My Works #16 //.
"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, but in this case it just may kill you."
Kielce is ready to seal the door to his past closed while Amos is ready to open the door to his future. Coming from the same place, they're both stri...
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀A LOUD THUMP against the curtain hidden window. Amos turned in the position he laid in across the bed. His eyes fluttered open slowly, coming face to face with the painted wall. His dome throbbed with a headache as he felt an nauseous feeling rise in his stomach from the nightmare he'd just experienced. Every other night he waken from visions of seeing the actual shooting take place, though he didn't. This time however, he was the one getting shot. He pulled his weight up and pinched the inner corner of his eyes. He exhaled a deep breath and looked around the room, staring off into the distance at the digital clock that read one fifteen in the afternoon.
He'd been sleeping late while Kielce and Melani worked since he'd been here the past three weeks. Today, he wanted that to change. Though they didn't mind, understanding his circumstance, he wasn't trying to be living off them. He still had dirty money he could blow but not being acquainted with the outside for some time now, he wasn't spending it on anything. He rose from the bed and went over to the dresser, pulling the top one out towards himself. He rumbled through his few underwear and socks, finding a particular sock. He fished inside it and pulled out a wad of cash, licking his thumb. He counted a few hundreds out of the stack and smacked it against the top of the dresser.
He twisted his durag flap with his fingers and tucked it beneath the strap. He pulled off his shirt and threw it to the side on a chair that held all his dirty clothes that began to pile up. He pulled the closet doors open and snatched an outfit off the hangers. He grabbed a pair of boxers and went to the bathroom to shower and so on. He'd got dressed in the pair of polo jeans, button up Hilfiger red,blue, and white shirt and some Timberlands- not bothering to customize them. He stared himself down in the mirror, tucking his lips which made his dimples sink into his caramel glazed skin. His ears gleamed from the diamond studs as he brushed his waves downward towards his face. He adverted his head from either side, watching his reflection.
Amos ends up in the kitchen, scooping grits into his spoon and dropping it into his mouth. He'd microwave the breakfast that was prepared hours earlier-grits, eggs and sausage links. He quickened his chewing, finished the rest of his food, then washed his plate and the few dishes that had piled up. That was one of the few ways he pitched in around the house. He left out the house through the garage and tapped in the code to let it back down behind himself as he started walking down the street. He'd grabbed a jacket before leaving out since the day held a cool breeze. His fingertips would brush against the money, the roughness scratching his skin. He'd needed fresh air, a quick walk through city to see if he'd find a new attraction spot or even a hire sign.
His mind was easing from his former lifestyle, his best friend's life being taken humbling him to get an average job. Greed wouldn't lead him anywhere better than where Latrell and Gyro was. Though that boggled in his mind, the lust of spending and having cash without a second thought lured him to stick to the streets. He lubricated his full lips with his wet, pink tongue slyly. His hooded eyes adverted from each side of Atlanta streets, soon reaching near the downtown area of Bankhead. Cyclists rode past him as sport cars sped along the street way. Loud exhausts took quick starts. It'd drowned out other sounds until the car was far into the distance, allowing the other noises of the city to be heard by his eardrums.
