I Told You, It Raines

Jermaine: Push Start

Age: 17

"Jay, I need for you to break it off with her. She's my daughter and I know what's best for her," Randall scolded holding me by my neck.

"Sir, I love her. It's not going to be easy to just let her go," I gasped out.

"Find a way, lil nigga!" he slugged me in the stomach and let me fall to the ground.

All I could do was cough and spit up the pooled blood in my mouth until I gained enough strength to finally get off the wet ground. I can't believe her pops just want me to break up with her for no reason. How am I supposed to do that?

I walked the rest of the way home from my basketball game and was invited to another night of another argument. "Steve, how can you say that when you were the one that was fuckin' these young jawns around the neighborhood?" my mom yelled to my dad.

"Ma, calm down," I said rubbing my temples. They always argued to the point I couldn't stand coming home. A lot of times I would just crash at one of my teammate's house.

"Jay, go upstairs. This has nothing to do with you," my mom pointed.

I started up the stairs and my dad yelled, "Yeah, tell YOUR son to go upstairs. I knew he wasn't mine from the time you had him!"

"Shut the fuck up, Steve! Jermaine is all you from your pinky toe to your block ass head! I hope he doesn't go bald like you though," she shouted. I sat on the stairs and listened to them go back and forth until it suddenly got quiet. I inched down the last few steps and saw my dad had left and my mom was sprawled out on the couch unconscious.

"Ma!" I shook her. Her eyes rolled back and she started having some sort of seizure. I grabbed the nearest phone and dialed 911 before anything else. I followed their instructions until they got there to take her to the hospital.

That's like three problems I have to deal with now all in one hour. One: I have to break up with the girl I wanted to spend my life with. Two: My pops and moms arguing about me like I'm not almost a grown ass man. Three: This shit. I'm tired of people taking their problems out on me.

I let the EMTs take my mother and I sat and watched as they put my mother on the stretcher and carried her away. I couldn't even have time to myself to process what the hell was happening. They didn't even allow me to leave with her because the police were asking me all kinds of questions I couldn't really answer.

Why does she have bruises?
"I wouldn't know."

Does she have a history of epilepsy?
"She's the parent, I'm the child."

Did you put hands on your mother?
"I would've been the one on the stretcher."

Why do you have bruises?
"I play sports."

Does this have anything to do with drugs?

I stopped talking at that question and looked at them crazy because I was highly disrespected by that question. My mom was as clean cut as they come. She make have smoked up a box of Newports, but she never touched any drugs ever. They eventually cleared out and I was able to make some moves.

The only person I could think of to call was Raine, but I just got my ass handed to me by her dad so I was alone. I picked up the keys to my mother's car and drove around not really wanting to go to the hospital because I know when she comes to she's just going to blame me for my dad's actions. Like always.