“Argh, f**k!” Crackhead Jerome belted out and grabbed his hand in pain. Melvin had just sliced open his palm and it was oozing blood, drizzling on the ground. A couple of droplets hit the tip of his tattered Reboc sneaker. He balled his wounded hand into a fist and tucked it under his arm. “Goddamn it, sssss, f**k that s**t hurt! What the hell is your problem?”
“You can’t be creeping up on niggaz like that, homie. I thought you were somebody trying jack my ass out here. You know this hood’s rep?” “Of course I do.” He said in pain.
Crackhead Jerome squeezed his eyelids shut and clenched his jaws to fight back the fire in his palm. Afterwards, he peeled his eyelids back open and reached into the small of his back. He pulled out something wrapped in a
