The Streets Never Forget

Jamal Rivers had spent his life in the streets, where power was measured in fear and respect.

The asphalt was his kingdom, the neon-lit alleyways his sanctuary.

Violence had shaped him, sculpted him into the ruthless man he had become.

Years ago, in the heat of a gang war, he had pulled the trigger without hesitation, sending a

rival to an early grave.

The sound of the gunshot still echoed in his nightmares, but he had never been caught.

That single act had cemented his reputation, elevating him from a nameless hustler to a feared name in

the underground world.

As time passed, he buried the memory under layers of vice.

The streets remained his domain, his existence a cycle of dealing, robbing, and betrayal.

The thrill of the chase, the adrenaline that coursed through his veins every time he escaped death—it was

the only thing that kept him breathing.

He knew he was living on borrowed time, but he refused to acknowledge the inevitable.

The darkness of his past lurked like a shadow, waiting for the moment he would slip.

One evening, under the dull glow of the grocery store's fluorescent lights, Jamal's gaze met a pair of

smoldering eyes across the aisle.

The woman, statuesque and confident, lingered by the fruit stand, playfully rolling an apple between her fingers.

Her lips curled into a knowing smile, an unspoken challenge.

Jamal, intrigued and drawn to the danger in her demeanor, took the bait.

Her name was Vanessa Carter.

Their first conversation was electric, laced with flirtation and veiled intentions.

They exchanged numbers, and soon, their nights bled into each other—drunken escapades, long drives through neon-lit streets, and

whispered confessions in the quiet haze of early morning.

Vanessa wasn’t just a bystander in his world; she embraced it.

She moved through the underworld with ease, selling for him, running weight with a natural finesse that surprised

even Jamal.

She became his confidante, his ride-or-die, seamlessly integrating into his lifestyle as if she had always belonged there.

But things changed when he noticed her growing belly.

"I ain't looking to be no daddy again.

I already got five kids," Jamal muttered, his voice laced with irritation as he leaned against the peeling

kitchen counter, arms folded over his chest.

The dim light above flickered slightly, casting jagged shadows across Vanessa’s face as she stood before him, one

hand instinctively cradling her growing belly.

Vanessa’s expression darkened.

"And you think that’s just your decision?

Like I’m just gonna erase this like it never happened?" Her voice was steady, but her fingers curled

into fists at her sides.

Jamal exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face before turning away, pacing.

"I don’t got time for this, Vanessa.

I ain’t built for this.

My life ain't meant for no more kids.

You knew what this was." She scoffed, stepping forward.

"I knew what this was?

No, you knew what this was.

You think you can just walk away?

You think you can throw people away when they stop fitting into your plans?" Jamal’s jaw tightened, his

hands balling into fists.

"I ain't throwin' nobody away, V.

I’m just sayin'—you need to handle this.

I got enough to worry about." Vanessa’s eyes blazed with fury, her breathing sharp and uneven.

"Well, I’m keeping my baby.

And you?

You can keep running, Jamal.

But one day, the things you leave behind catch up to you." Jamal stared at her, his mind

racing, but he said nothing.

Instead, he grabbed his jacket off the chair and stormed toward the door, slamming it behind him.

The weight of her words followed him into the night, but he refused to look back.

Vanessa’s eyes hardened.

"No.

I'm keeping my baby." That was all he needed to hear.

The moment Vanessa stood her ground, defying his wishes, Jamal severed their ties without a second thought.

He threw himself deeper into the streets, indulging in the rush of fast money, fleeting women, and reckless

crimes.

The city became his hunting ground, and he thrived in the chaos.

Neon lights cast long shadows over alleyways where he made backdoor deals, the scent of smoke and liquor

thick in the air.

Club music thumped like a heartbeat in the background as he drowned his thoughts in whiskey and temptation,

never staying in one place long enough to let regret catch up to him.

But the past has a way of creeping up, no matter how fast one runs.

The first sign came in murmurs, hushed voices muttering his name in the backrooms of nightclubs and in

the alleys he once ruled.

Word spread like wildfire—Jamal was a marked man.

Rivals wanted him dead, old enemies resurfaced, and the cops were circling, inching closer each day.

The paranoia sank in, a suffocating grip tightening around him.

Every knock at the door felt like a raid, every shadow in the night a lurking assassin.

He knew his time was running out.

The city that once gave him power was turning against him, and there was nowhere left to hide.

Then Vanessa called.

"I got something for us, a getaway," she purred.

"A trip to the Tennessee mountains." At first, he hesitated, but with no other options, he agreed.

The cabin stood alone, nestled deep within the embrace of towering pine trees that swayed gently in the

evening breeze.

The surrounding woods whispered in the night, the rustling leaves and distant calls of unseen creatures amplifying the

eerie isolation of the place.

The only sign of civilization was the winding dirt road that had led them here, now disappearing into

the thickening shadows.

Jamal glanced at Vanessa, watching how the dim golden glow of the cabin’s porch light danced across her

features.

She had an air of quiet satisfaction, like a woman who had just won an unseen battle.

He knew she had an agenda, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Better to keep her close, he thought.

She was unpredictable, and he wasn’t in a position to make more enemies.

As they settled inside, the warmth of the crackling fireplace cast flickering shapes across the wooden walls.

He reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing against the cool metal of a ring.

It wasn’t meant for Vanessa—not originally.

He had taken it from a woman he barely remembered, another fleeting conquest lost in the haze of

his reckless lifestyle.

Still, he pulled it out, his gaze settling on Vanessa as he turned it between his fingers.

"Let's make it official," he murmured, slipping the ring onto her finger, his voice laced with a mix

of exhaustion and something unspoken.

Vanessa looked down at the ring, then back up at him, her lips curling into an unreadable smile.

She traced her fingers lightly against his chest, her nails sending shivers across his skin.

"Tomorrow, I got something special planned," she whispered, her voice smooth, deliberate.

"Just us." Jamal nodded, but unease curled in his stomach.

There was something about the way she said it—something final.

"Let's make it official," he murmured.

Vanessa smiled, her fingers tracing his chest.

"Tomorrow, I got something special planned.

Just us." Morning came, and they set off for a hike.

The air was crisp, the mountains peaceful, but Vanessa veered off the trail.

"Come on, let's explore." Deep into the woods, they stumbled upon a massive pit—an old, abandoned hole in

the earth, dark and endless.

Jamal smirked.

"Damn.

Hate to see someone fall down that." The blow came sudden and fierce, a brutal force against his

spine that sent him stumbling forward.

His breath hitched as gravity seized him, yanking him into the abyss.

The world blurred into a chaotic spiral of dirt and sky before he crashed onto the jagged rocks

below.

Agony exploded through his ankle, the sickening snap of bone reverberating in his ears like a gunshot.

He gasped, his fingers clawing at the damp earth, pain rippling through his entire body.

His vision swam as he looked up, his face contorted in both agony and fury.

Above him, Vanessa stood at the edge of the pit, silhouetted against the morning light, her expression eerily

calm.

Then, her lips curled into a slow, malicious smile.

"You remember the man you killed years ago?" she taunted.

"That was my brother.

And this baby?

It ain't even yours.

I was just waiting for the right time." The trees whispered with an ominous rustling, branches swaying as

if they carried the weight of something unseen.

From the dense thicket, a figure emerged, moving with deliberate slowness.

The morning light barely touched him, his form cloaked in a thick hood that cast an eerie shadow

over his face.

The presence was undeniable, the tension in the air thickening as the figure stepped closer, the weight of

unspoken history pressing down on Jamal.

The moment felt stretched, frozen in time, as the man lifted his hands to his hood and slowly

peeled it back, revealing a face Jamal had long believed to be dead.

His stomach clenched as his breath hitched in his throat.

The past had come for him, and it wore the face of a ghost.

"Do you remember me?" the man asked.

It was him.

The rival he had supposedly killed.

He was alive.

Vanessa reached into her coat pocket, the dim morning light glinting off the cold metal as she handed

the gun to her brother.

The weight of vengeance hung thick in the air as the man took it, his fingers steady, his

gaze locked onto the pit where Jamal lay, broken and desperate.

Jamal’s breath came in ragged gasps, his hands trembling as he tried to push himself up, but the

pain was unbearable.

He looked up, his bloodshot eyes pleading.

"Vanessa...

don’t do this," he choked out, but she merely tilted her head, her expression void of mercy.

The crack of the gunshot shattered the silence of the woods.

A sharp cry escaped Jamal's lips before a second shot rang out, silencing him forever.

His body slumped, lifeless, into the dirt below, the darkness of the pit swallowing him whole.

Vanessa and her brother stood motionless for a moment, staring into the abyss.

Then, without a word, they moved methodically, shoveling dirt over him, layer after layer, until the earth bore

no trace of the man who once ruled the streets.

The past had been avenged, the cycle of violence complete.

As the final shovelful of dirt fell, Vanessa exhaled, her lips curling into a smirk.

"The streets never forget," she whispered, wiping the dirt from her hands.

"And neither do we." The streets never forget.

And neither did she.