Taking Chantzes

Shellz and Dice

Sedric "Shellz" Johnson

When I first got that call that my bestfriend was dead my whole world stopped. How could this happen. Chantel was one of the best around. When she moved she made sure everything was at her hands. Chantel "Dice" was the female version of me. She ran shit better than niggas could. She was pushing more whiter then Snow Whites Disney ass. She was my ace, my manz, my Bonnie, she was the thuralest female I ran across. My mind was fucked up once I found this shit out. I had someone looking for her for years and when my dude Chest finally reported back to me on her whereabouts I couldn't stop thinking a about her. I just knew I had to do everything on my power to make shit right between us. I didn't realized what I had years ago. I never thought I would fuck up that way again. Never should have let my pride get in the way again. It hurt me cuz I was suppose to look out for her. I was suppose to protect her and love her like she loved me, but I didn't. Since she's been gone I felt as a piece of me left with her. The person I changed into wasn't the person I was suppose to turn out to be but once you lose the two people in your world you loved with everything in you shit was and would never be the same.

I always knew no one could replace her and even when I thought I wanted to settle down with Shonni I just couldn't. In all honesty that's not where I wanted to be. I knew in my heart she would never compare to her. She was her own person but I knew deep down I always compared her. She will never be Chantal. She was irreplaceable and since I fucked up these were the demons I had to live with.

I couldn't get the image of her coke bottle body 5'5 frame out my head. That long black wavy hair that rested down her back touching her ass was something I always loved about her. Chantel's caramel complexion was flawless the beauty mark above her lip and those slanted hazel eyes iced it off. She had men falling at her feet. Women felt were jealous and insecure when she came around. She was a bad bitch but deadly.

When I first met Chantel she was living on the streets. Her mother was a heroin addict. Messing with any and everyone to get her next fix. She never wanted Chantel. She thought as her as a burden that she could never get rid of. Chantel never knew her father I don't even think her mother did real shit. Her mother would leave her at home weeks at a time with nothing and when she did come home she would bring strange men with her. She would make Chantel stand there while men got off and play with themselves with sex toys so her mother could pay for her next high. Chantel was nothing but profit to her and she made sure she used her the best way she could. I know some sick shit, right. I first met her when I was on the block, Me and some niggas was rolling dice outside. Gambling was my shit and I always made a quick dollar off it. Taking niggas money was something that was easy to me. At this time I was a small time drug dealer just trying to get on my feet like every other niggas standing on this ave. I was trying to make it and if that meant this is what I had to do this was the shit I was gonna get into at the moment .

On everything I think that's the first time I really noticed her. I guess it's true you attract niggas on your worst day and that's the day you see the most muthafuckers. I remember like that shit was yesterday. I seen someone from the corner of my eye coming my way. This random girl came running down the street with nothing on but a long dingy white tee, one sock on, and her hair was everywhere. It looked as if she was in a fight. Her face was red and swollen as if she was crying for hours. Shit was a sad sight but nothing new in the hood. It was daily that you see the craziest shit people do. I couldn't put my foot on it, but something about her caught my attention just didn't know what.

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Chantel Evans

My life have been fucked since I came into this world. My mother left me in this dirty ass house for weeks at a time with no food, no heat/air, and this was suppose to be my pot to piss in? . There was never anything to eat here. The stamps my mother did get from the system she sold to get cash for her next high. I don't even remember the last time food filled the cabinets or refrigerator. The little stuff that was bought in here left out the minute it hit the infested storage space. Roaches and mice ran freely as if this was there domain and I was their intruder. This living space was beyond fit for humane habitat but this is all I had that separated me from the streets. So complaining was out of the question for me. I was grateful but why did this have to be me? I don't think I could ever remember being happy with my mother.