" That's not fair and you know it," He gritted, " You're not the only one who blames themselves for his death."
" He's dead because of me, Exodus!" I yelled before I could even stop myself, " It should've been me laying in the fucking casket, not...
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Now Playing.. Check, by Meek Mill ... HARLEM, NEW YORK-> BROOKLYN, NEW YORK
" LOOKIN ALL THE YOUNG NIGGAS FLEXIN FROM THE BOTTOM!" Meek' Mill's voice boomed through the speaker, adding fuel to the unleashed pent up fury from that night.
The dimly lit boxing gym echoed with rhythmic thuds of leather against heavy bags as my fists, wrapped tightly in layers of tape and thin gauze, my grunts filling the room as I continually throw punch after punch at the bag.
I didn't stop, my body trickling with sweat as I gradually increased my aggressiveness, moving my head every now and then as I gritted my teeth.
Pissed off wasn't even the fucking word to describe how I felt. I was still replaying the scenes from that night - the accusations, the bitter truths, and the unresolved pain. The art gallery's air, thick with tension, seemed to linger around me, pushing me to unravel all of my fucking rage on the heavy bag. My every jab and hook now carrying the emotional weight of a friendship fractured and a past revisited.
The gritty atmosphere mirrored my wrath, ignited by fire that rose to flames once Selah opened her mouth, reopening wounds left untouched since Joey's death.
I was mad at her for leaving, I was mad at joey fa not staying here on dis earth, and I was mad at this fucked up world. Not only did those niggas steal my best friend, but they stole my brother.
The person who knew me like the back of their hand, The person who I could talk to about everything and not be fucking judged fa crying like a bitch. The person who was my fucking inspiration to do better and to be something in life. The person who told me to follow my dreams regardless of what people had to say.
I lost all of that.
Including Selah.
Selah was careless, fucking stubborn, and a pain in my damn ass. She had no fucking understanding of how her actions left a mark on me, how her acting as if she wasn't pretending to be someone she wasn't aggravated me to no end.
I was still hurting, I was still affected by her absence from my life. And fa her to say she should've died? For her to look me in the eyes and say those fucking words like I wouldn't lose my fucking mind if anything happened to her?
I shouldn't care but I do. I shouldn't be upset with her, but I am. I've been fucking upset with Selah this entire fucking time and I still can't let it go.
" Fuck!" I screamed, punching the damn bag over and over again until my body grew numb.
" Mm. Look like you carryin' more than just fists in them gloves, Killa." a gravelly voice chuckled in amusement, cutting through the rhymthic thuds and catching me off guard.
