Gun crime into your right ear, drugs and violence into your left. - jorja smith.
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omniscient.
Cairo's tall figure stood in front of the mirror in his en-suite bathroom as he used a pair of clippers to line up the front of his hair. Barbering was a skill he'd acquired from his older brother, Bakari. Bakari was twenty five years old and owned a franchise of barber shops and restaurants across London, he was very successful and Cairo looked up to his brother drastically. Cairo's aim in life was to become wealthy the legal way, and to pass his acquired riches down to his children and all the other generations to come.
He placed the clippers down, cleaning up the mess from around his sink before placing the towel that was situated his shoulders in his laundry hamper. He brushed off the hair from his clippers before placing it back in his mirror cabinet.
He analysed himself in the mirror, satisfied with the outcome of his hair. His line-up was more than crisp. He'd also trimmed down his facial hair, defining the way his sideburns connected to his beard.
The smile that made its way to his face as he watched himself displayed his deep dimples and pristine teeth.
He looked down immediately when his phone started ringing, vibrating against the marble of his bathroom's sink. The name 'Pharoah' was displayed on his lock screen, no emojis, no other valid letters; just Pharoah. The frown that made its way to Cairo's face made his change in mood more than evident, this was a side of Cairo Nasir had never seen, this was Cairo behind the 'good-boy' facade.
Cairo accepted the call, before putting his phone on speaker.
"What you saying lil bro?", Pharaoh asked his little brother.
"I'm good," a short and simple reply was what Cairo replied with, he was more than bemused by his brother's uninvited call.
The deep chuckle that came from Pharaoh's throat made Cairo all the more annoyed.
"Say nothing," Pharaoh trailed off, Cairo knew his big brother was about to ask for a favour, "I have a little job for you Cai."
'Cai'. Pharaoh was the only one that ever referred to Cairo as such, the name was reserved for him and him only, that was how much of a deep bond the two shared.
Cairo's ears perked up at the sound of those words. "A job?"he asked, almost rhetorically.
Pharaoh nodded, as if his brother could see him. The older male sat up from the desk chair he was situated in, ready to tell his younger brother the deed that needed to be done.
The words that left Pharaoh's mouth next made Cairo freeze for a moment, but after moments of longitudinal silence Cairo finally came up with his answer.
"...I'll do it."
Words that he'd regret in the future.
The smile that made its way to Pharaoh's face was almost manic, he was satisfied with his brother's decision.
"Safe, little brother."
Actions that'd have consequences, major consequences in the future.
*
It was quarter to twelve, and the time was nearing midnight as Cairo had just finished the job. He'd already discarded the clothes he wore, gasoline and fire were the two things that had turned his garments into no longer existing matter. His black, and faintly creased air forces had been thoroughly cleaned with bleach and he'd placed them in his balcony to properly get rid of the distinct smell of the steriliser. Those were the shoes he wore to ride out, which wasn't a frequent occasion.
Cairo sat on the edge of his bed, his towel thrown over his shoulders with on his Calvin Klein boxers to hide his length appendage. His head was in his hands as he tried to remove the constant reminder of what he'd done from his mind. He reached out to God, 'Lord, forgive me, for I have sinned', Cairo was disappointed in his actions. Once again, he'd allowed his brother to make him do the dirty work, the blood was on his hands and there was truly nothing he could do about it.
Sighing, he got up and trailed his way to his en-suite bathroom to wash away his sins.
Lord forgive him, for he has sinned.
A sinner's plea.
*
Hands you the tool as you question your [brotherhood] How's man like you gonna make me a convict? Level of a felon when I've done nothing wrong Blood on my hands, but I don't know where it's from, oh You got blood on your hands, but you don't know where it's from. - jorja smith.
*
The wap was what he used. A skeng nevertheless, a nine- yes a wap. his bloody shoes leaving footprints on the pavement as he committed the crime. Red bottoms, and I'm not talking Louboutins. Jesus never died for this, so why'd you make him die for this?
Death is always the fate.
A sinner's plea. *
A short chapter to gain an insight into Cairo.
Thoughts on Cairo now?
And feedback on this chapter😔.
A lot of you haven't been voting, so please do. Next chapter will be much longer I promise 😏. Not proofread. 840 words excluding this.
