Sorry

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" I whispered to myself as I ran into an alley. I hid next to the trashcan, in between the smelliest trash bags.

"Where the fuck did she go!" I heard the men yell at each other. I peeked my head out and saw them looking around, I quickly put my head back.

I looked again after a few seconds and saw they were gone. I was so scared to move.

I slowly and quietly got out of my hiding spot and ran to the nearest subway I could.

When I made it back home, I looked around to make sure I wasn't followed.

I walk inside and see everything is just the way I left it.

I sat my gun and taser down on the island and took off my dirty shirt, leaving me in my bra.

I threw the shirt in the washing machine before going to hop in the shower.

Today was just like any day. I have to run from ruthless ass niggas after I get off work.

Days that I don't go to work, I lock myself in the house all day.

The reason why I'm being chased is because of my dead brother, King.

Sounds crazy but when I think about it, I'm not surprised.

My brother was a big trouble maker and didn't give a shit about anything or anybody, sadly, not even me.

King also had a lot of secrets, I promised I'd never spill. It would've ruined his reputation, and he could have been put away for life. I didn't want that.

He had beef with this gang, he supposedly stole five-thousand dollars worth of drugs and weapons from them, and all they want is their stuff back, but my brother got caught in a drive-by, not even by the gang. No one knows who did the drive-by.

Now, their stuff is hidden somewhere, and if I knew where it was, I'd gladly hand it back, but I had nothing to do with anything my brother did.

Of course, they think I'm lying, so now their after me.

I get out the shower and put on my silk pajama set and put my matching durag on.

My phone started to ring and I see my dad calling for the fiftieth time today.

"Hey pops." I answer while sitting down on my bed.

"How's my princess?"

"I'm fine. You?"

"Yea, just calling to check on you. You know I wouldn't if you just-.."

"Move back to Atlanta? Tuh." I shook my head. "Look, I told you I'm not coming back there. I'm good in New York." I lied. I didn't belong here, but Atlanta was no better.

I heard him sigh.

"Dad, I'll talk to you tomorrow." I hung up the phone and turned my ringer off.

He calls and tells me everyday to come back to Atlanta. It's funny he only started to care when King died.