AUTHORS NOTE:
Sorry, in advance, for how this one pans out. But I wanna speed shit up a bit.
Also, it's unedited, so don't mind any mistakes. Imma be back to fix things up tomorrow
-
Previously, on "Lone Wolfing". .
See, at a tender age, before I even knew what love was, my mum packed up her bags and fled. Being estranged by her left this big hole in my heart.
A hole, that I allowed Menace to fill up. And that's one of the worst mistakes I've ever made.
I let her become my one and only source of happiness and that's where I went wrong - because now, look - Menace isn't here and I'm sad.
See, talking to someone every single day can be real destructive because there will come a day when you don't speak at all and it'll be the loneliest feeling in the world.
- - -
"I wanna change so bad. I don't wanna take things personal from people who don't know me personally. I don't wanna get depressed at everything. I don't wanna react to everything. I don't wanna put my everything into anything. I don't wanna make permanent decisions based on temporary feelings. I just wanna' be a Lone Wolf, you understand?"
Samira - Sailing Souls 2:4
S A M I R A (In The MM)
* * *
omniscient // third person p.o.v
-
LOCATION: Tottenham Bus Garage, North London
T I M E : 7:31 PM
- -
IT was any old evening, in the middle of March and unsurprisingly. . . the gritty streets of North London were freezing.
Walking hastily towards the bus stop outside Sainsbury's, Samira Indika-Khan regretted not grabbing a coat, or hoodie of some sort.
It was Friday night.
Secondary shool was out, and College was over.. . for the next forty-eight hours. So, as per usual, Tottenham main road was boasting with floods of groups of teens cackling animatedly to one another.
The local boys surrounded various stores: Kaspas, Morley's, Bagelhouse - and marked their territory. For at any given moment, members of the opposition could come reigning down.
And you did not want to get caught lacking.
30 days into the month of March - everyone and anyone in Walthamstow, Broadwater, or Tulse Hill was mourning.
Death pecked at the faces of these youths like a clingy hoe. 30 days in, three bodies had been dropped. One already buried, the two remaining to be dug six-feet-deep into the ground sometime soon.
Samira stood, like a lone wolf, by the bus stop. She sighed, as the reader read it would be 4 minutes until her bus - the 34 to Upper Walthamstow - would come.
To her, that was 4 minutes of overthinking. 4 minutes of gazing around at everyone else living their best lives.
4 minutes of wondering why she wasn't good enough for Menace. 4 good, long, bumbaclart, minutes of mind-battle.
The sound of giggles tore her from her thoughts.
Samira glanced, and saw some girls tickling each other opposite her.
She knew of one of them from Instagram - teemilan. Real name Temi. Since the unidentified friend found her spot, Temi threw her head into her chest, now giggling uncontrollably.
Samira just gazed silently and admired that dark, deep wave Malaysian hair cut into a shoulder-length bob.
Temi wore it quite naturally, little baby hairs swooped slick to perfection adorning her temple; it would have you believe it was her own real coils.
Temi had the prettiest eyes, so dark and large she always looked like a cartoon character lost in the maze of reality.
"Fine, alright man. . . I'm out!" Temi cried to her companion. She pouted, tugging lightly on her arm.
Samira felt herself being filled up with awe as she gawked openly at her.
She could still make out Temi's sexy figure through the fitted white wrap top she wore which clung to her like a second skin. Meanwhile, her thighs were adorned by a pair of pink Camouflage Cargo pants.
". . .so what? You lose this time?" The friend smirked, slowly lifting Temi's face by the chin, almost awaiting her response.
"Yes. Sorcha - I lost." Temi bit on her bottom lip shyly, shifting those cartoon eyes from the girl's caramel-toned face, to the concrete floor. Maintaining eye contact was something Temi could not do.
Samira gulped as she observed Temi coasting her hand which rested upon Sorcha's chest, up to her shoulders, before craning the back of her neck. "I've lost. So I'm cooking dinner tonight. What d'you wanna eat?"
" I wanna eat. . ." Sorcha took her time to shift her own gaze from Temi's thick thighs, moving on to her slim waist, taking a second too long at those perky breasts before finally staring up at that smooth brown face. Reddened pupils transfixed on Temi, she leant forward and whispered, "you."
I choked. All oxygen fled my throat as if Sorcha had said that to me, making me pat my chest repeatedly and cough a few times out loud.
Temi laughed, and Sorcha leant off of her, now standing upright again.
"Hey." Sorcha's gaze fixed onto me and I froze in place. I don't know why I was surprised that teemilan's
. . .friend? Had addressed me.
Maybe it's because I'm so un-used to actually speaking to people. Usually, I'm invisible. And now, I'd made myself seen. Throat, you're a snake! I grunted to myself.
"You good?" She asked, furrowing a brow. I gave her a nervous smile and quickly nodded my head, stealing a glance at her. A proper glance at her.
The way her eyes just lingered on me made me , not only, want to sink into the ground - but had my heart beating and pounding like an African drum.
She was covered in toffee, complexion the exact shade of Werthers Original.
Sorcha had full, plump lips and an air of maturity that was juxtaposed by the blue braces embracing her teeth. Something about her simply screamed masculinity to Samira.
I'm not sure whether it was the crisp, rose gold Armani watch that snaked around her wrist, or, the denim blue Rocco ripped jeans which hung low to her waist . . But this girl had an aura, this vibe of Young Ma-ness.
Sorcha was mandem.
"I'm alright, thanks." I spluttered with a nervous laugh after I'd finished scoping her. Temi smiled genuinely at me, hands wrapped tightly around Sorcha's collarbones.
In a strumming-like motion, I saw those short and bright slime green acrylic nails travel to tickle beneath the slime green Nike shirt Sorcha wore, as she rested peacefully on her back.
"So," I hummed to fill the awkward silence between us.
"Whereabouts are you man from? You guys from these sides?" I asked. Patting around my fanny pack, I felt for my Oyster Card as the 34 bus to Upper Walthamstow was now, finally, 1 minute away.
"I'm from Tulse Hill . . .Land of the dippings and chingings!" Temi beamed playfully, throwing up various gang signs, which caused me to cackle.
"And she's from Walthamstow - the deadest, most driest, ugliest-girl-having part of-"
"Lowe it, Tems." Sorcha wrangled her bottom lip upwards as if to fight back that sly smirk. "We don't want you getting taught a lesson in front of our new friend, you know? And ugliest-girl-having? That didn't sound like what was coming out your mouth last-"
"Ay, look, the 34 is here!" Laughing like a madwoman, I cut Sorcha off from talking any further.
Even the blind could see the pure embarrassment that played on Temi's face when Sorcha almost blurted out their private shenanigans, threatening to make them public.
'Thanks for that.' I just about made out Temi miming to me, and I smiled genuinely in response. 'Look what I'm gonna do to her - don't make it bait.' She mouthed.
I nodded.
After I retorted, those enviously succulent lips of hers draped across Sorcha's neck, giving cute little pecks here and there before her mouth parted wider, into an "O" shape and started grazing areas aggressively. That's when it dawned on me.
She was fucking biting her neck.
"Oi - Temi I swear if you don't stop I'm dropping you off of man!" Sorcha grunted, throwing her head backwards, and forwards like an electric bull, so that it would be harder for Temi to nibble at her.
I couldn't help but break out into a fit of uncontrolable laughter - because her plan flopped. Temi just grappled her throat, and latched her lips onto Sorcha's neck again.
Sucking, biting, and then sucking again. "Mira, I beg you tell this girl to stop moving mad?" She instructed me.
The question of how she knew my name raced through my mind but didn't pace fast enough to manifest into actual speech.
There's no denying I'm an overthinker. I'm known for thinking deep into things that are meant to be shallow ideologies.
I didn't tell Temi to stop.
And Sorcha didn't even appear angry, she was more irritated. She wore this I'm-tired-of-her-bullshit, and-I-want-it-to end expression on her face. It was. . .Cute and funny at the same time.
"No can do." I shrugged helplessly, earning a giggle from Temi. "I'm not involved. Your neck isn't my problem."
"That how it is now, yeah?" Her mouth fell agape in disbelief.
"Yerp." I popped the 'p'.
Hand slowly soaring upwards, I placed a finger to my own neck and admitted, "and by the way, you've got a little something there." As if in perfect timing, the bus, 34 to Upper Walthamstow came.
I held my arms out and waved a hand to let the driver know I wanted to hop on, and skipped closer once he slowed down before me.
"Thank you, driver." Now on, I slapped my Oyster onto the scanner and begun making my way up the stairs.
As each foot got closer to the landing of the upper deck, I said a mini-prayer, begging God to ensure none of his children would get on my bus today.
And like lightning, my prayer was answered.
The upper deck was empty as a motherfucker.
Nobody was present. And my ears were seduced by the abyss of silence. Happy - finally happy, without a care in the world, I skipped jollily to the back of the bus and took a seat, smiling to myself once I had sat down.
I pulled out my phone and pressed play on Options, by NSG, just nodding and bopping my head to the beat.
Using the sleeve of my jumper, I wiped down the droplets of dew from the bus window and used this time to get some angles.
North London at night was peaceful for once.
No ambulance nee-nawed in the rush to get to someone's dying child.
No crackheads slept rough on the floors.
We were alright.
Like the good old times before envy and jealously ate at our souls, causing brothers to bring out blood in one another - we were good.
Determination wafted through my mind after I took that blurry picture.
I thought long, and hard, about what to caption it. But settled on the one phrase that stayed delaying in my thoughts.
mirashakur but this view of main road is beautiful.
Tranquility in Tottenham is all I want. (the traffic from here to Beckton's realllllyyyyy looking like a trek)
After posting my shot, I continued to scroll down my Instagram feed. The same old posts met me, wannabe roadmen, bad bitches, Young Thug lovers. . One struck out to me because of the comments underneath it.
Liked by menace2suspect, teemilan and 938 others. . .
sorchamilan face really ain't cutting it rn. I promise I'll be peng soon 🙇🏽♀️
View all 42 comments
teemilan looking all daddyish👅
sorchamilan c'mon b. Come upstairs init
latifah.ashari I miss this hairstyle too Sorcha!
menace2suspect my bloodline🤘🏽
What did Menace have to do with Sorcha? I rattled to myself. Plopping my phone back into my fanny-pack, I hummed along to Pumpy, by Swarmz, AJ, Deno and Cadet.
To be really real with you - I only enjoyed the song because of Cadet. He was gifted with words. And his death got to me. He held a special place in my heart for his ability to confess things no other artist did.
My favorite freestyles by Cadet, hands down, are Slut and Closure. But he's performing to the angels now.
And one day, I guess I'll link him up there for a live performance.
-
"I pray we're right for eachother, I really do. D'you think man left by choice? Nah. Dead that. Man cut cause' I know I'll break you, Samira. I'm not good for you. You've got a future waiting on you, and I'll ruin that by dragging you into my past. . "
Menace - Sailing Souls 2:5
LOCATION: Upper Walthamstow, North London
* * *
M E N A C E (In The MM)
- -
menace's p.o.v
- - -
FUCK. I held on tight to Angel as she swayed her hips, this way and that to Wine Slow, by Gyptian, her head thrown back into my chest as her lips sung along to the lyrics.
This girl was the walking definition of a fucking hoe. All I wanted was for to whine slow for me, tic-toc for me - never, ever, ever would she be more than a toy to man.
". . .Babe?" Was the last part of her sentence I caught hold of.
Stepping backwards, I released my hand from her cinch of a waist and scanned around the bando. Santana. Sykes. Tayo. T-Nine, and me. Maybe she's mistaken. No one in this room was babe to her.
"Ang, what you talking about? Which one of us you calling babe?" I smirked - I couldn't help but laugh to myself.
She held onto my wrist, "you."
"Nah, Angel, see. This?" I smiled with a shake of my head. "Shit like this is why I say you need to become a comedian. You've got joke for days. Me and you? That can't happen. Impossible!" I chuckled. She pouted, seriously sad.
Now that the whining was done that familiar urge to boot her in the temple and stamp on her head raced through my bloodstream.
And I know that sounds crazy but I've never met a girl this annoying in my life.
"Jack Daniels done turned her fool, my brudda." T-Nine teased, tearing his eyes away from Fifa 15 to laugh at me. "I beg you fuck it one time and keep her quiet. What's she gonna do? What can she do? . . .Give you STD's?"
"Course she will." I nodded my head, turning my nose up in disgust at the thought of inserting my USB into her hardrive. Angel. Was. A. Tosser.
A hoe.
A thottimus. Bucket Pussy gyal 3000. And no matter how hard life gets, no matter how bad me and Mira fall out, I vowed to myself that I'd never fuck her.
"Take off your tracky." She pleaded, clutching onto my wrist. I licked my lips. . .deliberating upon whether or not this is what I really wanted.
Angel's brown eyes darkened, and she smiled innocently as though to entice me.
I snapped back into reality. "Nah. Fuck off." I told her, using one hand to push her own off of my grey Nike Tech Tracksuit bottoms. I still had love for Mira.
And I know. I know that doesn't make sense to you reading this. How can I say I got love for her then up and leave? Entertain other hoes? Stop her from talking to other guys?
Well - I have love for her. . . But I, and only I, Menace, can know that. If I tell her how I feel I'll get attached.
I'm scared to love her back, because I might love too deep.
And even though we're not on talking terms, I'm gas up that Samira has remained faithful to me. Latifah didn't do that to Zach. But what can I actually say? I'm a lucky guy.
"Oi!" Angel kicked me in the shin. "You're thinking about . . . her. . again, isn't it? That clapped little friend of yours you can't get enough of?"
My hands were around her neck before I could stop myself. I didn't know I was squeezing any air from her throat until she started screaming, and hitting at me.
"Listen," I growled, slightly letting go. "If you don't wanna meet God? You'll make sure you never talk sideways about my girl again. Real fucking sure - or you won't be turning 18. D'you understand what I'm saying?"
Angel nodded. "I'm sorry. I - I won't talk on her name no more." She stuttered, lips trembling.
Kissing my teeth, I let go, and made my way to the door. I needed to go upstairs.
I need to smoke on a spliff, stop thinking about Samira, and catch some sleep.
See, we were going to be lurking out in Beckton in a few hours. Meaning I needed to be alert. On my ten-toes.
You do not want to get caught lacking.
That shit'll get your head blown off your shoulders in the click of a finger.
Angel was only here because she was the set-up chick.
Her pretty face, and thick thighs lured Teddy into meeting her at his yard this midnight for a quick fuck. Little did he know, how us Walthamstow youngers were plotting on his friends, money, and life.
Samira flashed through my mind then.
I had this feeling - this weird feeling deep in the pit of my stomach that she wouldn't be safe tonight.
Like something bad, something real bad was going to happen to her.
So, I whipped my phone out of my pocket and went onto Instagram.
I'm not trying to stalk her or nothing, but there's no way man act some any stranger to her.
Liked by teemilan, sykes2suspect, moremoney.m and 37 others. . .
mirashakur but this view of main road is beautiful.
Tranquility in Tottenham is all I want. (the traffic from here to Beckton's realllllyyyyy looking like a trek)
View all 17 comments
sykes2suspect mira get out of Beckton soon as you see this. The streets ain't safe.
latifah.asharni stay there. I hope you catch a bullet in Beckton x
teemilan @latifah.asharni are you good? Have you lost your plot Tifah? Nah Zach needs to get her quicktime.
Me and Sorcha was with her a hot sec ago - could've brought her home
sykes2suspect @latifah.asharni make something happen to her. I don't care if your Zach's ting, you're done out ere. Know that
menace2suspect I'm coming for you
* * *
LOCATION: Beckton East, East London
TIME: 11:23 PM
"Always trust your gut feeling. You ain't crazy."
Unknown, Sailing Souls
-
S A M I R A (In The MM)
- -
mira's p.o.v
- - -
BECKTON East.
I didn't land here by choice.
I found myself trapped on the wrong side of the street, because the bus broke down.
Out of all places along the route, here is where the driver evacuated me from the bus. And I can't lie, something about his precision made me question whether it was planned.
Laying those thoughts to rest, I kept my eyes glued to the floor. I could feel myself shaking. And this sensation, a weird one, shot through my bloodstream.
Words cannot describe it - it's just like, the odd, unsettling feeling you get when you feel as though someone is watching you.
A chocolate toned black boy strolled towards me. And I prayed to God that he could make a way.
Some way, for me to escape Beckton without getting caught.
Walking as fast as my legs could carry me, I heard him nattering into his phone. "Bro, it's all mad. Fucking mad. They got him down differently. I'm hearing there's blood in Walthamstow and everything." I gasped.
Walthamstow? That's where Menace. . . My Menace lived.
"Hold up." Because of the sound of my loud gasp, the boy frowned his face at me, and stopped in his tracks.
We locked eyes; and I shuddered at the sight of a nasty scar submerged deep into his left cheek. He peered silently, eyes just boring into me as he told whoever it was, ". . lemme' - lemme' bell you back in a bit, bro."
I swallowed. I wanted to move but I couldn't. I was consumed with too much fear to do anything.
"I ain't seen you round Becky before. Who are you?" The way his emotionless eyes lasered into mine made me woozy.
"I said who the fuck are you?" I didn't speak. My focus was just darting uncontrollably, scanning from the alley, to behind me, to back at him.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from fainting as I observed him look around the road before he took a single step forward, bent down, and pulled up the bottom of his black jeans.
The boy then took out a stainless Swiss pen-knive, and lodged it into the inside of his Canada Goose body-warmer with a devilish smile. "Huh? Talk. Tell me. Who are you? Fore' I dip up your guts and the hospital identify you instead."
"Stand back," I warned. "I have a rape alarm. And I'm not afraid to use it. I won't think twice about ringing it off. Right here. Right now."
"Ah yeah? Is that so? Clap for your fucking self." The boy brought his hands closer together, and literally applauded me.
I just stood, absolutely bewildered.
"Cause' I got even the federally working for man out'ere." My bottom lip trembled and the boy laughed like this was a big joke.
He brought a hand to his left cheek, and smirked at me again. "See, this scar? If you don't talk the fuck up Imma' be giving one, just like it, to you." His deep voice made me wince as it grew closer.
"Shut the fuck up if you wan' fi' see tomorrow." The boy growled after I screamed. He grabbed me by the hood of my jacket and pulled me towards him.
"Tifah gave me the drop on you. . This is what happens when you get caught lacking in Beckton, lone wolfing."
He grabbed my forcefully by my wrist and pulled me along a secluded street towards a blacked out Mercedes, brimmed full of boys which was parked not too far from where we stood. "Hush your mouth."
Rape. That was the one process racing, shooting, darting, and delaying in my mind. I was going to be raped.
omniscient // third person p.o.v
Samira wasn't stupid.
She knew that if she kicked, and scream she would definitely regret it. Neither would she disclose her name anytime soon.
She told herself she was allowing this, doing this, to protect Menace.
And she was going to be quiet about it too - this truth would be way too painful for him to discover. It would break him.
"There's six of us in this car. And you're fucking each and every one of us man. Simple." The boy muttered in my ear.
I don't know whether it was the demonic air to his voice, or the harsh cold leather of the chair that made me shudder. "Do what we want? And we'll let you go. We'll leave you with your life. If you don't, we're deading you. Which one's it gonna' be?"
They all looked at Samira as she shakily tore off those jeans.