Everywhere I go all I hear about is people talking about is , living “that” life. No one really knows what that life really is, but we know one thing for certain, if you don’t live that life you’re considered a punk by everyone in the hood. My name is Shareef, I’m sixteen years old and live in the one of the worst parts of Compton, California.  As I walk home from school to my apartment complex, I keep a sharp eye out for, Rodney, the neighborhood bully who also lives in my building. Not much is known about Rodney other than the fact that if you cross him in any way, he will get you. As i head inside my building I hear screams coming from apartment. I run in and see my step dad, Kareem, punching my mom in her stomach. 

 Everywhere I go all I hear about is people talking about is , living “that” life. No one really knows what that life really is, but we know one thing for certain, if you don’t live that life you’re considered a punk by everyone in the hood. My name is Shareef, I’m sixteen years old and live in the one of the worst parts of Compton, California.  As I walk home from school to my apartment complex, I keep a sharp eye out for, Rodney, the neighborhood bully who also lives in my building. Not much is known about Rodney other than the fact that if you cross him in any way, he will get you. As i head inside my building I hear screams coming from apartment. I run in and see my step dad, Kareem, punching my mom in her stomach.
“Get off my mama!” I yell as I attempt to pull Kareem off of her.
“Get off me lil’ boy, this trick owes me money!”, He screams back, “I’m getting what’s mine!” I feel helpless as I watch my mother get punched in her pregnant stomach.
“If i don’t have my money by Friday, I’m coming for you and you’re dirty little son!” Kareem says as he finally stops throwing punches. It was Wednesday, how much money could my mom owe? On top of that how was she going to get it, she can barely keep food in the house for me and Tyrone. Tyrone is my little brother, and all of the pain I’ve felt through these years, he’s felt and this boy is only nine years old. I hate having to explain why his mom gets beat everyday and treated like she doesn’t matter. Luckily Tyrone wasn’t home from school yet, I guess i wouldn’t have time to pick up my son if I was at home getting beat by a person i thought loved me.
“Shareef.”, my mom said in between whimpers, “I need you to go get your brother from school.” I stared at my mom angrily.
“Boy what are you staring at?” She asked me, tears still rolling down her cheeks.
“Momma why do you live like this?” I replied. “Why do you continuously let that man hurt you?”
“Stay out of my business you ungrateful punk! Who do you think you are trying to come between me and my man? You see those shoes on your feet? Kareem bought those! So don’t ever try to make him look like a bad person!” I took off the sneakers and laid them by her feet and walked out of the house. I started down the street towards my brothers school and across the street I see Rodney and a couple of his friends laughing outside of a Barber Shop.
“Aye! Aye, Shareef!” I hear Rodney yelling from across the street but I keep walking as if I didnt.
“That’s alright you punk young bol, next time I see you I’m putting you to sleep.” I finally make my way to my brother’s school and he runs to me as soon as he see’s me.
“Big Bro! Guess what I learned today?” He said, his face bright as sunshine as he spoke to me.
“What did you learn?” I asked.
“I learned that 80% of black folk die by another black person. Is that true?”
“Thats what they told you?”, he shook his head, “Well I know one thing for sure, nothing bad is going to happen to you, so you have nothing to worry about.” I assured him.
The sun began to come down and we still had about four more blocks to go, and I hear footsteps behind me, I turn and feel a rock hard fist hit me in my face. I fall and lose grip of Tyrone’s hand.
“Ty, run! Go home!”
“Shareef!”
“Tyrone run!” He does as I tell him but i hear his cries as he does. I am ambushed by three sets of feet. I hear one person say, “Go get his brother!” The other two people hold me up by my arms, and i see someone chase and tackle Tyrone. There is something shiny and metal in his hand, a gun.
“Ty! No!” I scream but it had no effect on the situation. Tyrone tries his best to fight off his attacker but is no match for the attackers strength. Then i hear it. A noise so loud that I’m sure everyone in the neighborhood heard it. I see Tyrone’s body fell limp and the people who jumped us run off. I climb to his body, still groggy from pain, I fall on top of him and see a hole in his chest, blood poured out on the sidewalk. He looked up at me and said,
“Big bro? I thought you were going to protect me?”, he coughs, “Am I dying?”
“No Ty, you’re gonna be fine!” My eyes full of tears and my heart full of pain and hatred. “You’re going to be fine.” His eyes begin to shut and the tears come harder. All i hear next is police sirens. I think to myself, is all this really worth “living that life”?