Brooklyn Chronicles: Save our Sons and Daughters

Chapter Two

The morning weather consisted of cold winds and bright sunshine. In an abandoned home, in Brooklyn, a dark basement was filled with five bodies which kept the room close to room temperature. Tank rubbed the sleep off his eyes and straightened his creased wife beater stained in dry blood and food stains. Tank stood in the darkness watching his shadow outlined on the stained concrete walls.

He walked to the mirror checking his latest tattoo of a lion’s head on his back through the mirror. He tensed running his finger tips over the layer of bruised skin. The pain felt so good but yet so deadly. He ran his hands over his cleanly shaven head and chin strap with side burns.

His jaw twitched as he stretched his sore body from the concrete floor. He had sacrificed the comfort of the broken and stolen mattress to save the family’s youngest, Zipporah from sharing a bed with Blue who couldn’t keep still in his sleep. Until today Blue was still talking and sniffing in his sleep, Tank spat looking at him tired of his childish ways.

He moved from his position on the floor throwing the blanket to one side. He grabbed his toothbrush carelessly left in a cup full of pens and pencils. He dipped it in the water and the toothpaste he had stolen from the store.

His mouth parted following the brushing of his teeth, he held his toothbrush at an angle that brushed the back of his teeth, the front and the sides. He scrubbed his tongue and spat the remains in a separate bucket. He gunned down the bottle of water and swished the liquid for a moment until it was spat in the same bucket.

He gulped a gallon of the bottle of water and placed it down, if he had checked to see who was sleeping, he would have realised that Santanna had already left the house without being noticed.

Tank slipped on his black t-shirt, a wrinkled navy blue sweatshirt, navy blue vintage Adidas trackpants that hung low with his boxers showing and a pair of what used to be Timberlands. He took his set of large headphones with him as he left the house through the window making it outside. 

The cold wind slashed and pierced his face. His eyes squinted in response and he jumped over the  wall and walked towards the end of the block stopping by the brick wall the streets would always find him by.

The wall was covered in graffiti and urban art from generations of youths and notorious faces, it marked a territory. Tank sat on it watching the faces of cars driving by, they avoided eye contact at all costs. Tank wasn’t hard to recognise or miss, especially with his signature small silver hoop earring, his worn out bucket hat and those Timberlands. He revealed a gold tooth cursing the taxi driver he had assaulted last week as he drove past.

The streets of Brooklyn were disturbed in the morning as Tank began his morning routine which consisted of a roll of cannabis and loud music blasting from his headphones as Notorious B.I.G - Everyday Struggle filled his ears.

“I don’t wanna live no mo’ 

Sometimes I hear death knocking on my front door

I’m living everyday like a hustle

Another drug to juggle, another day struggle”

Tank sang taking a long draw. The younger children walking to school ran crossing the roads the moment they saw him. They watched him with fear written all over their faces. Tank pulled a face laughing as they ran for their lives thinking he would come after them.

 “Sup T.” A young school kid who was supposed to be on his way to school slid his backpack and threw it carelessly to the ground. He sat on the wall with Tank taking his draw from his hand. “Sup Lil’ man.” 

“You know the usual, my ma be forcing me to go to school.” The young boy sulked.

“I remember I was just like you, smoking blunts with my crew, flipping oldies 62’s ‘cause G-E-D was it B-I-G, I got P-A-I-D. That’s why my mom hates.” Tank added singing along to his boom box.