I had what I needed to be on the path of righteousness. A family, a home, guidance, a drive to be successful. My grades were excellent, my intellect was unmatched, nobody ever doubted me even for a split second. I was always reliable. Was always able to get the job done.

Yet, one false move brought hell to everyone I knew.

My parents never liked my brothers. They believed they were to be the death of me. Though, they kept trying to make sure my head was still on straight. Meaning they kept making sure I was making the right moves with my life. Continuing my excellent grades, looking into colleges, scholarship programs, etc. They did not want me to become a victim to the system.

We weren’t rich, but we weren’t poor. We were living decent in the suburbs. Peaceful neighborhood, the perfect environment for building a family. That was what my folks wanted to do. Was only me & my little sister, Elisa.

With the grades & test scores I had, I had access to damn near every college I could think of. Offering me full rides as soon as I graduated high school. It was a dream worth my while no doubt. I just wanted to be a business man when I grew up.

My boys though….they lacked the unique intelligence I had. All they knew was street smarts. All they ever wanted to do was get into some shit. Going to parties, hanging out with a bunch of old heads around town, getting high. Of course, I never hesitated in joining in on the thrills.

Though, the situation didn’t have to escalate to that if Mitch didn’t talk crazy to the boy. The common sense of walking away never did fit his vocabulary. But after we left the party, we gained some notoriety.

Apparently the nigga we jumped was part of a gang thats deep into the drug game in the city. He sent the word out to his own pack about our attack on him, & soon would have them roaming the streets in search for all if not just one of us to send back a message.

Unfortunately, the message was received by my boy Alonzo. Who happened to be walking out by himself to the store. They caught him lackin’. The pulled up on him in a car, came out squad deep & hopped on him. Telling him to tell us to never fuck with them or else.

They left him on the sidewalk, bruised, bleeding, damn near crippled my boy. When I heard he was in the hospital, we rushed there & damn near pushed through the nurses & security to get to his room. When we saw his condition, we all had one same thought.

Revenge.

My parents covered all the hospital bills, but we still had a bill ourselves to pay.

Once Alonzo was cleared, we knew what was next. Mitch knew a couple guys that had a arsenal of weaponry they’d sell to people. Because we were cool with Mitch, they gave us a nice discount.

Turns out the nigga from the party was known throughout our high school. He used to go to ours a while before we came before he dropped out. We asked around, people gave us info on who he was, the gang he was in, & where they usually stayed at. And then after school, we had kicked off the inevitable.

We found their little safe house which wasn’t too far from where Darrell’s block was. We saw him & his crew standing out the front before they went in.

We hid in an alleyway & Mitch was carrying a black bag that held all of our gun & black ski masks.

I had never in my life killed anyone, let alone even thought of killing someone. I was afraid, but I know they weren’t. And I damn sure knew it wasn’t the time to choke.

I had to keep reminding myself why I was doing this. They almost killed Alonzo. My closest brother out of the three. Me & him shared a special bond, like we were blood related ourselves. If he would’ve died, I would’ve lost it. But since he didn’t, it didn’t feel right to even attempt to take someone’s life.

And then thinking of the consequences afterwards. My parents never looking at me the same, us being locked up for a long time, my whole future ruined because of some petty street violence, contributing to why we suffer from this disease called “ghetto mentality”.

We grabbed our guns, put on our ski masks, & crept up to the building. Apparently niggas don’t know how to lock a door, so we slid right in quietly. We heard them talking in a room down the hall, playing cards & getting high. And then I heard this:

“Yo we put that nigga in the hospital.”

“Forreal forreal, I was boutta put a bullet in da boul’s ass.”

“Was that the boul from the party though?”

“Nah but it was one of em that jumped me, them lil niggas lucky I ain’t pull out cuz shit would’ve been hot.”

Hearing them talking shit about the situation & making it seem like they had mercy on us somehow made me angry. I was ready to show that I was far from a bitch.

I rushed into the room first, had my gun drawn on all of them & began firing. My boys followed up behind me firing as well. We caught them by surprise.

They struggled to rush out of their chairs & duck as bullets were spraying. We hit every single one of them, from the torso down. Three of them were down almost instantly after, but one was alive & barely clinging to his life. The nigga from the party of course.

I walked over, kicked him right where his wounds were, made him suffer in his pain slowly.

“Alonzo you want this?” A call for him to finish him off.

Alzono didn’t hesitate. Kicking him, punching him in his face, & then putting the gun to his head blowing his brains out.

We saw on the table where they were playing cards they had stacks of cash, bags full of narcotics, & guns they couldn’t even reach for in time to defend themselves. We took it all, stuffed it in the black bag, & ran out as quickly as we could.

We rushed to Darrell’s place & hurried into the basement. Nobody was home luckily. That gave us the opportunity to sit, count up the racks we took which was a couple grand. We found ourselves rolling up the dope & smoking some of it before an idea hit my brain. A corrupted idea.

“Yo, do you know how much we could make with this? Don’t smoke it all up, I got an idea.”

They all looked at me & nodded. They had the same idea in mind. Before I knew it, we were up & about at the corners late at night selling the shit like it was candy. I would lie to my parents telling them I was studying with other friends. Inside I didn’t know how I could live knowing I committed murder. The cops would of course soon be onto us, given the fact that they were searching for any information that would lead to those responsible.

Us of course. But I knew the cops were of no real interest to investigate the typical black on black crime. Since it happens damn near everyday, all they are in for is just to arrest & kill with any kind of justifiable reason.

We started making fast cash. More cash than someone working 8 hour shifts 5 days every week.

At that point, I kept battling the thought of even going to college if I could be making this much money doing something so quick & easy. We could start a business with this shit, & keep stacking on our bread to get whatever we want.

If only I wasn’t so greedy for cash could a lot of things throughout my life not have happened.

“For the love of money is the root of all evil.”

That verse would forever haunt me….