Fiend (Urban)

✨08| Trust Issues

| Bobby |

"Hey Bobby." Some random girl said walking passed the shop and I stared at her with a blank look.

Her friend looked at me and smiled, I guess trying to gain my attention. The bitch looked like a circus clown with all that colorful shit on her face and in her hair.

"So you just gone act like you don't know me?" She asked stopping to talk to me and I walked away. We ain't have shit to talk about, I ain't even know the bitch.

I opened the door to the shop and walked back in after I got done smoking and went to Nightmare office. I knocked on the door before cracking it open and going in.

Nightmare sat in her chair, rolling herself up a blunt as I closed the door behind me and took a seat. "Why you here? Bitch you told me you was sick."

"I am sick." I said coughing a little to play it off and she laughed.

"Bobby why you here?" She asked again, but this time getting more serious and I sighed.

"You remember my cousin DayDay?" I asked and she nodded her head yeah, motioning for me to continue. "That nigga died." I said trying my best not to laugh. I wasn't laughing because he was dead, I was laughing because the way he died was fucked up. 

"Word?" She asked and I nodded my head, not believing it. "How he die?"

"He was walking down the street eating a pack of Oreos carefree and got hit by a car." I said shrugging and Nightmare fell out laughing, holding her stomach.

"It's not funny man, I lost my muthafucka' cousin over some bullshit."

I missed him, shit I was just with dude three damn days ago and now I gotta burry him in two days. Shit wasn't fair and the way he died was fucked up in my opinion.

Nightmare eventually stopped laughing and went back to what she was doing. She didn't talk much but when she did, she was usually saying some ruthless ass shit that would have you wanting to die.

I stayed in Nightmare office for another minute or a half before leaving and going to set up my booth.

I had took a liking into art when I was about eight years old. I had fucked around and drew on my mama walls, she beat me ass that day. I could still remember that ass whooping like it was hours ago.

Unlike most moms in the hood, mine wasn't living off the government. She had her own career until I was about 14 years old. That's when shit got heavy and my pops had to step in.

My mother and father separated when I was only 6 years old. Papa fell out of love with my mama and fell hard for another bitch.

I had to listen to my mama cry almost every night and that shit broke me. I wanted to hate my father but like my parents always told me.

"Stay out of grown folks business and you won't get hurt."

I lived with that line until his wife said something to me, I never liked the bitch. She was always weird looking to me. Like, she was fucking on her daddy or something.

"Hey, are you ready for me?" My client Amanda asked, standing by the door way and I nodded my head yeah as I shook my thoughts away.