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Her eyes raked over me, full of questions I couldn’t answer. As much as I loved and trusted Honesty, there were parts of my life I would never share with anyone, not even her.

“Okay. Here’s some money for the food and stuff. If you need more, let me know.” I handed her the money in my pocket.

“Thanks. I already know what you like, so I’ll be right back.” She gave me one last look before turning to walk out the door. As soon as the door shut, I headed to my room to take a shower.

Honesty knew showers were one of the ways I decompressed. She had no idea where it came from, but she used to make fun of me because I used to take so many showers. There was something soothing about the stream and hot water beating across my skin. Whenever I found myself becoming overwhelmed or anxious, I would take a shower to cleanse my skin and clear my thoughts.

I stood underneath the downpour of the showerhead with my head bowed, with my hands pressed against the wall. Inside, I wanted to break everything in sight, but I couldn’t. Anger surged through me as I replayed the ignorant conversation between Brenesha and me.

She and Meesha were similar in how they thought. For some reason, they liked to twist the reality of our upbringing to make them feel better about themselves. Meesha acted as if she hadn’t abandoned us for the streets most of our lives, and now she couldn’t understand why most of us wanted nothing to do with her.

When she first got locked up, she used to cry and complain about how unfair it was that she was locked up. As time went on, she grew bolder, demanding we come see her and keep money on her books. She often played the mother card when she felt as if we weren't moving the way she wanted to. It amazed me how she felt entitled to my time and money when she never invested the same energy into me.

After the first year, I stopped taking calls from her and ignored her altogether. Yaya did the same, which only infuriated Meesha more. From my understanding, Malea still spoke to her, and although I didn’t understand it, I never got in her way. If she wanted to form a bond with her, she was free to do so. My only hope was that she didn’t end up disappointed like the rest of us.

I stayed in the shower for a long time before I finally grabbed my wash rag and started cleaning myself. While life had gotten better for me over the years, it would never erase the damage from my past, nor would it allow me to forget the hell I endured as a child. As I washed my arms, I stared at the faded scars and burn marks I tried my best to cover with ink.

No one truly understood where my love for tattooing came from, but it was deeply rooted in pain. I loved the feel of the needle pricking my skin, distracting me from the incessant thoughts plaguing my mind.

I got my first tattoo when I was thirteen, after Yaya moved out. I felt hurt and abandoned and needed a way to express myself. Plus, there were scars and marks on my body I wanted to hide. One of my friend’s brothers used to tattoo in his basement, and he offered to do mine for free if I allowed him to freestyle. I agreed, hoping it would make me feel better. It did.

As I lay on the table in his mother’s basement, I could feel the hurt leave my body and be replaced with peace or at least numbness. After that first round, I became addicted, and once I started making money, I came to him almost monthly for a new piece. Ricardo only charged me $30, which was a steal in my world. The needle had become my addiction, and I needed my fix.

Eventually, I started spending more and more time there, and Ricardo began schooling me on different techniques. Once he realized I could draw, he challenged me to create sketches for some of his tattoos. For months, I would help him come up with dope ass sketches, and he would bring the art to life on his clients. We were a dynamic duo, and for once in my life, I found something that interested me.

We made plans to open up a shop one day, and he was going to make me a co-owner. It probably sounded crazy for a freshman in high school to be planning to open a business, but it helped take my mind off of everything I was going through at home. I started seeing the light at the end of the dark tunnel and was ready for something good to come into my life, but my dreams ended before they got a chance to get off the ground.

The day of Jose’s fifteenth birthday, Ricardo decided to throw him a party in their backyard. A bunch of people showed up, and everybody was enjoying themselves and having a good time. I remember going to the front door to see what Ricardo was up to, and before I could make it, the sound of gunshots rang out. Naturally, I dove to the floor as everyone screamed and panicked.

When the shots stopped, I jumped up, racing to the door to see what happened. Gunshots weren’t something foreign in my neighborhood, so I wasn’t necessarily afraid when I heard them, more so afraid of the damage they could cause. The moment I stepped outside, my eyes landed on a sight I would never be able to get out of my head. Ricardo lay in the front lawn with a gun lying next to him.

I didn’t hesitate to run over to him, but it was too late. The moment I saw his eyes looking to the sky, I knew it was over. Blood stained his T-shirt, and I couldn’t even tell how many times he had been hit. The screams grew louder as people began to make their way outside. I stood there in shock as a couple of his friends tried to administer CPR to his corpse. I

At some point, his mother made it outside, and I still remember the piercing scream she let out when she realized her son was gone. It was a sound that used to haunt me and keep me up at night because the pain was such gut-wrenching heartbreak, but we didn’t even know at the time; it was only the beginning of our pain.

It took a few moments to realize Juan still hadn’t made his way outside. Before I could even begin to wonder where he was, his aunt fell to her knees in prayer on the side of the house. Apparently, Juan had decided to check on Ricardo shortly after I left the backyard, but he decided to go around the house since it was faster. Two bullets to the chest silenced my childhood friend for life.

Watching them lower Juan and Ricardo into the ground changed me in ways I couldn’t articulate into words, but their deaths always fueled me to continue my journey into tattoos.

They were my motivation, and I vowed to keep their memories alive. When Jah gave me the opportunity to apprentice at his shop, all I could think about was Ricardo and how proud he would have been. I knew without a shadow of a doubt he would have been working with celebs and creating masterpieces.

He had been in a gang since a youngin’, but he used to talk to me about making the most of my life. The streets never played fair, and it was proven when I lost them both on the same day.

The water began to turn cold as I stood underneath. My locs were soaked, but I wasn’t trippin because I needed a retwist anyway. Ciyani, Messiah’s cousin-in-law, was a beast with locs, and I was scheduled to be in her chair before next week's event.

My thoughts were all over the place, and I needed a blunt in the worst way. I hated thinking about the past because the bad often outweighed the good. I lived my life with a mask on, and for the most part it worked for me until it didn’t. Today was one of those days where I wanted to shut down and drown out the voices in my head.

After ten more minutes in the cold water, I finally decided to get out. I wrapped one towel around my waist, and the other around my locs. As I looked at myself in the mirror, I felt conflicted. On one hand, I was proud of the man I had become, but on the other hand, I could feel myself becoming overwhelmed. I was sure it had a lot to do with my run-in with Brenesha, and I wanted nothing more than to put the interaction behind me.

Honesty should have been back by now, so I hurried up, changed into a pair of hoop shorts and a wife-beater. I grabbed my weed box before making my way back into the living room.

“It’s about time you finally emerged from the shower; I thought I was gonna have to come in there and perform CPR.”

I smirked for the first time since we saw each other outside.

“My bad. Time got away from me.” I acknowledged, before taking a seat on the sectional. It was her idea to get this oversized couch, but I went along with it because it truly didn’t matter to me.

“Yeah, you seem to be doing a lot of spacing out today. Would you care to fill me in on what has you so distracted? Normally, I’m the one stressing you out, so I need to know who’s trying to take my place.”