DeVante x Tupac x Ginuwine

The Truth (T.Shakur)

Mikayla 1996:

OMG, I can't stay here, I'm going to die if I do. It seems like every time I try to resolve shit, it only gets worse. You should come home looking forward to meet your spouse, instead you're scared shitless because you don't know what could happen to you next. I'm still fucking wondering how I'm still alive, I've been beaten down, he's tried throwing glass at me several times, his bare hands only cause scars on my body that I dare not to show anyone. He pulls onto my hair so hard....I'm still surprised at the fact that I still got hair on my head. The one thing I should be surprised about really is how the fuck none of my friends know. All the excuses I make, they still dumbfounded.

I ran into a telephone box and took out the phone number Tupac gave me. Bare in mind I've only just met him like a week ago and I feel comfortable talking to him. I don't want to tell my friends anything or they would go all ghetto on Robert for beating my ass. But I don't know what difference that would make to how Tupac would react because no man gonna tolerate another man beating on a women.

I dialled his number as my ass was shaking like mad. I wanted him to hurry up and pick up, I was afraid that Robert would find me and see me calling for help form others. I was always a person to tell people what was up but this one, I can't.....I'll be messing with my life if I told anyone about this.

'Hello' A low deep voice came through the phone

'Um hey it's me Mikayla' I was trying hard to sound positive

'You Alright?' He asked as if he could see that I was scared for my life

'Um yeah....yeah I'm fine' I lied

'You sure?' He asked

I sighed 'No, no I'm not fine' I felt a huge knot in my stomach

'What's wrong?'

'I'm scared' I confessed as my head hit the window gently, letting the tear release down my cheek

'Scared of what?'

'Scared if I'll be able to see tomorrow'

'What do you mean?......why are you talking like this?.....what's going on?' He started asking a range of questions

'I don't wanna talk about it'

'Kayla, something is obviously bothering you, keep it all in, it'll properly be too late for me to help you' he told me

'I'm scared to come home- really scared, I don't want to go back' I cried

'Is he beating on you?' He asked

'Why do you think that because I said I don't want to come home' my pitch got louder

'Well What is the Problem then?' He sounded irritated

I didn't say anything, I didn't want to admit that my husband was killing me slowly. I love him so much, he loves me but at the same time, how can he tell me he loves and the bruises he made are haunting me?

'Kayla' he spoke still not giving an answer 'MIKAYLA!'

'Yes' I spoke through my tears

'Answer my question, is he hurting you?' He repeated again

I couldn't not lie, I had to tell him the truth because I'm only hurting myself at the end of the day.

'.....Yes' I finally spoke

'I'm coming to get you?' He said

'No no he's going to kill me' I begged for him not to

'He ain't killing shit, I'll kill his ass!' He sounded really angry 'where are you at the moment?'

'Please Pac' I cried harder

I'm begging for help but once I receive help, I'm turning it away. What's wrong with me man? This whole relationship has really corrupting me, do I like getting her or something because it looks like I do.

'Do you want to FUCKING die or not?' He shouted in the phone

'I'm in a telephone box near the the New York City subway' I told him

'Okay imma be there in ten minutes' he said

And when he said ten minutes, he meant it.

I'm playing with the fucking devil!