` INTRO

The angry clanking of Chanteur's high heels coming into fierce contact with the marble flooring could be heard echoing throughout the hallway of her home. Slowly tears fell from her eye's sliding down her cheeks, a trail of mascara following close behind. Silently she stripped herself of her clothing, allowing her dress to fall onto the floor, not bothering to put it away. Clad in only her panties and bra, she picked up the phone and began dialing those familiar numbers once more. Her heart beat increased as the call connected and began to ring.

"Hello?" the strong masculine voice said. Chanteur brought her legs together tightly trying to calm the anticipation that was forming between her thighs.

"Hey, are you busy?" she asked softly, light tears still finding their way out of her hazel eyes and down her chestnut brown face.

"No, I just got out the shower. What's wrong baby?"

She imagined her boyfriend inside of his bedroom, the walls covered with his erotic paintings. He was wearing only a towel, and she could almost feel the water that cascaded down his body following the muscular trail that seemed to be etched in stone. The throbbing between her legs increased as she envisioned him taking hold of her body, washing away all the pain her husband caused with the washcloth of seduction.

"Can you come over?" she asked in barely a whisper.

He couldn't understand where this was coming from. They rarely ever risked him coming over unless the husband was out of town. But this was no ordinary night and these were not ordinary circumstances. She needed him tonight, he had to relax her mind, soothe her aching body.

"What about him?" he asked with a hint of hostility in his voice.

"What about him? I need you Jergio."

He had always told himself that if there was a way he could have his Chanteur back again then he would do whatever he could. But never did he think he would go as far as becoming some woman’s other man. Often he told himself that he had to end it with her, the emotional turmoil their discreet relationship put him through was finally taking a toile. Stressfully he ran his fingers through his long dark brown locks he couldn't believe he was going to give in again, but this was Chanteur.

"Alright, I’ll be there in about a half hour okay?" he said grabbing a pair of loose fitting sweatpants slipping them on without first putting on his underwear. ‘There would be no need for them anyway,’ he thought.

"I'll be waiting." Chanteur said seductively as she placed the phone on the nightstand.

With the excitement of a school girl Chanteur waited impatiently, wanting Jergio to hurry up and arrive. She and Jergio had a lot of history, they dated throughout their high school years and the first two years of college and even after all the time they spent apart Jergio knew just what to do to make her explode with orgasmic pleasure.

There was a single ring at the door and Chanteur felt her heart skip a beat; it was him. Slowly she slipped out of bed checking herself in the mirror as she left out of the room. As she opened the door Chanteur felt as if she was going to come right then and there as Jergio stood in front of her in all of his chocolate goodness. Silently they embraced each other, neither of them uttered a word as their mouths met and their tongues began their familiar tango.

Without ever breaking their kiss Chanteur grabbed the rim of his sweatpants, directing him to the bedroom. Jergio began placing soft butterfly kisses on her neck once she was laid upon the bed, the satin sheets adding to the eroticism somehow. Slowly the kisses trailed down past her belly button making their way towards the treasure between her thighs. Slowly his tongue traced her vaginal walls before entering her completely. A slight moan escaped her lips as she began to grind her hips into his face. It was as if his tongue was some sort of magical bridge leading to her birth canal. It was like he knocked one of her eggs loose then decided to use the tip of his tongue to guide it through her fallopian tubes. His oral love making felt just that good.

All pleasure ceased to exist once he removed his lips from hers, yet quickly Jergio made up for it when his tongue was replaced with that rigid part of him. Slowly he entered Chanteur teasing her as he did, driving her completely insane.

"Faster." she moaned gripping the sheets tightly.

He didn't need to be told twice. Strategically he pulled his stiffness all the way out only to ram it roughly back into Chanteur. She did all she could to muffle the sounds of her passionate cries, hoping that the walls of her apartment were thick enough to drown out the sounds. The last thing she needed was for someone to hear her.

But someone did. Feeling extremely guilty for leaving his wife alone her husband decided to in fact come home and make it up to her. So you can bet he was alarmed to find another man in his bed, pleasing his wife the way he should be. So many ideas ran through his head, so many emotions flowed throughout his body. How long had she been cheating on him? How long had she been living this double life? How many times had this man been in their bed? There were so many unanswered questions on his mind as he slowly made his way to back to the living room.

"Well you know what you have to do right?" the raspy voice said. Frighteningly he looked around.

"Who said that?" he questioned picking up the gun that was in his end table drawer.

"Come on Tre, you mean you don't recognize my voice?"

Slowly Tremaine walked over to his mirror already knowing what he would see. There he was, the man who had almost ruined his life. The man he had worked so hard to get rid of. The man he thought was finally gone forever. The man in the mirror, the one he kept locked away afraid of what would happened if he allowed him to roam free again.

"What are you doing here?" he asked his reflection, not surprised when it began to move and speak back.

"I'm here to help you Tre. I told you that bitch wasn't good for us."

"There is no more us!" he exclaimed.

"Oh but there is. Why you try to get rid of me? I always look out for you man! I mean we all we got. I love you man, unlike that ho you married. We got to take care of her son! We can’t let that bitch get away with disrespecting us like that!”

"No, I’m in love with her!"

"And that’s exactly why we got to do it. As long as she's here all she's going to do is hurt us and break our heart. We can't let that happen again."

Anger and confusion continued to build inside of his body. He didn't want to but there was no other way, they had to. "Look son, if it'll make you feel better, I can take care of it for you."

Slowly Tremaine nodded yes and he smiled a smile of victory. Tre had just given him permission to take over his body once more, this was his second chance and he wouldn’t mess it up. The eyes that were once soft and pleasant now were a menacing dark brown and his muscles expanded slightly. Gripping the .45 in his hand slightly he made his way upstairs. He kicked the door in and the two lovers screamed loudly as Chanteur jumped off of Jergio. The room was silent, and no one uttered a sound.

"Tre baby, look I can explain."

"Shut up bitch." he said with a roar. He fired two shots, one hitting each of the two in the head killing them almost instantaneously. An accomplished smirk crept onto his face as he looked at the two of them, blood protruding out of each of their wounds. He was back and this would be the last time he allowed a motherfucker to take advantage of him. Hurricane was back and he didn’t plan on going anywhere.

` CHAPTER 1 | COOKIE MONSTER | PART 1



- Fall 1984


The night air was light and breezy, the nice jacket weather that coasted over the city before the violent winter came and shut it down. Tensed she sat in the tattered chair that decorated the living room of her one bedroom apartment, head tucked in between her legs, fingers gripping her dark brown locks. Young Tremaine watched in fear as his mothers body began to shake uncontrollably, he couldn't understand why on a cool night like this she seemed so hot and sweaty. Slowly he walked over to her, running his tiny five-year-old hand down her back trying to comfort her light sobs.

"Mama, you okay?" he asked nervously.

"Yeah, baby mommy is fine. Just feeling a little sick." she said forcing a smile in an attempt to reassure her sensitive son.

"You want me to go and get the `tussin?"

Even though she was in pain, that made her smile. It made her flash back to a happier time. The times when her grandmother would nurse her back to health, her favorite remedy being a bowl of chicken noodle soup and a tablespoon of Robitussin every hour on the hour. That was her answer to all of life’s illnesses, if Robitussin couldn't fix it then there just had to be something wrong with you. There was even a time when she had sprained her ankle and her grandmother truly thought that a trip to the hospital was a waste of time because she was sure that "the "tussin would make it all better". She wished this could be fixed with Granny Bee's antidote. She wished that all she had to do was take a spoon full of the thick, dark liquid and all her cravings would vanish and with it all of her withdrawal symptoms. That is what she was experiencing, withdrawal. It was an addiction that caught her off guard. She wasn't ashamed to call herself a pothead, and she knew her way around a bottle of John Daniels. He wasn't Jack to her, when you knew him the way that Faye knew him, you called him John, JD for short. But crack was in an entirely different playing field. When she ate cookies she was lifted in a way she only dreamed weed could do. It made her float and enhanced every feeling that coursed through her body. That it is, until she crashed. Every time she lost her high it felt as though she were forced to live through the worst moments of her life over and over again; in a slow motion replay with ESPN highlights. Mary Jane never did that to her. Even John never hurt her like this, he might smack her around a little bit from time to time, but never did he try to kill her.

Death. That's what it felt like when she needed her fix, like she was dying a slow and painful death. She didn't want to die and she didn't want to hurt. Faye just wanted to feel lifted one more time. She wanted to feel carefree like none of her problems existed. She wanted to feel as though she didn't just receive a final pink slip on her door. That fucking pink slip. The one that told all of her nosey neighbors that she couldn't even afford to pay rent in this dump of an apartment. She wanted to feel as though she had a real job, even though later on that night she would be back to twirling around on that long, shiny, silver pole once more in an attempt to save her home so that her children would have a place to rest their heads. Her children, that’s what the high really made her forget. That high made it easy for her not to hear the loud noises their stomachs made when all she had to feed them was baking soda and leftover ketchup packets. It allowed her to save face because in her world she was the mother of all mothers. They were a family with a house and a husband and a dog. There were no sirens wailing at all different hours of the night. They didn't have to sleep on the floor just in case a stray bullet decided to pay them a visit while they rested. In this world people like her didn't hide from the police because she was an upstanding citizen. When the pigs came driving down her street she would tip her head to them, instead of dropping it, silently praying that she wasn't the target. She had such an elaborate world created that it made coming back to the reality of things that much harder. All she wanted to do was get back to her world. That's what she was always doing. She was always trying to be back. She was always chasing that next fix, the next high, so much that it began to consume her life. She needed her glass dick more than she needed to breathe. In fact, sucking dick was the only way she felt could breathe.

Tremaine watched his mother intently as the questions rolled around in her mind. He didn't understand what was going on, or why his mother seemed on edge all the time. He just knew that he didn't want her to be sick, and she seemed to be getting sick all the time lately. One night while one of his 'uncles' was babysitting him and his little sister, he watched a movie about a girl whose mother was sick all of the time and she died at the end of the movie. He didn't want his mother to die, just the thought made him want to cry. Lightly he continued to rub his mothers back, longing to soothe her, hoping that he would make her feel better. But his efforts didn't work. Faye didn't stop shaking; in fact she only got worse until finally she couldn't take it anymore. Abruptly she got up from the chair, nearly knocking Tre over in the process.

"Ma, where you going?" he asked eyeing her intently.

"I have to go take care of some business Gramps I’ll be back!" she said as she slipped on her shoes and kissed her only son on his forehead. Lightly she ran her fingers through her sleeping daughters’ hair before walking towards the door.

"Lock the door and don't answer it for anyone! You understand?" she asked firmly.

"Yes," he told her before closing and locking the door behind her.

Although he was only five, Tre was used to being left at home by himself. It was his job to look after his younger sister Zoë when his mother had to leave and run her special errands. She never left them for very long, and when she came back she always seemed happier than before so it never really bothered him. But this night was different. Tre waited for what seemed to be hours and his mother never returned. Tired he climbed on the couch with his little sister Zoë, knowing that even though his mother had yet to return, she would definitely be there we he awoke in the morning. But she wasn't. Night turned to day and his mother was still no where to be found. Tre was nervous now because he couldn't remember a time when his mother left them alone all night by themselves. He was young but instinctively he knew something was wrong, yet there was nothing he could do about it.

"Where mama at Tre?" his younger sister questioned as she rubbed her eyes with her pudgy little fingers.

"I'ont know."

"What we gonna eat Tre?"

"I'ont know."

"I'm hungry though."

"Me too. Maybe ma will be back soon Zoë, we just gotta wait for her."

And wait they did. They watched TV and they waited quietly. They waited as their stomachs growled so loud that they were forced to eat dry, stale cereal out of the box. They waited until their favorite Saturday morning cartoons were over. They waited as the day turned into evening, the evening into night. But the two children were forced to spend another night alone because their mother was still missing in action. This scared Tre. He didn't know where his mother was or when she planned to come back. This was too much on the shoulders of a five year old.

A new day arrived and there was still no sign of his mother. Tremaine didn't know what to do, he was hungry and he was scared. He thought about walking across the hall to his neighbors’ house but he didn't want his mother to come back and be angry with him so he decided against it. Before he could think of another idea there was a loud knock on the door. It sounded almost as if someone was trying to bang his front door in. The sound frightened the two children, there could be someone on the other side wanting to hurt them and their mother wasn't here to protect them.

"It's the police! Is anyone in there?" a loud voice said on the other side.

That made Tre feel safer, it was the police it wasn't anyone trying to hurt them. But wait, anytime the police knocked on a door in their neighborhood, somebody was going to jail. That fact made him think twice about opening the door. Tre didn't want to go to jail.

"Tre it’s the police open the door!" Zoë said, pulling on his shirt.

"Shut up Zoë! Mama said not to open the door so we aint gon open it. For nobody!"

"But Tre - "

"Shut up! You gon make them hear us!" he hissed. Maybe if he they pretended that they weren't home the police would go away and leave them alone. But that wasn't the case. When they didn't respond the first time, the officers just continued to pound on the door.

"We know you're in there kids! It's alright open the door!" a woman’s voice said on the other side of the door.

This got Tremaine's attention. The officers knew that they were home; there was no hiding from them like he thought. But he couldn't open the door his mother said to never open the door for anybody. He didn't want to disobey his mother, she would be angry and he would get in trouble. He hated getting in trouble with his mother, but he didn't want to get in trouble with the police either. He decided to answer the officers; there was no way to get around it. They couldn't hide because the officers already knew they were inside.

"We aint s'pose to open the door for nobody!" Tre yelled out.

"It's ok your mother said it was alright. She can't come and get you right now and she didn't want to leave you alone. She sent us to look after you guys for her." the softer voice explained. "Don't worry, we won't hurt you and you won’t be in trouble."

She said that they wouldn't hurt him; they would be safe and that made Tre feel good. Best of all, his mother sent them here because she was concerned. She didn't want them to be alone. Slowly he placed his hand on the handle and his stomach growled loudly as he unlocked the door allowing the uniformed men and woman into his home. But they weren't all officers like he originally thought. There was a petite little woman with bright brown eyes and blonde hair piled on top of her head in a bun. The woman wore a black suit that laid on her curves snugly, and carried her briefcase with her closely. Tremaine had never seen a woman like her before; she didn't look like she belonged in their neighborhood.

"Hey, how are you guys doing?" she asked running her hair through Zoë’s wild curly mane.

"Fine." the two of them said in unison.

The officers took it upon themselves to begin looking around the apartment. They were going through their things and Tre didn't think that it was right and he was sure that his mother wouldn't like it. He didn't even know what they could be looking for.

"Don't go through my moms stuff like that! She ain't gonna like it!"

"Your mother doesn't have much of a choice in this situation little boy. Hey why don't you do your job and get these kids out of here Marie!" a tall and stocky police officer said to the young woman who took interest in them.

"I'm doing my job, why don't you focus on yours!" she replied as she lightly grabbed each of the children’s hand. “Why don't you two come with me?" Marie said not really asking. Slowly she turned around and attempted to walk the children away from the assault of their apartment, but Tre wouldn't move.

"Wait, where we going!" he asked snatching his hand away from Marie's. "Mama said we were s`pose to stay here until she got back. We not s`pose to go no where and they not s`pose to be going through her stuff like that!" He was beginning to get upset and no one seemed to be listening to anything that he had to say.

"Look kid," the same officer said, cutting in before Marie could even attempt to explain what was going on. “Your mother is not coming back here alright? She went out and got herself in trouble now you're our responsibility, so why don't you just be a good little kid and go with Marie."

"Wait what do you mean my moms not coming back?" Tre cried. He didn't understand how could his mother just leave and not come back. She was only going to run an errand she was supposed to be right back, she promised that she would be right back. He wasn't going anywhere with these people, he didn't know them and he didn't believe that his mother sent them to their house anymore. They were liars. Liars who were trying to take him from his home and away from his mother, he couldn't trust them.

"My mom is coming back! She said she was! She's comin' back! Leave her stuff alone! Get off of it!" he yelled, charging towards the policeman, hitting him in an attempt to make him leave his mother's things alone. Over and over again he punched and kicked the policeman, yelling for them to stop and wanting nothing more than for them to go away. He was upset and behaving erratically and that caused his sister to do the same.

"I don't wanna go! I want my mommy, where is my mommy?" little Zoë cried, burying her head into the woman’s lap.

"Great now look what you did! You've gone and gotten them upset! Do you know how hard it'll be to get them out of here now? Jesus Christ I told you I could handle it!" Marie exclaimed as she tried to scoop the little girl up and her arms and comfort her. She wanted to explain to the kids that their mother had to go away for a little while. She wanted to tell them how they were going on a trip. She wanted to reassure them that everything would be fine. The new social worker had everything planned out, she had her speech ready, her words practiced and memorized. Marie wanted everything to be perfect. But nothing was perfect. In fact, everything was as far away from perfect as she could have ever imagined. Her nerves were frazzled; it wasn't supposed to happen this way.

"You little bastard!" the cop cried as he held onto his knee where the little boy kicked him in a fit of rage. "Get these freakin' kids out of her now Marie!"

She tried to get them out of the apartment as fast as possible, but Tre's constant fighting was making that hard to do. He was only five years old, but she was a very small woman. It took nearly all of her energy to wrestle with him to the car, while still keeping a firm hand on Zoë. Marie tried to calm him down on the way, reassure him that everything was going to be okay. But Tre didn't want to hear it, not one word of it. All the words she'd practiced in front of the mirror for hours fell on deaf ears, and any words of reason were drowned out by Zoë’s impassioned cries. Marie couldn't continue to use her prewritten words; she had to come up with something on the spot. Anything to make him listen to her, she needed his cooperation.

"Please Tre! Look at me! Listen to me!" she said firmly. Gently she grabbed him by his shoulders, stopping his movements and forcing him to look at her. “I don't want to hurt you; I just want to help you. Let me help you, please."

“I don't need your help! I - want - my - mom!" he said as he tried to struggle free. But Marie wouldn't let go, instead she held onto him a little tighter.

"Your mother can't help you right now, and you can't go to her okay? Listen to me, I know you’re scared and you want your mother, but I need you to be a big boy okay? You have to be brave." For the first time since they were in the apartment Tremaine stopped fighting and looked at her.

"I need you to be brave and come with me Tre, I promise everything will be okay." Marie told him as she softly wiped the tears from his face.

"You promise?" he asked looking at his sister as she hiccupped her tears away.

"I promise." she reassured him.

His mother was gone and he didn't know when she was coming back. Tre was young and needed someone to trust. He wasn't sure if Marie was the one, but right now she was all he had.

` CHAPTER 1 | COOKIE MONSTER | PART 2

Weeks has passed since Tre and his sister were taken from their home and it was clear that a lot more time would pass before they would be with their mother again. Faye had been arrested trying to purchase drugs and the judge was going to make an example out her. Faye was sentenced to three years in prison, a sentence she would have to serve in its entirety if she didn't finish the federal rehabilitation program or was caught with drugs again within her five year probation period. Everyone told her she was lucky, it could have been worse. But what about her children? Where would they go while she faced her demons in rehab? Faye didn't have any family, or at least not any who liked her and would be willing to look after her kids while she was incarcerated. Tre and Zoë were forced to go where all lost children went when their families could no longer care for them, Foster Care.

Alone the children sat at the entrance of the brownstone; waiting as their caseworker Marie talked to the woman they were being given to.

"This is a good place for you guys to stay while your mom is away," she told them on the ride over. "Mrs. Thornton is a very nice woman."

Mrs. Thornton was a handsome middle aged woman, short and almost perfectly round. Her big brown eyes looked kindly over her thin rimmed glasses as she gazed over at the children waiting on her stoop. She had seen so many like them in her days of being a foster parent. Children whose lives were turned upside down because of the mistakes their parents made. They were hurt and misguided, tainted by the world so early on in their lives. Mrs. Thornton knew how it felt to have no one in the world to depend on, so she dedicated her life to helping children who were left to fend for themselves.

"So how long will their mother be away?" she asked wiping her hands on the flower dress that laid snugly on her rubenesque figure. She could tell just by looking at Tre and Zoë that they had seen a lot of hardship in their young years.

"I don't know, she's in court appointed rehab. Anywhere from 30 days to three months depending on how well she responds." said Marie.

"I don't have much more space here, probably enough for one."

"Please, Mrs. Thornton. I really don't want to separate them. Couldn't you just make a little extra room?"

Softly she sighed. Mrs. Thornton knew that one was all she could legally take right now, but looking at the two siblings she couldn't bare to tear them apart. “Two isn't much different than one," she replied, waving for the children to come inside. Marie was relieved, she knew that the children would be fine at Mrs. Thornton's; she was one of their better foster parents.

"I really only have one bed left," she began leading them inside her tiny brownstone. "so the two of you will have to share. Everyone is responsible for making their own beds, if you don't know how or need help just ask." she said as she showed them to their room. There were two bunk beds and two dressers inside, this allowed more space for children to sleep, though not much for walking. Both Tre and Zoë had one bag to themselves and they were instructed to leave it beside the bottom bunk they would be sharing.

"You share a small space with other people so it is really important that you keep your room clean at all times. The floors must be clear of all trash and junk."

Looking around the room it was obvious that this was a rule that was heavily enforced. If it wasn't for the small artifacts left on the beds and dressers, you wouldn't know that three other children lived here already. Slowly they followed Mrs. Thornton out of the room, trying to pay close attention as she showed them were everything was located. There were three bathrooms, one for the girls, one for the boys, and another that was only for Mrs. Thornton. Along with the bathrooms, there were also three bedrooms, one for each of the sexes and Mrs. Thornton. The boys’ room was already filled to capacity, so he and Zoë would be sharing a bed in the girls’ room.

"On school days, I will give you breakfast and dinner and you have to make sure you come to the table on time. Don't make other's wait for you, it's rude." she told them as they passed through the kitchen and into the play room. "I have a very strict no hitting rule, I don't know how you handle problems at your house but as long as you're at Mama Thornton's you treat other's the way you want to be treated. That means no hitting, screaming, or name calling. Is that clear?"

"Yes." the children replied in unison.

There were a lot more rules here than Tre and his sister were used to. On a wall in every room were chore charts filled with things each person was expected to do in order to make the house run more smoothly. It was a tough situation to get used to; sharing such closed quarters with other kids they had never met before. But Mama Thornton, as she preferred to be called, made it clear that as long as they made an attempt to help themselves she had no problem picking up the slack. She was the mother figure Tre always needed, the nurturer and provider his mother wished she knew how to be. Mama Thornton cared about his days at school and helped with his homework once he got home; she provided the balance Tremaine desperately needed in his young life. Unfortunately, her influence didn't last very long.

Tremaine had been living with Mama Thornton for about a month and finally began to find his own stride living in her home. He excelled in school and got along well with the other children that lived in the home with him. Faye was still working through her rehabilitation program, so it was time for their one month evaluation. Marie was supposed to pay them a visit and make sure that they were adjusting properly; she was going to have information on his mother and when they could go back home to her. But she never arrived. There was another woman asking about Tremaine when 12 o'clock came around, a woman he had never seen before. She was tall, slender and dark haired, the exactly opposite of petite, blonde haired Marie. She wore a navy blue pants suit and walked with a slight limp.

"Good afternoon. Um, there must be a mistake Miss ..." Mama Thornton began.

"Stewark, Aimee Stewark. And no there is no mistake. A lot of Marie cases have gotten redistributed amongst the agency and I landed, uh. let's see." the young woman replied as she looked through her files. "Ah, here we go! Tremaine Lons."

"Only Tre? He has a sister, Zoë too. Their here together."

"Uh, nope no Zoë sorry, only Tremaine." she said double checking her files to be certain she wasn't over looking the little girl. "I wish I could tell you who has her file, but I'm really uncertain. Can we get started with the evaluation; I have a few other places I have to visit today?"

"Oh yes of course, follow me."

Aimee looked through Mama Thornton's home and everything checked out well. Tremaine had all the proper care he needed as a growing boy; he was excelling in school, even making friends with the other children. She was sure there wouldn't be any problems allowing him to stay here longer, that is until she checked his bedroom.

"You sleep in the girl's room Tremaine?"

"Yea, with my sister."

"In the same bed?"

"Uh huh."

"Mrs. Thornton, can I speak with you for a moment please?” she asked. Slowly the two women walked outside of the room leaving Tre alone. "You know this is a problem don't you?"

"Yeah, I know." she responded. Mama Thornton knew it was an issue even before Aimee asked to speak with her alone. There were certain rules she was expected to follow as a foster parent, and she was breaking two of the most important ones. Boys and girls had to have separate sleeping areas, and each child needed their own bed. But Mrs. Thornton had a silent agreement with Marie, one that would allow the children to stay with her together until their mother's short stint in rehab was over, an agreement that was slowly crumbling before her very eyes.

"You know they can't live here under these conditions. I have to move Tremaine."

"But wait hold on now, he's already gotten used to being here. His mother should be out soon right? And what about his sister, you can't separate them!"

"His mother isn't coming back soon!" Aimee said in a hushed tone.

"What do you mean?"

Aimee eyed Tre cautiously, stepping further out of earshot as she continued to explain the situation. "She left rehab Mrs. Thornton, against the judges’ orders. That means even if she is caught anytime soon, she'll have to serve three years in jail before she could even think about having custody of these kids again!"

"So his mother is gone and you want to take him away from his sister too? How fair does that seem?"

"Not fair at all Mrs. Thornton, but it's out of my control now. If Marie had done it correctly the first time we wouldn't even be having this discussion right now. But if I leave Tremaine here and someone finds out about it, you could lose your license. Now how fair is that to all the other children that could've been helped by you?"

She was right. Mama Thornton didn't want to admit it, but she was. She loved having Tre around, but if the county found out that she wasn't following the rules they could suspend her license to have foster children. That wouldn't help anyone

"Look, I know you feel bad, but you have to look at the bigger picture. You could try and save one, and potentially lose them all. Or you could sacrifice one for the greater good."

She tried to remind herself of the greater good when she was forced to look Tre in the eyes and tell him that not only did he have to leave her home, his sister wasn't allowed to go with him. She tried to remember the bigger picture as she did her best to reassure him that it wasn't his fault he had to leave alone. She tried to think of all the children she was saving as she packed up his single bag and sent him to Aimee's car, doing her best to ignore the young boys cries of forgiveness. Tre was convinced that it was something he did. It had to have done something to make Mama Thornton send him away like this. She tried with all of her might to hold back her tears as she comforted Zoë, a little girl too young to understand why she couldn't go with her brother. Or why because of other people's mistakes was she now alone in the world at the tender age of four without a single family member in sight. But she couldn't, and that night she cried. She cried and she prayed for Tre, hoping that her sacrifice would be spared. She cried and she prayed for Zoë a little girl whose life would probably never be the same again. She cried and she prayed for all the children she would see on her doorstep in her lifetime. She cried and she prayed until there were no more tears left to shed, and no more hopes left unasked.

The sun had set and it was well into the evening before Aimee found a home with space available for Tre. Never did the little boy think when he awoke that morning that his life would take such a drastic turn. But it did. He now found himself standing on a new porch, just like he had a month earlier when he first moved in with Mrs. Thornton; but this place was nothing like Mama. Thornton’s. Though it was obviously bigger than her tiny little brownstone, it felt a million times smaller. As he stepped inside of his new home he was forced to step over and around toys that were left out of their place. His new foster mother Miss. Carol was a quarter of Mama Thornton's size, but not nearly half as sweet.

"Ya room is over here. You gon share it with lil Willie and nem. You'll seem em soon" she told him pointing to the only bed in the room without sheets and a blanket. "I got some clean ones in the laundry room; I'm gon go get em. Just move that stuff off the bed and put it on the floor, they can get it when they come in," Carol replied and came back before Tre could even ask the question.

So much had happened in his life over such a short period of time. Little did he know, it was only the beginning. In time he would see many more foster homes, some would be nice, though most weren't. Each home offering there own set of unique challenges that he would be forced to face alone.

` CHAPTER 2 | EYE OF THE STORM | PART 1

-Spring 1994

"Say there ain't no hope for the youth and the truth is / it ain't no hope for tha future / And then they wonder why we crazy / I blame my mother / for turning my brother into a crack baby / We ain't meant to survive / cause it's a setup / And even though you're fed up / ya got to keep your head up"


Tupac's words blazed through Tremaine's headphones telling his life story as he gazed at his reflection in the window. Slowly he caressed his chest where the fresh bruises that replaced old ones had finally begun to heal. He was used to the bruises; the physical pain didn't bother him. Anytime Tre doubted his existence he could rely on him to smack him back into reality. His voice was still ringing in his ear long after the fight was over.

"Your monkey ass is so fuckin' ungrateful! Don't you know you aint got nobody, `cept your crack head ass mammy and she don't want shit to do with you neither! I got a mind to put you the fuck outta my house, Mariah come and get this pussy ass muthafucka for I punch a whole in his muthafuckin chest!"

"Dame, c'mon now! He's just a fuckin' kid, you aint gotta always hit on him like that!" Mariah yelled. She was his foster mother, she was supposed to be his support; his protection. Instead she allowed her alcoholic brother to smack him around whenever he saw fit.

"Shut the fuck up young, for I smack your dumb ass too! You lucky we gettin' a check for these muthafucka's, or I'd put all of yall outta my goddamn house!" He never paid rent, didn't have a job, and yet this was his house.

He hadn't done anything to deserve the venom that Dame shot towards him, though he never needed a reason when Tre was involved. Tremaine told him that he was going to be home late, he had other things to do. But of course Dame didn't remember, and even if he had it still wouldn't have mattered. Tremaine was supposed to be where Dame wanted, when he wanted and it didn't matter what Tre had going on. The moment he saw Dame's face, he already knew to brace himself for the blows. He never tried to fight back; all that did was make everything worse. In his mind, he could handle the psychical pain; he'd gotten used to being hit years ago. Experiences like that came with the territory. It was the other stuff that he couldn't handle, the miscellaneous shit. The awful things he said to him, about him, about his mother tore him down and he was called him a pussy so often, Tre began to think that was actually his name. He hated Dame when he was angry, but he cursed his very existence when he was happy; that's when he really caused Tre pain; pain that became too unbearable. Just thinking about it made Tremaine nauseous. He was so tired of being his punching bag, tired of never having anything, he was tired of the gnawing pain; Tremaine was tired, period. That's why he was on the bus alone, once again being shipped off to a place where nothing was bound to change; same shit, different day as far as he was concerned.

It had been ten years since he had been taken away from his mother. It had been ten years since the last time he had seen his little sister. But it didn't feel like ten years, not unless you were counting in dog years. Ten times seven, yeah, it felt more like seventy years had gone by; like he had seen so much in such a short amount of time. Tremaine felt like he had already gone through everything he needed, experienced life as a child and an adult. Now here he was in his geriatric days just waiting for the grim reaper to come and rescue him.

Mariah's home was no longer the place for him, or at least that's what his case worker had told him. After nearly six years, it was time for their journey together to end. He needed a more secure place, one that could take care of him and his “special needs”. Bullshit. Tremaine wasn't as dumb as everyone liked to think he was and he knew enough to know that spots at the YTC were reserved especially for crazy motherfuckers. The Youth Treatment Center for Troubled Teens was a special place where they grouped together all of society’s misfits and delinquents until they were old enough to age out of the system and become someone else’s problem. It was a breeding ground for tomorrow’s drugs dealers and crack whores, his mother would be so proud.

"I'm going to miss you Tre," Mariah told him before he left, turning on the waterworks for his caseworkers sake. "I really hope you take care of yourself and get better." Tre didn't respond, he just stood statuesque and allowed her to wrap her arms around him into a hug.

He wasn't fooled; he knew that it was all a show and he continued to play his position. But he knew the truth. In the end the only thing Mariah was broken hearted over was the fact that she would be a few hundred dollars short every month, that and the fact that she lost her protective shield. As long as he was around Dame seemed to take less interest in smacking her around. Mariah, like everyone else, was just out to make sure that she would be alright. She was half the reason he was being sent to the nut house now. She knew the truth; Mariah knew what really happened in that house she wasn't blind. But not once did she do one thing to stop it. She would have to take responsibility for the part she played one day, and when she did, Tre hoped she got everything she deserved.

After what seemed like hours his bus finally stopped in front of an old building.

"Time to get off now!" the bus driver called back to Tre. It was the first time the old man had acknowledged his existence since he boarded the bus. Without saying a word or ever removing his headphones, Tremaine threw his knapsack over his shoulder and stepped off the bus into the smoldering sunlight. As soon as he made it off of the bus he was greeted by a man who worked for the YTC.

"How are you doing Mr. Lons?" the man asked extending his hand for Tre to shake.

He didn't respond and he didn't shake the mans’ hand. He wasn't here on vacation and he damn sure wasn't there by choice. Tre wasn't looking for anyone to pretend to care about him and he didn't need any friends.

"Well, alright then," the man begun, taking his hand back once he realized his gesture would not be reciprocated. "I'm Mr. Douglass, a lot of the kids call me Bishop, feel free to do the same if you like. Now you can follow me this way, and I'll show you were you'll be staying."

Bishop was a very handsome man. Tall and medium built; his physique resembled that of an action figure. It was easy to tell just by looking at him that he never had a hard time with females. As they made their way to his room Bishop made Tremaine familiar with all of their house rules.

"Curfew is at ten o'clock on schools days, and midnight on weekends. We expect lights out by midnight Sunday thru Thursday. Going to class is not an option, it's a requirement. If you are cut skipping class you will get written up, if your written up three times you will be asked to leave. All meals are eaten in the mess hall; no food is to leave that area. If you are caught with anything other than water in your room you will get written up. You are not allowed inside of the girls’ dormitory, if you are found down there, you will be written up."

"Damn is there anything you can't get written up for?" Tre mumbled to himself as they stopped in front of the door to his room. Bishop smiled but pretended not to hear as he continued to break down how their facilities worked.

"Fighting is not allowed, we have zero tolerance for it. If you are caught fighting you will be written up and dealt with accordingly. Any questions?"

Again Tre didn't answer. He simply nodded his head avoiding any and all eye contact with Bishop.

"Alright then, if you need anything my office is right at the end of this hall. You can go ahead and get yourself settled in. This is Gabriel; he's going to be your dorm mate. I'm sure he won't mind showing you around a little bit more." Bishop said pointing to the Puerto Rican boy who was occupying the other bed in the room.

"Sup?" Gabriel said nodding his head in Tre. Silently Tre returned the gesture and Bishop left the two of them alone to get further acquainted.

"Yo, what's your name?" Gabriel asked, swinging his legs to the other side of the bed so now the two were facing.

"Tre."

"Cool. Yo look its cool if you chill with me. I can help you get to your classes and shit. Show you how things run."

Tre didn't answer, he just shrugged his shoulders as if to say "Whatever, if that's how you want to spend your time."

"You not a talker huh?" he asked, receiving only a simple head shake no.

"You at least play cards?"

"Yeah. War."

"What rules you go by?"

Tre looked at him for a minute and thought before answering. "Aces beat everything."

"Aight cool." Gabriel said as he pulled out his deck and began to deal the cards.

Tremaine didn't come here looking to make friends, but something about he and Gab just worked. Tremaine wasn't a talker and that's all Gabriel did. He was one hell of a talker, and could maneuver himself in and out of just about any situation; the makings of a great con artist. He looked out for him in a way no one had in a very long time, so even though his mouth sometimes got on Tre's nerves, he was content with the companionship he provided.

****

Time passed and before he knew it, summer was already rolling around. Tremaine had been staying at the YTC for a few months now and even though he couldn't stand it he managed to stay out of trouble. "Keep your head down and your nose clean" was his daily mantra. He didn't want to be in any cliques and aside from Gab he made it painfully clear that he wasn't looking to make anymore friends. He just wanted to serve his time and age out so he could be on his merry way. He soon realized that it was a task easier said than done.

It happened on an afternoon when he found himself eating alone in the mess hall. His right hand man had himself a new girlfriend and was most likely somewhere around the school looking for an empty storage closet to consummate their relationship. Gabriel had his flaws, but one thing that Tre silently admired about him was his ability to book any girl he wanted. He admired it so much, that one day Tre out right asked him how he managed to get so lucky.

"It's not luck papa, its persistence," he said with a sly smirk. "I just never take no for an answer."

"What you mean you don't take no for an answer nigga? Your lil ass on some rape shit or something?"

His question made Gabriel burst into a fit of laughter. "Fuck no man! It's just like, when a chick acts like she aint interested, I keep on asking her. I just keep tryin' at a different angle. I never get rejected it just takes some chicks longer than others to realize how much they really diggin' me. Broads go for it every time. They like that confident shit."

"Young, yous a fucking con artist," Tre laughed.

"I'm serious! Papa I'm telling you, try it and I bet you won't be able to get these broads off your dick even if you wanted to. They be throwin' the pussy at you now, you dumb ass just don't see it!"

"Whateva nigga!" Tre said responding the only way he could.

He knew there was some truth to what Gabriel was saying, but he wasn't comfortable around females. He wasn't like Gab, just the thought of rejection made him sick to his stomach. So instead of ’grabbing his nuts and stepping up to the plate’ like Gabriel crudely suggested whenever the topic was brought up, Tre lived his life vicariously through his best friend. His feelings were safer that way.

"Aye young you sitting at my table!" someone said from behind interrupting Tremaine's train of thought. Tre recognized his voice before he even turned around. Cory was always looking to start a problem with Tremaine, feeling threatened because of the attention his girlfriend always showed him. But Tre never understood why. Melissa was beautiful, but Tre wasn't interested in her and he surely never reciprocated any of her forward advances. Those facts never stopped Cory from messing with Tre; in fact it seemed to only add more fuel to the fire. He thought about responding but decided against it. Instead he turned away from Cory and his friends, turning up his walkman as he continued to eat. There were several other empty tables scattered all around the Mess Hall and Cory was free to sit at any of them.

"Yo nigga I know you hear me talking to you!" he said, raising his voice as he shoved Tremaine roughly.

"Don't be putting your hands on me dude." Tre responded getting up from the table. 'Keep your head down and your nose clean' he thought to himself as he turned to walk away. He wasn't looking to fight, not over a female he wasn't even interested in and definitely not over a fucking table.

"Yeah that's right Shoestrings, walk away like the punk ass nigga you are."

His words stopped Tremaine in his tracks and he almost didn't believe he heard Cory correctly. "What the fuck you just call me?" he asked turning around slowly looking into Cory's smiling face. He knew he had him baited, now it was time to go in for the kill.

"You heard me Shoestrings! That is why you here aint it. Dumb motherfucker tried to hang himself with shoestrings how fucking stu-" he never got a chance to finish what he was saying. Before anyone could stop him, Tremaine was on top of Cory dealing out direct blows to his face. He couldn't believe he knew that and had the nerve, no the audacity to put his business out there for everyone to know. All over a bitch, a bitch he wasn't even interested in.

He knew there were people around him calling his name, begging him to stop. He could feel them pulling on his shirt wanting to pry him away from Cory. But they couldn't, he wouldn't allow them to. Repeatedly he continued to punch him in his face, bashing his head against the hard linoleum floor. He saw the blood but all it did was fuel his fire.

"You wanna talk shit? Huh motherfucker! Talk some shit now nigga! TALK SOME SHIT NOW!" he could feel his blood boiling and there was nothing he could do about it. Cory was going to die and Tre was going to be the one who killed him; that fact was evident. He was going to die for all the people who had ever mistreated him; his blood was going to be on Tre's hands and he would go to jail, the place he was destined to be; a place where he would finally fit in.

Tightly his hands began to close around Cory's neck and Tre was bracing himself for the moment where he would take his last breath; waiting for the moment that signaled the end of Cory's life and the beginning of his. But that moment never came. He was ready for it and yet it never came. It took two bodyguards and a teacher to pry Tremaine off of Cory, but finally he was allowed to gasp for breath.

"You crazy motherfucker!" was all Cory managed to say as he held onto his neck, still struggling to regain control of his breathing.

"Do somethin'!" Tre barked as the security guards continued to hold him back, doing their best to guide him out of the Mess Hall and into detention where he spent the rest of the night.


****

It was late and Tremaine's body was tired, but his mind was wide awake; the day’s events racing through his head. "Dumb motherfucker tried hanging himself with shoestrings..." He could hear Cory loud and clear in his thoughts. But Tre wasn't stupid; people just didn't understand the shit he had to go through everyday. The pain had just gotten too heavy; it seemed like the perfect way out. He wouldn't have to deal with the bullshit day in and day out, and no one had to be burdened with raising a delinquent; it could've been a win-win situation. If only it had panned out the way he planned it to.

"I'm so tired of niggas tryin' to play me!" he groaned.

"So stop lettin' them!" a voice said. Afraid Trey looked around unsure of where it came from.

"Yo' who said that?"

"I did nigga," the voice said again. This time Trey caught his reflextion in the door window and he was sure he was going crazy. He tried to ignore it, but the voice only got louder.

"That shit felt good didn't it. You punished that nigga and that's the way it should be! Stop letting muthafucka's treat you any which way. That ain't the way it’s `spose to be! Any nigga that step to you wrong need to get knocked the fuck back just like that nigga Cory. You `spose to be runnin' shit!"

"You think?" Trey asked his reflection unable to tune out the truth he was hearing.

"Nah nigga, I don't think I know. That ain't even your style though is it? Nah it ain't! I know your type young, you one of them lover not a fighter type of niggas. Don't even worry about it though dog, see `cause Hurricane got you know dude and it ain't gonna be no more of niggas thinkin' they gon take advantage."