"I hurt on the daily. Be my peace, I'm tired of the pain."
*
If you want a love story about two happy people thuggin', this ain't that.
SHORT story based on Youngboy Never Broke Again's verse in: On Me
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"Fuck the police, I up this bitch and Imma let it blow."
He left Yvette to sleep in his bed, locking the door from the inside of the room. Before he shut the door, he went back to the side of the bed. Yvette hadn't been laying in the bed more than five minutes, and she had drifted off to sleep. He leaned down and shook her shoulder gently.
"Aye." He mumbled. No answer. "Vette." He called, sitting on the edge of the bed. He kissed her cheek and her eyes shot open, making him jump back.
"What?" She asked, annoyed.
"I'm finna go." He told her, walking to his closet. She shot up quickly.
"Where? Ow!" She hissed in pain, leaning against the headboard.
"Handle some business." He said, tucking his .45 in his jeans and pulling his shirt down.
"You have to take that?" She asked, playing with a loose thread on the bedsheet in anxiousness.
"Yeah. I'll be alright." He gave her a nod and grabbed a pocket army knife from his shelf.
"Um, the pharmacy called your phone while you were in the bathroom. They said your prescription is filled." She blurted.
"Oou, you did some dangerous shit answerin' my shit." He said, avoiding the subject.
"Thought it was mine." She shrugged, tapping on her red iPhone 8+.
"Mm mm mm." He shook his head, walking over to her. He grabbed his phone from the dresser and slipped it in his pocket. "Mane, stop looking like that and gimme a kiss." She pouted, but gave him a kiss. In an attempt to get him to stay, she deepened the kiss. He pulled away, smirk on his face.
"I told you, imma be straight." He said, standing up. "Don't come out, I got some shit in that drawer you can eat on 'til I get back." She nodded, laying back in the bed. He went out the door and shut it softly.
On his way out, he looked at the message again. He smirked to himself, putting the phone back in his back pocket.
He wondered why people chose to fuck with him. Maybe that believed it got them cool points, because people stepping up to him and bragging about it was rare. Well, that's because they don't live long enough afterwards. He didn't think anyone would fuck with him after the police incident anyways.
"AYE 12!" A frantic voice yelled at the approaching of the sirens. Kentrell held Boozilla's killer at gunpoint. The man was on his knees, Kentrell had his arm outstretched, gun pointed at his forehead.
"WE GOTTA GO!" Yelled Ben in a panic, he had shot someone in the area and the body had not been disposed of yet. Kentrell looked up at Ben, then back at the man he held captive.
"You cant shoot him, dude! The police are literally down the street!"
"Fuck that." Kentrell mumbled softly, sending a shot to the man's head, instantly feeling better.
He shook his head, laughing a little at the fact that he was never caught. Slipping on the gloves he carried out, he was on his way.
He got in the steamer that was parked on the side of the house. It was camouflaged to the road by a large pine tree that sat in the small, dusty yard. Maneuvering the car out of the yard, he sped down the street, tunnel vision to his destination. He wasn't too far from it.
Seeing that he was in walking distance, Kentrell parks the car on the side of an abandoned house down the street. He held a mean expression as he observed the street.
It was too crowded to use a gun, he left his silencer. He felt for his knife in his pocket. He would have to stab in just the right spot for him not to yell and cause attention. He didn't know how he was gonna get rid of his body, either. He opened his dashboard, looking for his screwdriver to break in.
He began to move stuff out of the way and reached for the matches and played with the box, then spotted the keychain flashlight/strobe light. It was like a lightbulb popped over his head as he grabbed the light and the screwdriver. He got out of the car, maintaining his low profile.
Head hanging down, he walked to the house in the middle of the street. It was just like all the crumbling houses on the street. He slips into the backyard, making sure none of the neighborhood kids or nosy neighbors see him.
He pulled on the knob and it swung open. Music blared through the empty living room as Kentrell stepped into the kitchen. "How stupid can you be?" He mumbled, stepping in.
"Even betta." He mumbled, looking at the gas stove as he walked over to it. There was a pot on the stove, holding cooking oil.
He quietly cut on the stove full blast, watching the blue flame dance for a second before putting the pot in place. He grabbed the gallon of cooking oil that sat on the counter. Filling the pot almost to the top, he screwed the cap back on.
He opened the freezer and grabbed anything to fry, dumping it in the vat of grease. Taking out a rolled blunt, he lit it and blew the smoke carelessly. He watched as the flame grew exponentially when the grease boiled over and the fire alarm sounded.
"The fuck?" He heard the man yell from upstairs. Pulling out the small flashlight, Kentrell cut it on and watched the strobe light go.
How you gone be a G and got epilepsy? He thought to himself, smirking. As soon as the footsteps neared, Kentrell stepped in the doorway shining the light in his face. He smirked as the dude's eyes rolled back in his head. He started shaking, falling to the ground.
Kentrell shook his head as he backed towards the door. Flames licked up the wall as Ken went out of the door. When Ken made it back to the steamer, an explosion occurred at the house. He left at a normal speed, not raising suspicion.
