I Do. (August Alsina)

I Do, 29

"I didn't mean fa' allat ta happen. I was on some shit, I'm sawry." He begged, tears falling from his eyes on to my face.

We were still in our current position. Him on top of me, pinning my hands above my head.

"Get off me!" I screamed. At this point flashbacks were invading my mind. Making me feel worthless, helpless, scared, and traumatized all over again.

He muffled my loud sobs by covering my mouth with his hands. When he did that, it's like my body went into overdrive.

I couldn't breathe.

I was zoning out.

The one thing I never thought I was going to have to do was relive and revisit such a traumatic event that happened in my life.

"Get off me!" I screamed, punchin' his square in the nose. As the blood rushed out his nose, I ran toward the door, not caring that I was only in my undergarments. I ran to the livin' room befo' I was thrown on the couch. I screamed loud, hopin' the people walkin' by would hear my loud screams.

"I got cha' na'." I raise my fist to throw more punches. He grabs both my wrists with his left hand, while the right hand was slowly makin' me unconscious.

I feel liquid runnin' down ma' face to ma' neck, covering ma' chest. "Please." I said, chokin' on my own blood."

August Alsina.

"Say good morning." Christian asked, makin me laugh.

Dis lil boy was funny as hell. Since we got hea ta Coney Island, he been askin me ta say certain shit ta see if he could imitate the way I say it.

"Good mawnin." I smiled.

"That's hard. I want a different one. Say happy birthday."

"Hap–" I got cut off by ma phone ringin. I take it off the table and answa it. "Yoo, wazzam?"

"Aye bitch whea ma nephew at?"

"Watch ya mouth, nig–" I stare up at Christian who was starin hard at me. "Man, just watch ya mouth. He right hea."

"Put him onna phone, bitch."

I clenched ma jaw, hand in the phone ova ta Christian. I ain got no time fa his punk ass.

I sat back eatin ma hamburger befo ma body got ya feelin weird. Sumn ain right and I'ca feel dat shit in ma stomach. I had lost ma appetite and whateva had ma mental fucked up wa fuckin me up.

"AugDog, my uncle want you." I nodded and took the phone out his hand.

"Wazzam?"

"Whea Sarah at? She ain wanna come?" He asked.

"Nah." I shook ma head, tryna shake dis uncomfortably ass feelin I was feelin. "Are, ima hit ya line lata. I gotta check on Sarah."

"Aight, woe."

Afta I hung up, I dialed Sarah's number.

"Aye, lil man, we gotta get ta da house, ask the waitress fa a ta go box." I said as ha phone went ta ha voicemail.

He nodded and left me sitting inna booth callin Sarah again. She usually always answa ha phone. Fuck goin on?