Fiction,..rehab B-sides...

                                       The separate housing units,..occupied by the lower income bracketed pedestrians,..does little to no justice for the helpless individuals that occupy the dismal projects of the city. In the out- of- town institutions we hear unfathomable tales of grief and molestation by its inhabitants. For entertainment purposes we nod our heads to the unbelievable truths.
                           When I first noticed her,...layered in grandmother's hand- me -down garments,.  she was exiting a local thrift store. Something struck me about her grace and demeanor. I, was just a poor young teenager then ,.... starving with malnutrition and desire. Pink was her favorite color. She wore colored ribbons in her hair. I had no intention of going to school that day,..or finishing it all together. I approached her casually and got her name. "Shanell",..is what she went by. The most beautiful word I ever heard in my whole life up to that point.
                               Home was no place for a sixteen year old to perish,..so I spent most my time wandering the polluted streets. I made friends,..or shall I say,.."Business acquaintances". It was before no time that I dropped out of high school and began to hustle. I started running the corner of K and Somerset. At first I held no sympathy for the pathetic junkies that I did business with. I didn't care for their grease ball slyness or closet manners. All of them were liars,...this I knew,...because they lied to themselves. My mother was a junky,...while I ,...a feeble adolescent,...developed in poverty,.. She would have a different "Sugar daddy"  over our house every night when she was home,...about half the time,
                           The fist time i was molested happened back in 1986,..I was an older "five" years of age at that time. I lay on my sunken mattress and stare to the darkened entrance leading out of my bedroom door and out into dimly lit hallway. A half an hour prior to this,.. I failed miserably at shooting my mother up with heroin for the first time. Her old man man grabbed me,. threw me into my hut,..then slammed the door,...moments later as I was laying on my back,..on my bed sobbing,..I felt a cool metallic object being pressed to the back of my neck. It was the business end of  a .48,...that would tell me to do incomprehensible demoralizing sexual favors.
                              It was then that I began tricking on the malicious streets of Kensington. I thought it was normal. When coming to,.. I learned it was anything but....