Ain't no hitta like the one I got: part one

BOOK: Ain't no hitta like the one I got: part one
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This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are purely products of the author’s imagination and are only used for fictional purposes. Any actual resemblance to actual persons or places, either living or dead, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Ain’t no hitta like the one I got. Copyright© 2016 by 1shotpublications. All rights reserved. 

The author and publisher have provided this book for your personal use only. This book may not be duplicated in any form whatsoever and you may not make this e-book publicly available in anyway. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

 

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Thanks

I would like to give thanks to my Lord and savior Jesus Christ, through him all things are possible, I thank him for giving me the gift of writing every day, it was been my life jacket in so many points in my life. I would also like to thank you all for purchasing this book, I hope you enjoy.

 

P.s the writing hiatus is over, thank God, more stories to come!

 

 

It’s a hard knock life

Willemena

I tip toed quietly into the kitchen to make myself a bowl of cereal so that my mother and her boyfriend couldn’t hear me. Ever since she met this new nigga, we have been arguing left and right at just about everything, and it feels like she has really been feeling herself, acting extra bossy and shit, I heard that getting good dick was supposed to calm a bitch down but in my mother’s case that shit just made her more stressed out and argumentative. Not that I would know about getting dick like that, I was only talking to this boy Jason in school, but if my mother told it, she swears that since I turned 17 I am fucking everybody, when the truth is, I only kissed about three niggas in my whole life.

The captain crunch cereal I was munching on seemed so fucking loud, I swear my mother could hear that shit from upstairs. I threw my long blondish brown hair is a bun, and hurriedly ate the rest of my cereal so that I could wash out my bowl and go back upstairs. Just as I was turning off the faucet, I heard my mother’s loud mouth.

“Willemena, why the fuck you have to leave the counter all wet every time you wash the dishes? You are supposed to dry that shit off. You know what I am tired of your high yellow ass prancing around here like the world revolves around you. You need to get a job or something and pay some mutherfucking bills around here. You think that since you look dam near white that, mutherfuckers are supposed to bow down to you?”

I looked at my chocolate toned mother, we have the same almond shaped cat eyes except mines was lighter, “Mama, why does it always have to be about color, you are the one that chose my daddy in the first place, you know good and well if he was still alive, you wouldn’t even be talking to me like this?”

“Bitch don’t tell me what I would be doing, see there you go, opening up your mouth again, you know what, pack up your shit and get out since you seem to know so much about what a bitch is thinking.”

Deep inside I was hoping this bitch wasn’t serious. I didn’t really want to call my mother a bitch but she was really acting like one. Like are you kidding me? Where would I really go if she kicked me out? My mother grew up in the system as a child and didn’t know her mother, so I didn’t have any family out of her. My father died and he was a Spanish man that came up in the game but he came to America by himself and I never got to meet his immediate family. He had people that he called family but they were mixed up in the game and I didn’t want to be involved in what he was into because it was what got him killed in the first place. I tried to avoid eye contact with my mother who was standing in the kitchen door way with her arm folded staring at me. T.J my mother’s new man, came down stairs gave her a kiss, smirked at me and picked up a newspaper as he walked by. I looked away and started to leave the kitchen when my mother started up again, “Don’t be rolling your eyes up in this bitch like you pay rent or something and I hope you are going upstairs to pack your bags.”

I ignored her, went upstairs to my room, closed my door and put on my beats ear phones and Bryson Tiller began to croon his lyrics deep into my ear drums, I wish that he could just seep into my soul and take me somewhere calm and comforting, far away from this madness. And that’s exactly when my mother bursts into my room with a garbage bag and started opening up draws and flinging clothes into it. I took off my ear phones and just looked at her dumbfounded, when she threw a pair of jeans and a t shirt at my face to put on, that’s when I sprang into action, “Please momma don’t touch my things, what ever it is that I gotta do, I will.”

“Nah, I am tired of the bad grades, and you walking around here eating up my shit like you put food in the refrigerator, and your fucked up attitude.”

Fed up, I began to shout at her, “This is about papi right? The fact that he is dead and not hitting you off with any more money for me, if he was here, you wouldn’t be doing this.”

I was crying now because I felt warm tears stinging my eyes. Unfazed by my tears, my mother threw the garbage bag full of clothes down the stairs. And she came towards me and grabbed my arms, and we began tousling, as she pushed me and right before I went rolling down the stairs, I caught sight of the picture frames of me and my mother, and father posing in happy pictures when I younger. I was rolling full speed down the stairs and away from the happy images until my body landed abruptly down the small flight of carpeted stairs.

“Willemina I want your ass the fuck out of here!” She shouted as she threw my jacket, and the t shirt and pants from earlier.

I grabbed the items and put them on in a hurry, it was no use in me arguing with her any further. After I was finished dressing, I grabbed my garbage bag of clothes and I left the house. Where the fuck was I going? I had no idea. It was Saturday, so I didn’t have any school or anything, and that made it all the more difficult to know where to go. I was basically a loner in school; yeah I had a few associates here and there but no one that I wanted to open up to about my business. As I slowly continued to walk away, I was somehow wishing that my mother would call out to me, and tell me to come back in the house and that she was only playing, but after I walked about four blocks away all hope on that matter dwindled. I am not going to lie I was scared as fuck, out here in the world by myself, at first I thought about running back home and begging and crying to my mother to let me back in, but I guess it was my pride that kept me walking forward and clutching my bag. I saw guys on the corner shooting dice, old ladies pushing their shopping carts, cars speeding this way and that in the street, and here I was walking confused with no set destination. I saw a grocery store and remembered that I had fifty cents, so I went in and bought myself a blow pop, fuck it, minds well enjoy myself, I didn’t know who to call at the pay phone with the fifty cents anyway. After sucking on my lollipop and walking for about ten blocks, I came upon a park that I know a lot of the kids at my school hang out. I went in there. New York always had something on, it was still chilly at the end of February and you would think it was summer the way the park was jumping. You had the Spanish kids playing hand ball, the black boys on the basketball court, and the girls sitting on the benches giggling and gossiping, I sat on one of the empty ones, and put my bag under the benches so that no one could see it. A group of walked by as I popped my bubble gum.

“Aye yo, cutie what’s good?” One of the men called out.

I rolled my eyes and looked away; they took the hint and walked off. Pedophile ass niggas, they looked about 45 and shit. As I directed my attention back towards the basketball court, the wind almost got stuck in my throat as I saw one of the niggas I was crushing on in school playing ball, I was interested in the game now, I even moved my body fully around to watch what he was doing. He was dunking and slamming on the basketball, His lanky 6’3 frame was even hanging from the rim at one point. Yeah he was definitely that nigga, the one that I kissed before; Jason, I blushed, to myself. Just then some girls approached me, I knew two of them from Kennedy high school, the school I went to, their names were Shawna and Daphney. I didn’t like Shawna and she didn’t like me either.

“Aye, Willemena, who are you looking at over there? It better not be my nigga Jason.” The one I didn’t like said.

“Bitch it’s none of your business, but matter of fact it is Jason, now what?” I said getting off of the bench. Little did this bitch know, with the type of day I had today, that I was ready to knock her fucking head off.

“Bitch why you getting down like you are about to do something, with your half breed ass, looking like a poor white bitch posted up on a bench by herself like a nigga and she ain’t got no friends, poor baby.” Shawna taunted.

That’s it, I heard my mother in her racist thing she said and I was tired of being teased and humiliated, I lunged forward, and punched that bitch on her nose and when she fell back I jumped on her. She was clawing at my face, but I was giving her punch after punch, trying to wrench that bitch features, every jab I gave was in conjunction with all of the names that I ever been called, this bitch right here was going to pay for everybody. I felt somebody full on my hair, but I didn’t care, as long as I was locked in on this bitch with her big mouth I was good. Finally I felt big strong hands pull me back; they had to be a man’s hands, because no bitch was that strong. When I looked up and was pulled onto my feet, the guys from on the court was around us, Jason was the one that pulled me back, “Whoa, Tyson, calm down”, he smirked at me, “You good?”

“Yeah”, I said looking over at Shawna, she was the one that looked fucked up, that nigga should have been asking her that, I thought to myself as I fixed my bun back on top of my head.

“Let me walk you home Shorty, I don’t wanted you getting into no more fights”, He grinned as he picked up his ball. I smiled at him and everybody’s voice just went away as I stared at his mocha skin, dark wavy, tapered up fro, his long eyelashes, and full lips. He turned around and gave his niggas a dap, and I got my bag from underneath the bench and we walked away from the chaos and Shawna yelling whatever girls she was yelling. I already beat that bitch down so I really had nothing else to say, I don’t even know how the hell she was talking with her lip busted up.

When we reached the end of the park, he tried to make that right going into the direction of my house, but instead I made that left.

“Willemina, don’t you live over by Stuyvesant?”

“Yeah, I sad trying to think up a lie, but I am going to my grad mother’s house for the weekend and she lives up this way, that’s why I got this bag of clothes with me, I said lying my ass off. What Grandma? A bitch wish, I thought to myself.

“Ok cool, Gimme your bag so I can hold it.”

He took it and threw it over his shoulder and with his other hand he came up close to me, and slid his thumb down what I think was a scratch on my face. I winced. We were so close that I thought we were about to kiss, he bend down and kissed my nose instead.

“You have to stop fighting; you are going to mess up that pretty face of yours.”

I didn’t say anything as we been in walk in silence, the sun was starting to set and we were walking so long that the buildings went from looking fucked up, to more descent.

“Dam Willemena, why didn’t we just take the bus, your grandmother live this far?”

Yeah, but I really needed to just clear my head and I like walking, we aren’t that far away. I began to inspect the buildings to see which one looked pretty and safe so I could walk in and acted like I knew someone that lived there, I knew that some of these doors be locked and of course I don’t have any keys so I would have to play it off. I saw a nice burgundy brick three story building straight ahead and it looked warm and inviting, the building number said 1758 on the top in bright white letters. I was 17 and my height was 5’8 so fuck it, I guess this would be where my imaginary grandmother lived. I saw an old lady walking towards the door with a shopping cart, “There she goes!” I quickly grabbed my bag from Jason, gave him a kiss on his cheek, and I jogged across the street to help the stranger old lady, “Thank you Jason” I yelled back. The lady had kind grey eyes, as I held the door open for her and helped her with her cart, and I closed the door quickly behind us. I helped her up a flight of stairs, and then I walked up the next flight, like I knew where I was going, after I heard her door slam, I sat down on the stairs, put my hoody on and leaned back as I hugged my bag, I was tired, hungry and sleepy as fuck from all of that walking. Thank God the building was warm and clean. I guess I would have to sleep here tonight. It was quiet and not a lot of activity going on, so in the silence, I began to think about what happened earlier with my mother, I still couldn’t fathom how one small argument got so out of control and resulted in me getting kicked out, life is crazy like that, I thought to myself as I felt warm tears stream from my eyes, down my cheeked on to my lips and left a salt taste into my mouth, I began to let it out and I cried so violently that my shoulders shook. Why couldn’t I just have someone to love me, why did God have to take my papa away? I was so confused with my life right now. When I leave these stairs in the morning, where was I even going? What was I going to eat? Life was so fucking up right now that I continued sobbing until I heard the door slam downstairs and I heard a bunch of niggas talking, I put my hand over my mouth, so that they couldn’t hear me, all I needed right now was for someone to try to hurt and attack me. That would make things even worst.

“Yo my nigga, we gonna have to spark up right here cause I can’t smoke in my grandmother’s fucking house.”

“Dam son,” another voice said, “If I would have known that shit, we could just went over to my shorty house.”

“Which one? Trina, the bitch with the dirty house, my nigga, this fucking hallway is much cleaner than that bitch whole house.”

About four niggas laughed in all. I tried to sit very still as I wiped my tears and held my bag tightly.

Before I knew it the smell of weed, found its way up stairs, and caused me to feel light head and mixed in with the hunger I was already feeling, I felt worst.

“So what’s up with that chick number you got last week,” one of the guys said.

“I am trying to see what’s up with shorty later.”

“Word, see if she got any friends.”

“I got you my nigga.”

After a while the voices became comforting and I started to drift off to sleep, and the bag that I was holding slipped out of my hand and rolled down the stairs and my eyes shot open in fear.

BOOK: Ain't no hitta like the one I got: part one
7.19Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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