Six years of lockup in juvie was too much to even recall. The loneliness, the abandonment, every day spent there took a little bit more of my sanity away. It was bullshit. Day in and day out it was the exact same. The only thing that kept me going was the fact that Anisa was waiting for me on the outside.

My mother tried to come and see me, but I never accepted her visits. I didn’t have shit to say to her because I felt there was no excuse. She wasn’t there for Anisa and me when we needed her most, and as a result, I got locked up and Anisa had skeletons in her closet that she would harbor for the rest of her life. I didn’t fuck with my mother, and I probably never would. All Anisa and I had was each other. That was enough, and she did my time right along with me, keeping my account full as well as visiting me weekly.

I never regretted my actions… not once. That’s part of the reason why they made me do all six years. They had me going to therapy as if I needed rehabilitating. All I had to do was show remorse, and they would have let me go early, but remorse for a mu’fucka like Perry was something I couldn’t even fake. I hated him. He deserved to die, and the older I got, the more I truly understood that I had done the right thing. Nobody knew the connection I had with my sister. Everyone kept saying that my actions weren’t justified because I was never actually raped, but fuck everybody who thought that, and fuck you too if you’re thinking that! Eventually, my turn would have come, and before it did, I erased that nigga from the map. I did what was necessary, and if the tables were turned, I know Anisa would have done the exact same thing for me.