The Bad Ones

Chapter 9

Max

This girl really had me over here geeking and shit ready to come over there. She was talking freaky in the messages but let's see if she was what she talked bout. It's been a few weeks since I've gotten out of jail and years since I fucked someone. All truth be told, I ain't want to fuck Brooke.

I wanted to at first but then she showed me that she wasn't that type of female I wanted to just leave and never speak to again. I didn't want her to be one of those girls. She was too special to be on of them. She actually got close to me while these other bitches couldn't get next to me.

Jakaiden, Khalil and Kyrie had left a few minutes ago and the boys were still in the living room trying to fix it up. I had went to my room after I threw up, took a shower and brushed my teeth and texted Brooke after I had gotten a notification that she had liked my picture from 5 months ago.

I loved knowing she was lurking; maybe found something she didn't want to find but oh well. My phone began to ring as I slowly falling asleep. It was my mom.

"Hey honey, how you doing?" She asked me over the phone.

"Was just about to go to sleep Mama. How you feeling?"

"I'm sorry to wake you baby. I'm feeling okay. Just wanted to let you know I love you so much and goodnight my prince"

"Goodnight mom"

"One more thing, the funeral is this week. I know this may be hard for you but I would like if you would come with me"

"Yeah mom. I'll come with you" I told her even though I didn't want to go, I had too; for my mother. She hung up the phone and I felt my eyes get lower and lower until all I saw was black.

****

"It was a mistake" My father said to me as I held my mother in my arms. Her face was bruised up and her nose was running with blood. He had hit her again after he said he wasn't going to do it again. I knew it wasn't going to be the last time so I rolled my eyes as I knew he was lying. It was always a mistake. Not really caring for my fathers cries, I just held onto my mother. A 9 year old just holding on to his mother knowing he couldn't do anything to defend her or himself.

My father wasn't really doing much. All he was doing was drinking more of his beer and pleading for forgiveness. How can you ask for forgiveness if you continuously doing the same things you're apologizing for?

He had put his hands on me for dropping a plate of food. I was terrified of my father. But most of all, terrified of him going to far and killing my mother. I tried everything to protect her and I failed. He continuously came home drunk at almost 1 in the morning trying to start stuff with my mother. He called her countless name, shouting out threats downstairs; his words slurring every time he tried to yell. His balance was always off, trying to hold on to things so he wouldn't fall. It was too much for me to handle. I had just called my Auntie to come pick us up right before he arrived. Mom and I just locked ourselves in her room ready to face the monster who had just walked in. His voice was off, he was mumbling stuff we ain't never understood. We heard the door shut close and I heard his feet being dragged into the kitchen. He dropped some plates and pots and began to cackle out loud.

"Look at this mess that you've created" He yelled at us. My heart was beating even faster as I heard him attempt to run up the steps. He wiggled the doorknob and stops to laugh once he noticed the door was locked. My mom whimpered as she held me closer to her. I couldn't stop crying because being 9 years old not being able to protect myself and my mother their from my father was just bad.