At home, I am greeted by my mother, who states I’m home kind of late for a school day. It’s only six o’clock. Usually I come home when school lets out.
“You look shook,” she notices.
It’s because I’m associated with a gang leader now. I’ve agreed to illegally sell drugs and wear gang-related apparel. That’s why I look shook.
My facial expression makes her laugh. It’s a laugh that lets me know her life is happy and wonderful.
“Sometimes I really think you’re afraid of the outside world,” she smiles jokingly.
I nod, make my way upstairs. She doesn’t understand. Nobody in this house understands what I’ve just done. It’s a heavy load on my chest, and I feel sick to my fucking stomach.
So I throw up in the toilet to relieve some of the tension.