North America / Illinois / South Side Chicago (Behind McDonald's): January 8th, 1984.
*Flick*
"No." Said a man calmly. Closing a lighter as he took a blunt out of his mouth and exhaled a cloud of smoke. It being a handsome and tall young man with dark brown eyes, a dark, warm brown skin tone, a oval-oblong shaped bearded face and low taper faded dark brown hair.
The alley was silent.
"Y…your…y… you need to just listen. It's only for the money." Said a chocolate skinned old man in a ripped, dirty attire with a lot of sweat trailing down his face from his forehead.
(Robert Sylvester Kelly's POV)
"God help me already" I thought while raising my right hand up. The alley hall Immediately going silent.
"You mean it's for the benefit of you, I would rather eat pussy all day than to sell this pack to your broke ass." I said calmly and uncaringly as I threw the blunt over my own shoulder.
*Ssk*
The old man adjusted his throat loudly and said with a serious look on his face as he straightened his back, his left hand continuously scratching his right ashy arm "P…please, I just need a little of it, this is for my health…it is…"
"Going to kill you later." I said with a snicker as I rubbed my bearded with bored eyes.
The alley was absolutely silent.
"Fucking crackheads" I thought while clicking my teeth softly under my breath as my mind started to drift back to how this all begin in the first place.
(Flashback: North America / Unknown City (Crosswalk): Unknown Date / 2 years ago)
(Edward John King's POV)
"Lord have mercy, my back is killing me." I said muttering underneath my breath in pain as I walked down the sidewalk with my hands in my pockets.
The street was calm.
Cars drove by slowly. People walked past each other without giving a damn about anyone else's problems. A dog barked somewhere in the distance and a couple on the other side of the road were arguing like they had been together too long to actually leave each other alone.
I sighed.
I had just left my disabled brother's house after helping him and my sister in law move some furniture around.
A couch.
Two boxes.
A table.
And some heavy ass wooden dresser that felt like it had bricks, bones and bad god knows what inside of it.
My shoulders hurt. My arms hurt and my legs hurt.
But I was in a good mood.
Why.
Because my brother smiled today.
The first real smile I had seen on his face in a while.
"Guess helping people ain't always bad" I thought with a small smile forming on my face as I stopped at the cross walk.
I looked across the street and seen a very frail old woman standing at the crosswalk with a cane in her right hand and a hunched over back.
The woman looked like death was already late to pick her up.
She took one small step.
Then stopped.
Then took another small step.
Then stopped again.
I stared at her for a moment and sighed while saying as I hurried over to her "God help me already."
The old woman looked up at me with watery eyes and said weakly "Young man…can you help me cross."
I smiled lightly and said calmly "Yeah. Come on grandma."
The old woman grabbed my arm.
Her hand was cold.
Very cold.
I slowly walked her across the street as she took tiny little steps beside me.
The road was silent.
"Thank you baby." Said the old woman softly with a smile as she fiddled inside her purse with her left hand.
I looked at her and said with a small smile "It's fine. I don't need any money, just be careful next time."
The old woman stopped walking.
I frowned.
"What." I asked calmly.
The old woman looked up at me with a innocent smile on her wrinkly face and said with a deep man's voice "Die, you stupid fuck."
*SHSK*
My eyes widened.
My body froze.
I slowly looked down and seen a knife stuck in my stomach.
The street was silent.
Blood started leaking through my shirt.
I looked back at the old woman with wide eyes and asked hoarsely "Y…your a fucking man."
The old woman snatched my wallet out of my back pocket and suddenly took off running down the street at olympic speeds.
My mouth opened.
The old woman was gone.
Completely gone.
"That old bitch just robbed me." I said muttering weakly with a look of disbelief on my face.
The street was silent.
A man across the street dropped his drink.
A woman screamed.
I stumbled back and fell against the light pole while holding my stomach.
Blood leaked through my fingers.
"Ain't no way. That old bitch was a cosplaying man." I said with a weak laugh that turned into a cough.
My knees buckled.
I fell.
*Boom*
The sky stared down at me.
Bright.
Annoying.
Too damn bright.
I blinked slowly.
I helped my brother.
I helped my sister in law.
I helped a old lady.
And the old lady stabbed me and stole my wallet.
"What a stupid ass way to die" I thought with tired eyes.
The sound of people screaming started to fade.
My body felt cold.
My fingers twitched against the concrete.
I tried to breathe.
I couldn't.
The sky blurred.
Silence.
…
North America / Illinois / South Side Chicago (Ida B. Wells Housing Project): February 20th, 1982.
"GET YOUR ASS UP." Said a woman's voice screaming madly from out of nowhere.
My eyes shot open Immediately.
*BAM*
Pain exploded through my head.
"GAH…" I shouted loudly as my body jerked to the side.
*BAM*
A kitchen pan slammed into my head again.
The room was spinning.
"YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST LAY AROUND ALL DAY ROBERT." Said a chocolate skinned woman loudly above me with angry wide eyes.
"What the fuck" I thought with a confused and pained look on my face as blood started dripping down the side of my forehead.
*BAM*
The pan hit me again.
My vision went white for a second.
The room was loud.
Too loud.
A small apartment.
Old walls.
Bad smell.
Anger.
Poverty.
Heat.
Screaming.
My hand grabbed the edge of the bed as I tried to move away.
The woman raised the pan again.
Suddenly my head felt like it cracked open from the inside.
"GAWCK." I choked out as memories started flashing through my mind.
A boy.
Chicago.
A house full of neglect.
A childhood with too much noise and not enough protection.
A little boy being touched when he was too young to understand why his body felt like it no longer belonged to him.
Seven years old.
Then eight.
Then nine.
Then ten.
A older female family member.
A older male friend of the family.
Years of things that should have never happened to a child.
My eyes widened.
My breathing stopped.
The memories kept coming.
Robert sylvester kelly.
Born january 8th, 1967.
Fifteen years old.
South side chicago.
A voice.
A body.
A name.
A future.
A horrible future.
The woman raised the pan again.
My eyes slowly moved towards her.
Theresa kelly.
Older sister.
The room was absolutely silent.
She swung the pan down again.
I moved.
Her eyes widened.
My right hand shot up and grabbed her wrist.
"What the…" Said theresa with a shocked look on her face.
I stood up slowly with blood running down my face.
My hand tightened around her wrist.
The room was silent.
I smiled.
Not happy.
Not amused.
Just angry.
Very angry.
"Wrong morning." I said calmly.
Theresa's face twisted into utter, complete confusion.
I yanked the pan out of her hand.
*BAM*
The pan smashed against the side of her head.
Her body dropped to the floor.
*Boom*
The apartment was silent.
I stood over her for a moment with blood dripping down my face and the pan in my hand.
My breathing was heavy. My head hurt.
My memories hurt worse.
I looked around the small room and thought with wide angry eyes "So this is robert kelly, wait. I became r. kelly"
I laughed once.
A tired ugly laugh.
"This is what I woke up into." I said muttering underneath my breath.
The apartment was silent.
I looked down at theresa's unconscious body. At the bloody pan, and finally at my own hands.
Darker.
Younger.
Not mine.
I walked to the small mirror hanging on the wall and stared at my reflection.
A tall young boy with with dark brown eyes, a dark, warm brown skin tone, a oval-oblong shaped little chin bearded face and low taper faded dark brown hair.
The room was silent.
I touched my face and said slowly "Robert sylvester kelly."
The name tasted wrong in my own mouth.
The future hit me.
Not memories. Knowledge.
A name the world would one day love.
A name the world would one day hate.
Songs.
Fame.
Money.
Women.
Power.
Rot.
Prison.
A entire life waiting to become poison.
My jaw tightened.
"No. I only wanted a normal life and now I'm stuck with this piece of shit." I said calmly with my eyes hardening.
The apartment was silent.
I dropped the pan on the floor.
*Clank*
I grabbed what little clothes I could find.
A shirt.
A jacket.
Some shoes.
A few dollars.
I looked around the apartment one last time and finally down at theresa on the floor with cold eyes and said while shooting the middle finger up at her "Keep the family. I'm on my own from now on you bitch, I'll go see if mcdonald's is hiring."
I opened the door and walked started leaving.
The hallway smelled like smoke, old food and pungent with mold.
I kept walking.
No goodbye.
No crying.
No looking back.
Because edward john king was dead.
Robert sylvester kelly.
He was not going to stay here long enough to become whatever this place wanted him to be.
…
(Present: North America / Illinois / South Side Chicago (Behind McDonald's): January 8th, 1984.
"Boring as hell." I said underneath my breath as I watched the old man leave and scream at the sky.
…
THE END…