𝐀𝐩𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐈𝐈

2-06

BASHAR
May 9th, 2020

"Niggas saying they outside...Send the addy we gon' slide."

Once, Eva and I had this conversation. Back when we first started speaking, she was always asking questions. When she'd asked what performing was like, I didn't really know how to answer. I deflected but she kept asking. So, I took the time to sit and actually think about it.

"Floss nigga, hot boy, you ain't in the field, you a top boy."

It was euphoric.

"WE GON' TIE THAT BOY UP LIKE HE A COWBOY!!!"

The energy was unmatched.

"I'm the one they envy, like Calboy."

I loved it.

I hated it.

Two weeks after Jazmin woke up, I'd already performed in three different cities. I'd missed a lot while she was in her coma. The world hadn't stopped and now, I was playing catch up.

Back then, I admitted to Eva that performing demanded a lot of energy. Today, it felt like it demanded a piece of my soul. It felt wrong to dance on this stage while I knew Jazmin was still in the hospital. That was my sister and I should be there with her.

Yet, this was also freeing. Though not in the traditional sense, I was a performer through and through. Rapping made a nigga feel on top of the world. It was a rush I'd never find in smoking, drinking, or anything else.

To hate something you loved was a crazy experience.

As I thought back to Eva, I compared two of the most important pieces of my life. I loved her. Lately, I wanted to hate her. It would be so easy, but I kept waiting for us to be okay.

Still, I was confused by everything she did, the words she said, and the ones she didn't. What went through her head when she decided to pull away from me? Why didn't she answer me when I called?

On that stage, I was on one side of the world and she on another.

So lost in my head, I didn't realize what was happening until it was too late.

A scream on my left made me pause, my head turning to see what was going on. "Shut this shit down, shut it down!"

"Yo what the fuck?" I mumbled, forgetting the mic in my hand. The gun currently pointed at my chest cocked, "TURN THIS SHIT OFF!!"

The man in front of me fired two shots into the ceiling and that was all it took for panic to rise.

Absently, I noticed the crowd running towards all the exits. Before I knew it, only I and the ones on stage with me were left.

Behind me, I knew many guns were aimed at the man in front of me. He was tall, the ski-mask on his face making him look more dangerous than he already was.

A part of me wanted to pull out my own gun and end his life right here. Despite my growing anger, I knew how stupid that would be. I'd be dead before I even reached for the gun.

The security on both my sides and behind me couldn't do a single thing either.

"Fuck do you want?"

"Ayo Bashar shut the fuck up," one of the men on my side shouted. I ignored him, "You either gon' kill me or get that gun off my fucking chest cause I know you ain't trying to rob me. You not trying to rob me while I'm surrounded by all this security, are you? You not that stupid, right?"

Provoking him probably wasn't my smartest idea but if I was going to die anyway, it didn't matter much.

He grew angry, shaking in rage but still, he'd yet to say anything. That was concerning. Grandma was the one who taught me that a quiet man was a dangerous man.