them in the gang; most likely abandoned them, they were only ten. Calvin was-no, is an abusive, cold hearted man.

"I know, Zah, but I don't want you six feet in the dirt because of that nigga. If you was gone right now I don't know what I would do, man," Nahmir confessed as he dabbed a lightly drenched hydrogen peroxide cotton ball around Zahmir's wound. The bloody bullet sat on a towel, ready to be disposed.

"Stop talkin' that shit; you ain't losing me no time soon," Zahmir said.

Nahmir put a adhesive bandage on Zahmirs' shoulder, "There."

"Thank you, Nah," Zahmir thanked his brother.

Nahmir nodded and sat beside his brother on the island.

"How-" Nahmir was interrupted by their stepfather.

"Nahmir, bring yo' ass here!"

Nahmir and Zahmir looked at eachother before hopping from the island together. Zahmir followed him upstairs into the meeting room where there was a grande mahogany table, with twelve black, leathered rolling chairs.

The man sat at the end of the table, "You did the drop I told you to do earlier?"

"No, he was too busy helping me-" Zahmir tries to explain, but Calvin slammed the dice he was fidgeting with, onto the wooden table.

"Ain't nobody tell yo' ass to speak. Ion know why you in here anyway, I didn't call you! Now, go," Calvin demands as Zahmir growls lowly.

"Boy, you must have not learned yo' damn lesson! I said go!" Calvin barked.

Before Zahmir could get himself in a life or death situation, Nahmir held him back on his chest with the back of his hand, "Go bro, I'll be ight," he says quietly.

Zahmir hesitated, but obliged. He didn't want anything happening to his older brother(by two hours, actually), if he came back and Nahmir was injured, he'd beat the colored off Calvin.

Now that Zahmir has left, Calvin spoke, "You make them drops or not?"

"No, bruh," Nahmir looked down before looking Calvin in the eye.

"And why the hell not?" Calvin deeply chuckled. Nahmir frowned, this man has more problems than all of us do. He thought.

"I had to help Zahmir, he was bleeding everywhere," Nahmir explained.

"Helping your brother is more important than my money?" Calvin cut his eyes at Nahmir, picking his dice from the table.

Deep inside, Nahmir despised Calvin. He hated the man with all his dignity. Calvin was the main reason why Nahmir was depressed and Zahmir sychosis.

"Yea-"

"Don't fix your mouth to say that shit. Money is time and time is money. Yo' ass is wastin' that shit right fuckin' now!" Calvin says, glaring at Nahmir. Nahmir stood emotionless.

"See, I thought you were more smarter than yo' dumb ass twin, but I see y'all just the same," Calvin lights a backwoods.

Nahmir stands staring at his stepfather, scenerios going through his mind of different ways to kill and torture him.

"Quit standin' there looking stupid and go make the fuckin' drop. The duffle downstairs, you know where they at."

Nahmir scoffed at him before turning on his heel, walking out the room. He seen Zahmir standing, leaning on the wall just outside the door.

He shooked his head sadly, letting Zahmir follow him downstairs.

Nahmir grabbed the duffle that sat in the basement, surrounded by stoves, fridges and cabinets filled with coke, weed, molly, heroine, pills, etc.

"Man, I hate he make us do this illegal shit. We need real jobs..." Zahmir says as he watches Nahmir look through the duffles, glancing at the tags that wrote the contents and date it needed to be sold. He found todays date and picked it from the floor.

"I know, but it's our only income at the moment and you know this, bruh," Nahmir grabbed a glock from the loaded guns bin and strapped up.

What Nahmir said was true. They were only seventeen about to turn eighteen in a month and Calvin wouldn't let them get legal jobs. The twins were like slaves to Calvin, sadly.

Calvin always made Nahmir sell for him most of the time because he takes in information better and is fluent in spanish(some of his costumers were mexicans and latinos). They've been trained since was thirteen.

Nahmir gently threw his head back, causing his dreads to move from his face, "I'll be back, ight?"

"Bro, be careful!" Zahmir feared everytime Nahmir would go by himself.

"I will," Nahmir says as he left Zahmir downstairs.