a girl drenched in emotional scars and a rapper tangled by toxic demons are forced to face their legal issues together. Little did they know of the sparks they'd electrify within each other.
warning: profanity/drugs/death referrences
highest rank: #...
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|JASMINE SANDERS|
I was on the edge of a cliff that with particles of collapsing rocks. And when it was ready to break, it would send me hundreds of feet below.
Instead of laughing or doing something stupid with my time like most nineteen year olds, I was working a dreadful job. I was preparing for a fucking wedding I didn't want to be in. I was putting up with a dumb, unloving aunt.
Each tug the hairstylist made on my hair made it harder to hold back tears. Yet, somehow I did.
Every pluck the makeup artist made on my eyebrows made me angrier at the world.
I was forced me into a tight dress that felt like plastic. They told me to slip me into six inch hells, not heels that made it hard to feel my numbing feet.
They lined all of us models up behind the curtains. The music played. It was time for the show.
One after another, the models in front of me were called out onto the stage. By this time, my head was as heavy as a rock. I felt like I was forgetting how to breath.
Jasmine Sanders up next.They rattled in my ears. Shaking me back to consciousness.
I heavily lifted one foot in front of the other. Music rung loudly in my ears with inaudible lyrics. The crowd blurred in front of my sight.
Scarcely, I made it back behind the curtains. But, the show wasn't over yet.
Us models went back for another round of hair abuse and makeup harassment. Before I knew it, we were back on stage.
Turn around... You may have made it last time but, this time you might not be so lucky. I feel your legs gettings weak. Life is catching up tp you now and I need you to run.
I was barely making it across the runway that time. My legs were wobbling. The crowd's voices became louder and louder. And I lost all control at the sight of my aunt. Her face, in the mounds of strangers faces. A face, I didn't want to see. A face, that gave me flashbacks of our tiring argument.
My high heels collapsed beneath my feet. I fell onto the ground with a loud thump. The crowd gasped.
I give up. I dont give a fuck about the gossipers who will be having their bills paid mentioning my name. I hate this. I hate my life. I hate it so much, im doing something about it.
I walked off stage but behind the curtains, I ran. I ran until my legs failed me. I found myself in the bathroom, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Sis," Nicki entered the bathroom,frowning, "You alright? Because what happened there was horrible!"
"Im--sorry--but I--can't do--this--this anymore!" I wailed.
"Sweety I don't want you to cry," She cooed, keeping her distance from me. Nicki probably knew I was about to explode, "If you need a break for a week a month or all your life, it's okay."
"Modeling--isn't meant for me--" I wasn't sure what Nicki told me afterwards. My sobs became too loud to hear anything. My sobs became all that I could see or feel or hear or smell. After a while, she left me alone.
I don't wanna do this anymore. I don't wanna do this anymore. I don't wanna do this anymore.
LIL UZI VERT'S POV
I waited as time ticked by. She still hadnt came out from her fashion show. After an hour of waiting for her, outside the fashion show, crazy thoughts filled my head.
What if she found out you're still on drugs? What if she found out and hates you now? What if---she's with Gavin.
I couldn't take it anymore. I walked into Seven Twenty and spotted Nicki.
"Nicki where is she?"
Her before smiling face darkened, "Inside the bathroom, it's horrible."
Breaking out in sweats, I rushed into the bathroom. There, Jasmine was, sobbing like never before in the shabby corner with a window above her head. When I saw the tears rolling down her cheeks and the sunlight hit her glistening skin, It made me want to pink her up. And kiss her all over her face and tell her everything was gonna be alright.
"Jassie, what's wrong?" I bent down next to her, stroking her long wavy hair. She looked up at me, the pupils of her grey eyes dilated.
"I'm so over this shit, Uzi. Im just sick and tired of being fucking sick and tired." She fumed, her face turned pink with anger.
I wiped the tears off her face before pulling her in closer to my chest. I could feel her steady heartbeat match with mine. I felt her cool breaths land against my skin.
"What happened?"
"Life--life just hit me---i've been stuck in this stupid modeling industry since thirteen trying to make my aunt happy. Trying to make her proud. But, she'll never be proud. All I've ever wanted was for her to love me! I just wanted her to say, 'i'm proud of what you've done.' Thats why Im not a beatmaker. That's why I model instead--nevermind even if I was a beatmaker--I wouldn't even get signed." She mummemerd into my chest, sending a tickling sensation all over.
I was taken aback by everything she had told me. It made me realize I didn't know to much about her. Let alone her problems. She didn't know mine but, that was only because I couldn't tell her. It would ruin everything for us. I pushed her off, wanting to see her face. It gave me smile. She still looks pretty, even when she cries.
"This is not a smiling matter, Uzi."
I thought of Carti and how he was always looking for new beatmakers. And how maybe just maybe, he would give Jasmine a chance. She would be a little bit more happier. I would get to see her smile a little bit more.
"Yes, it is because, Playboi Carti is going to listen to your music and he's going to love it!"
For a quick flash, there was a glint of hope that passed over her face. It all faded away as she turned her head away from me.
"We'll see. In a perfect world maybe."
"Let me take you to my place and we can talk about it." She turned back to me, nodding slowly.
