It rang twice, then went to voicemail.
I laughed dryly once I heard that beep.
“I never thought you would be a pussy ass nigga!” I said before I hung up.
All my niggas in Cali were acting weird like Kronic and Bully went back and told niggas to ice me out.
That shit made my blood boil.
Cause when niggas were beefing, homeless, broke, hungry, needed a place to sleep, or a stepper beside them, I never switched up, I stuck to the code and held my niggas down.
But now, all of a sudden, niggas have morals and shit.
Them niggas were acting like I was the crazy one when I was standing on principle!
I tossed my burner on the bed and started pacing the room again while twisting one of my locs. A nigga thoughts were all over the place.
One second, I was angry at Islah.
Next second, I was pissed at myself for ever getting caught up.
Then I was mad at my own niggas.
My final thought, and the one that was about to send me over the edge, was about that fuck nigga Love and how he felt like he had the upper hand.
That shit was eating away at me slowly.
I walked over to the small motel sink and splashed cold water on my face before looking up into the mirror.
I looked fucked up.
Eyes low.
Locs unkempt.
Stressed sitting all over my face.
I hardly recognized myself.
But none of this shit would have happened if Islah had just listened to me instead of running away to Atlanta, acting like seven years ain’t mean shit.
I balled my hands up on the sink.
“Nah,” I muttered to myself. “She still loves me… She gotta still love me.”
She had to…
I was her first love, and her first heartbreak, and I know that for a fact. Bitches just don’t forget a pain like that.
That nigga Love didn’t know her like I know her. That nigga can’t make the feeling of me go away in her the way he thinks he can.
Love was just a fucking ex, a rebound nigga who thinks that putting a ring on her finger is gonna make her forget the nigga she really wanted.
My burner rang on the bed and snapped me outta my thoughts. I walked over to get it, looked at the screen, and saw that it was Bully.
“Bout time you picked the fuck up,” I said as I answered the call.
“Nigga, you ain’t dead yet?”
