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Kindle Notes & Highlights
by
Jahquel J.
Read between
August 4 - August 5, 2025
When she was arrested, it wasn’t something devastating because she was never there to begin with. Raheem on the other hand took it pretty hard. He idolized my mother and whatever boyfriend she brought around for the week. He saw the money, jewels, and cars and wanted it all. While all us kids were planning on what we wanted to be when we grew up, Raheem wanted to be a hustler.
I should have run away all the times the thought crossed my mind. Where was I supposed to go at sixteen? My yaya was my entire world and the one who protected me from the world. All she wanted was for me to attend college.
Raheem said fuck being a police officer, handyman, or even a construction worker. He decided drugs weren’t quick enough money, so he turned to selling pussy. “I’m sixteen, Rah,” I said barely above a whisper. He sparked his blunt and then looked at me with malice laced in his eyes. “All you do is walk around with a fucking book in your hand. Judging the very bitches that keep a roof over your fucking head.”
Raheem had never been a big brother that protected me. He always looked out for himself, so I don’t know why I expected different from him when Yaya passed on.
“Alaia, get the hell on with that bullshit… I don’t have time to keep tabs on you. Unlike the rest of these bitches, I actually give a fuck about what happens to you.” He tried to sound convincing, as if he was a big brother looking out for what was best for me. When in reality, all he cared about was the money he made, and the bitches he pimped.
The man had to be no more than 5’8, he was shorter than Raheem for sure. He wore linen white pants and a graphic T-shirt. On his head, he wore a Kufi and a pair of round gold rimmed glasses. He was handsome, and from the way he licked his lips he knew that he was. The man wasn’t skinny by no means; however, he had a meaty physique that some women might admire. Although, he was about two burgers away from being fat.
The man turned, noticing me for the first time. His eyes told me that he liked what he saw. It was a look I had been given way too many times by Raheem’s friends. Their eyes glossed over my body, and I could see the nasty and vile thoughts that were probably running through their minds.
I could run away and never return again. That was exactly what I planned to do, because I would be damned if Raheem made a living off me. It wasn’t right, and I had nobody here to step up for me. My mother was gone, Yaya was dead, and I didn’t know my father.
Raheem sat there with a look of satisfaction on his face as he looked me over, deciding on if the price would remain the same. He kept surveying me like I was a prized poodle in a show. “Add two more racks on top of that. She smart, too… not one of those dumb bitches.”
I was being sold by my brother to a man that was much older than me, and there wasn’t anything that I could do. Protecting his kid sister was the least of Raheem’s problems. I prayed that he never had a moments peace and that this life he was so excited to have turned into everything that he never wanted it to be.
As the car pulled off the block, I fought to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. Everything happened so fast. One second, I was standing in the living room explaining to Raheem why I needed money, and the next I was leaving the only home that I have ever known to an unfamiliar place with an even more unfamiliar man.
“When you got a bunch of pussy muthafuckas running your day, you don’t have a choice on when you can wake up and go to sleep.”
Me and Ken were like water and vinegar and only I could say that shit. Whenever Capone called himself being knowledgeable on my relationship, I always shut his ass down. Maybe I knew he was right about Ken, and there was a part of me that felt like I had to continue to hold her ass down.
I watched as he kissed the top of her bald head, and then dropped a few kisses on her lips. Capone had never loved like the way he loved Erin. There was no other woman put on this earth for my brother. I had to admit, being around the both of them for the past few months reminded me what love looked like. It was patient. Kind.
Kendra was selfish as hell, and she wanted everything to be about her. The real reason I hadn’t popped up on her was to see how hard she would go to see me. Would she call the prison to even inquire why I couldn’t have any visits? I set my self-up because she didn’t do any of that shit. Instead, she used the direct line to ask me for more money or to upgrade her whip.
Chubs had been around, and I hadn’t let him know that I knew he was my son. The shit was clear that he was my son. He looked like me, and I couldn’t deny him if I wanted to. I guess I was scared to approach the subject because I hadn’t been there. How could I call myself a father when I had never been there, and only found about him last year?
“All I can say is make those memories and build the relationship. Chubs is one of the realest niggas on the team… he was made for this shit. He’s grown so ain’t much you can do about that but focus on being his pops. Leave that other shit alone right now.”
She hid a son from me and never said anything to me. I think what made everything worse was the fact that she didn’t raise our son. While I was shelling out money to buy her whatever she wanted, she didn’t have the decency to even raise our kid. It showed me the kind of woman she was, and that wasn’t the kind of woman I wanted as a wife.
I wanted an easy and peaceful life when I walked through the doors of my home. In the streets, there was no peace, especially with me running them. However, the moment I crossed my threshold, I wanted my woman to greet me and be my peace.
Zayne had three other wives, and they all had children and had come before me. If that wasn’t enough, each wife couldn’t stand me. Especially when it came to Fatima. She hated me from the day I stepped into her house at sixteen years old.
how the fuck a grown ass woman gets jealous of a SIXTEEN year old becoming someone’s harem? bitches be bonkers!
He didn’t offer any other explanation other than I was to be taught how to do things. Fatima stared at me, a younger woman who was tossed into her home and told to teach the way of her world. A younger girl who would be pleasing her husband.
a grown man making a sixteen year old—a girl old enough to be his daughter—a wife AND mother? i’m glad his ass is dead.
Always having to fend for myself and care for me. Zayne was never around unless it came to having sex. Years of unwanted sex, abuse and miscarriages is what I had to endure because I had been sold.
my strongest soldier smh and the fact her brother doesn’t even care she went through so much shit because he wanted to make fucking money.
I converted to Islam, and covered my hair because that was what Zayne wanted. As the years went on, he preached so much about the Quran and why we had to follow the teachings that I wasn’t sure about anything. Zayne was a big fraud and used religion as a way to cover up his bullshit. Any real Muslim didn’t believe or do half the shit that he did.
Out of all of his wives, I was the only one that made the trips to visit him. When he was released, it was the other wives he ran to and made sure had everything they needed. I was the last stop he made, and by then he was empty handed.
Money was tight and he said he couldn’t keep up paying for the apartment that we had, along with all of the other houses his other wives owned. I had a small rental apartment with one bedroom, had to walk up six flights of stairs, and I was the one that had to give up my home?
He was a man that took a teenage girl across state lines and made her his fourth wife. It was a miracle that I had been able to carry this pregnancy this long. After all the pregnancies that I had lost, I was starting to believe that I was broken.