Hey guys! I'm back again with another update! I got two chapters for you this time. This one is in Franklin's pov, hope you enjoy it :D


Franklin

The ambulance barreled hastily through the streets. Every head turned to follow the wailing siren, and the colorful streaks piercing the air. It's been hours since the paramedics took Tracey away.

Central Los Santos hospital was duller than I remembered. It was dark as hell in here. From the cracked ceilings down to the bland tiled floors, everything was washed out in gray. There was no openness, no room to stretch. The halls were so narrow and full of traffic with both feet and wheels, getting around was a struggle. The painted walls were chipped and flaking, revealing the concrete underneath. The stench of disinfectant grew stronger and stronger with every step I took further into the hospital.

There were voices in the distance, muffled and angry, yet familiar. A cold tremor shot down my spine. Every fiber of my being begged me to turn back. But I had to be strong. For her. Clenching my fists tight, I tried to remain calm. I can do this shit. I had to.

I made a left into Tracey's private hospital room. The door was gray, dull like all the others. There were people inside, doctors and nurses, and her family members—Michael, Amanda, and Jimmy. Trevor was here too. They surrounded her bed, so many bodies blocking the way, I couldn't get a clear view of her. Was she alive? Did the bleeding stop? Was she going to be okay? Was she awake? I had so many questions. I had to see her.

I approached the bed. Michael's eyes darted to me. There was a seething, bubbling hatred in his gaze, as if any second he would breathe fire out of his nostrils. My stomach clenched, and I took a step back.

"You have some fucking nerve showing your face here!" Michael shouted. Everyone turned from Tracey's bed, and stared at us, eyes wide with concern. His mouth twisted into an ugly sneer, Michael pointed at Tracey. "Look at her, man! Look at what you did!"

She was unconscious, unmoving, her skin more purplish than pale. There was a cast around her neck and arm, and wires were glued to her chest, trailing up through the neck of her hospital gown. If it weren't for the beep of the heart rate monitor, I would had thought she was dead. Somehow, she was still alive, despite the heavy blood loss.

"I've protected my daughter for twenty-two years!" Michael continued. "The moment you walk into her life, every precaution I took to protect her went straight down the fucking drain."

"Ay, chill the fuck out, man," I said. "Madrazo is to blame for all this shit, not me."

"You delusional little shit," he scoffed. "My little girl doesn't give a fuck about your aunt. She decided to go through with this stupid fucking plan because of you, Frank. All of this shit is your fault, and I swear to god, if my daughter dies…" He stepped up to me, his fists clenched and shaking. "I will fucking bury you, understand me?"

My blood boiled. I met his fierce glare with my own. "For real? You gonna kill my ass, huh? After everythin' we've been through, just like that?"

Michael lifted his fingers, imitating a gun, he poked the side of my head. "I'll put a bullet in your skull, just like that, and not think twice about it—"

"Hey, enough of that shit," Trevor gripped Michael's shoulder, and yanked him back. "We're at a hospital, assholes. Have a little class, will ya? If you're gonna kill each other, do it elsewhere, alright?"

"Fuck you, Trevor! You've never been a father, you have no idea what this feels like…"

As Trevor and Michael began to argue and exchange insults with one another as usual, Amanda clutched my arm, and dragged me out of the hospital room, into the hall.

"You should go," she said, her voice weak, and eyes watery. "I don't have the strength to deal with Michael's attitude right now, and you are only making it worse."

I frowned. "Yeah, but…"

"She's in a coma, Franklin. What were you and Michael thinking? How dare you use my daughter as bait! Are you insane? You were supposed to protect her, not throw her into the fire! My daughter is not a piece of meat, you idiot."

"My bad," I muttered, my voice low, harsh, sour emotion tying knots in my stomach. "I didn't mean for none of this shit to happen, a'ight? I did everythin' I could."

Covering her face with her hands, Amanda sighed heavily. "You should have done more," she said. "My daughter deserves better."

The guilt spilled over like gasoline in my guts, her words ignited a flame that burned me from the inside out. I was at a loss for words. I wanted to apologize, to tell her how fucking sorry I was, but there was a lump in my throat, preventing me from choking out a single word.

"Franklin," she said, "It hurts for me to say this, but Michael was right about one thing. Nothing like this has ever happened to our daughter until she got involved with you. So, do me a favor, will you? Stay away from her, or you'll regret it."

She turned away, and returned to Tracey's room, shutting the gray door behind her.


I tossed and turned in bed all night, floating in a pool of fucked up memories, thinking and not thinking, constantly replaying Michael's and Amanda's threats in my head. I didn't want the morning to come. But here it was, teasing me with its sunlight, warm orange rays peaked through the glass windows, blinding me.

Slow and reluctantly, I rose, dragging my feet off the bed, and rubbed my knuckles into my eyes. The trauma to my brain from the car accident was worse than I thought. I couldn't get the moment of impact out of my head. One moment I was bullshitting with Lamar, and the next, our car was flipped upside down on the pavement. Hao was pale, bloody and limp, the life had drained from his eyes in a split second, and all I could do was watch.

Tracey's screaming had torn through me like a knife, it made my blood run cold. She cried and cried, desperate and terrified. My eyes widened, my pulse quickened, adrenaline surged through my veins as I rushed to save her. There was so much blood, I thought sure she wasn't gonna make it. She wheezed, struggling to breathe, choking on her own blood… fuck, it hurt to watch. Her ashen face, delicate and wet with tears—the image was branded so deep into my mind, whenever I blinked, I could see her, helplessly wavering on the brink of death.

I couldn't save her this time. In that moment, I was powerless. I couldn't do shit.

Everything that happened was my fault. If it wasn't for me, she wouldn't had offered herself up to Madrazo for my crazy ass aunt. She wouldn't had turned her back on her family for me. It was all my fucking fault. All a nigga knew how to do was fuck a good thing up. I knew better than to get so close to her. I knew I'd ruin shit somehow. She was in a coma now, with no guarantee of ever waking up. I fucked up her life.

I've done a lot of bad shit, I had a lot to make amends for. Normally I could bury the regret and get on with my day, but shit was different now. The guilt was eating away at me, slow and unforgiving. It would seep into my head, and gnaw at the back of my mind, demanding to be analyzed. Problem was, no amount of analysis was gonna turn back the clock. Dwelling on my mistakes ain't finna change a damn thing.

I had to man up and accept shit for what it was, make better decisions next time around. No more letting my emotions cloud my judgement. No more pain or regrets. If I kept my distance from her, from everyone I loved, living with myself would be easier. That way, I wouldn't be able to fuck shit up like I usually do. I was used to being alone anyway. It was for the best.

Distancing myself was easier said than done though. I was stuck at my old crib with Auntie D and Lamar for now. My house up in the hills was still a wreck after Madrazo and his crew ran through it.

"Franklin!" Auntie D's booming voice echoed through the house. "Breakfast is ready! Bring yo' ass out here and come eat, boy!"

I sighed. I wasn't in the mood to eat anything, but I knew Auntie D wouldn't take no for an answer. The moment I entered the kitchen and sat at the dining table, she served me a giant plate of food. Pancakes, bacon and eggs, with a side of grits, and a glass of orange juice. Chop sat at my feet, staring up at me and slobbering, his hot breath on my leg. At least one of us was excited for breakfast.

"Damn, Auntie D," I took a whiff of the meal, and smiled. "You ain't cooked me shit in years. What's goin' on? What's gotten into you?"

"I'm tryna make up for lost time, boy," she said, wiping beads of sweat from her forehead. She slid into the seat beside me. "Now go on, eat. I was up all morning, sweating my ass off in front of that damn stove. I put my heart and soul into that food, so you best enjoy it."

"Good lookin' out, I appreciate it." I sunk my fork into the pancakes and rose a portion to my lips. Just as I was about to take a bite, the heat of Auntie D's stare stopped me in my tracks. "You really gonna sit here and watch me eat?" I asked. "You ain't poison my food or some shit, did you?"

"No, of course not, baby." For the first time ever, there was a softness in her voice, a gentleness I didn't know she was capable of. A shiver ripped up my spine. We've been in the same room for a minute now, and she hasn't called me worthless, or told me to shoo, or asked me to rub her nasty ass feet. What the fuck was going on? It was like I woke up in the Twilight Zone or some shit.

"I never got a chance to thank you for what you did," she said. "There's a lot of bad blood in this family, boy. But you still came through for your ol' auntie." She cupped my cheek. "You're a good boy, Franklin."

"Ummm…" My gaze dropped to my plate. "Thanks, I guess."

"Yo!" Hyper and high as always, Lamar shuffled into the room, a wide smile on his face. "What it is, family?"

Auntie D's eyes brightened at the sight of him. She stood, and like magnets, they rushed to one another—hugging and snuggling, whispering shit in each other's ears. They kissed, and my flesh crawled. Disgusting.

"Ay, can y'all save that nasty shit for the bedroom?" I grumbled, my nose wrinkled. "Don't nobody wanna see all that, man."

"You trippin', Frank," Lamar said. He pulled away from Auntie D, and swiped a strip of bacon from my plate. "Ain't nothing nasty 'bout getting some early morning lovin'. Love is a beautiful thing, dog. I ain't afraid to show it, there ain't nothing to be ashamed of, you feel me?"

"For real? The fuck you know 'bout love, man?"

"Plenty of shit," he said.

"Lamar is well versed in the language of love, boy," Auntie D added.

"You can learn from me, my nigga," Lamar said. "You a rigid, heartless ass motherfucker and that shit pains me. It ain't too late to change."

"Yeah, okay, nigga," I rolled my eyes.

"Lamar, don't you be talkin' 'bout my nephew like that," Auntie D pinched my cheeks. "You're a sweet little boy, you don't need to change for nobody."

I jerked back, my face burning with heat. "Chill," I muttered, trying to stifle my urge to grin. Lamar was chuckling too. Damn, this shit was awkward. Although her sudden, loving demeanor was weird, real weird, it was cool to know she was capable of not being so fucking angry all the time. Maybe Auntie D ain't so bad after all. Still, it was gonna take some getting used to.

"How's the renovations on your house going?" Auntie D asked.

"Good," I said. "That shit cost an arm and a leg, but it should be done soon."

"You don't belong up there with them rich white folks, boy. I've been looking at properties down in the country, by the Alamo Sea—it's real nice over there. Fresh air, nature, and a whole lot of land for cheap. Why don't you stay with your auntie? We can live somewhere nice for a change. I'll take care of you, baby. I can be the momma you ain't never had."

"Nah," I scoffed. "No offense, but it's a little too late for all that, Auntie."

"Well, the offer still stands in case you change your mind. Now finish your food, child. Me and my man are going out, we'll be back tonight." She took Lamar's hand, and strolled out of the kitchen.

"Where y'all fools going?" I called after them.

"We got a date!" Auntie D shouted.

I cringed, the thought of Lamar's dumb ass going on a date with my old ass aunt was straight up fucking weird. Hopefully the renovations on my crib were done soon. I wasn't sure how much longer I could put up with their bullshit. Thankfully they were leaving, so I could have the house to myself for a while.

I spent most of the day on the couch with a blunt between my fingers, my eyes glued to the flickering television. Chop laid beside me, watching TV too, his beady eyes followed the actors on the screen. I wasn't sure why I was watching it, I barely followed the plot, I didn't laugh when I was supposed to, I didn't feel any tension during the drama. My mind was elsewhere, still dwelling on my past fuckups, regurgitating bullshit I couldn't change. The weed wasn't helping. Instead, I found myself drowning again, being dragged deeper and deeper into a sea of dejected thoughts and remorse.

Maybe it was a good thing, to feel something besides emptiness, or the usual short bouts of anger I couldn't control. Somehow, all the scars I acclimated over the years hasn't bled the humanity out of me yet.

I yawned, and rubbed my sore eyes. Staring blankly at the television screen wasn't doing me any good. I grabbed the remote and shut it off. Without the white noise of the TV, there was a stillness in the air. No traffic or voices to be heard outside, every breath I took seemed to die the moment it left my lips. The neighborhood was quieter than usual tonight, eerie almost. There was no one around, not even Chop. Where'd little homie run off to? I coulda sworn he was just here a second ago…

The silence had me on edge. The house felt so empty and dead. I wanted Lamar and Auntie D to leave, but now that they were gone, being alone became a misery rather than a salve. I needed some company. I dug into my pocket and withdrew my phone. I scrolled through my notifications, and let out a heavy sigh. Six missed calls from Trevor, three from Jimmy, and one from Michael.

Michael called me? Why?

Nose scrunched up and brows furrowed, I gaped at my phone. He left a voicemail too. I was tempted to listen, but considering how mad that motherfucker was last time we spoke, it probably wasn't the best idea. I had enough shit weighing on my conscience already. The last thing I needed was him threatening me over the phone, throwing salt in wide open wounds—fuck that. I doubt the message had anything to do with Tracey, he didn't want me anywhere near her. I turned my phone off, and set it aside. The voicemail could wait.

Ding-dong!

The doorbell rang and rang, the harsh, shrill noise jerked me from my seat. Auntie D must have recently replaced the batteries, the ring was loud enough to wake the whole damn neighborhood. Desperate to stop the annoying fucking ringing, I strode to the door and yanked it open.

My breath hitched in my throat as I laid eyes on the unexpected visitor. "Tanisha?"

"Franklin?" Rouged cheeks flaming, she took a startled step back. Her eyes were bloodshot. Has she been crying?

"You a'ight?" I asked.

"I'm looking for Denise," she stated. "She here?"

"Nah." I glanced at my watch. "She should be back soon though."

"Where she went?"

"She went out with Lamar."

"For what?" She sniffed the air, and glanced over my shoulder. "Y'all got weed up in there? Or some lean?"

I furrowed my brows. "What's good with all the fuckin' questions? You down with the feds or some shit?"

"Nigga please," she rolled her eyes. "Do I look like I'm down with the fucking feds?"

"I dunno, girl. You ain't been around the hood in a while, and now you showin' up out of the blue, lookin' for some damn weed and cough syrup. A motherfucker got a right to be suspicious—"

"Damn Franklin, yo' ass ain't change one bit, you know that?" She smiled. "Look, I really ain't in the mood to argue with you tonight. I heard about the shit that went down between you and the Mexicans. I'm worried about y'all, alright? I thought maybe we could kick it one last time, for old time's sake. So what it do? You gonna let me in or not?"


Tanisha lounged on the couch, her dark hair lying over one shoulder of her leather jacket. With a glass of wine in one hand, and a rolled blunt in the other, she lolled her head to the side, licking her plump red lips as she gazed at me.

"I still can't believe it," she chuckled. "Your aunt and Lamar together? That ain't gonna last long. Everybody know Lamar ain't no damn good. I love him to death, but that fool been a trifling ass nigga since the day he was born. Denise gone and lost her damn mind."

I sat beside her, carefully rolling my blunt wrap with weed, smoothing out the wrinkles. "Auntie D ain't have no damn mind to begin with," I said. "Neither does Lamar. Them crazy motherfuckers are perfect for one another."

"What about you? How you been? What you been up to?"

"Oh, you know, just been chillin'. Same old shit."

"Same old shit, huh? Like gangbanging? Robbing and stealing? Being a menace to society?"

"Nah, everythin' but that. I don't bang no more."

"You ain't got to lie," she teased. "Remember that time we went to that party on Grove Street with Lamar, and found out it was a Ballas gang initiation?"

"Fo' sho'," I smiled. "Some Balla bitch at the party told us initiation for rival gang members was to get stomped to death by nine niggas, and if you survive, they let you in. Most motherfuckers didn't make it. Lamar's dumb ass was still with it though."

She laughed, lightly, she touched my arm. "Lamar wanted to be part of The Families, and the Ballas at the same damn time. He thought he was low with it too, like everybody didn't see all them big ass Families tattoos on his arms. They were brand new too, all red and shit."

"Man, we was 'bout to get our asses beat. We had to get the fuck up outta there. But no cabs would stop for no scary, gangly looking motherfuckers like me and Lamar, so we had to walk. Lamar was having a fit the whole fuckin' time, like he wanted them dudes to stomp a mudhole in his ass."

"Right?" She nudged me playfully. "Oh, remember when we made it back to Chamberlain Hills, and stopped at the chicken spot? Lamar so was drunk and high, he fell asleep at the table."

"And we left his ass there," I snorted. "His moms called us like fifteen minutes later, askin' where he was. We told her the last time we seen him, he was at the chicken joint."

"We shouldn't have left him," she snickered. "He came to school the next day tore up, with a black eye and knots all over his head."

"I thought the Ballas did it to him. I started plottin', making moves to hit them niggas back. Come to find out, it was his momma that whooped his ass."

Tanisha bursts out into laughter, her drunken giggles so contagious that I couldn't help but crack up too. Every snort and cackle we let out chipped away at the tension between us, until only calmness and good vibes remained. There was something about her laugh, and the wide, rosy smile on her face. It warded off the loneliness, distracted me from the pain, and all the fucked up shit I've been going through lately.

Before long, she was in my arms, snuggling close, her warm breath on my neck. "Man, those were some good times," she said. "We were so young, but it was good. I was happy back then."

"You ain't happy no more, girl?" I asked.

"I mean, the truth? I was the happiest around you. I wasn't stressed. I felt like I was the baddest bitch around. I felt free…" She sighed heavily, "What happened to us, Franklin?"

"We grew up. Well, you did."

"I got tired of the hood life, so I left, only to realize the grass ain't much greener on the other side. That fairy tale crap they be callin' the 'American Dream'—children, white picket fences, and a fucking station wagon… it ain't for me. I feel like I've been living a lie for months now, tryna be someone I ain't, to please some rich ass nigga I don't even love. I want things to be simple again." Her manicured fingers cupped my chin, our eyes met. "I miss how things used to be between us."

I've seen Tanisha sad a million times, angry even more. When she was pissed, her thin brows would crease, and her plump lips would curve into a snarl. But shit was different now. For the first time in a long time, there was a twinkle in her eye when she looked at me. She was happy, genuinely happy, like she used to be back in the day, when we were high school sweethearts, young and naïve, full of life.

The good memories we shared flashed through my mind. I was innocent back then, with too much time on my hands. We spent hours on the corner just talking, laughing, making stupid jokes, and getting into trouble. When we weren't on the block chilling, I was at home, tripping over love songs, missing her. Shit really was good back then.

Tanisha drew close, her soft lips brushed over mine. It was a light kiss, restrained, her heavy, quaking breath carried the scent of alcohol. "Tell me I ain't the only one feelin' this way," she muttered. I froze, speechless, her lips continued to caress mine, her slender fingers stroked my chest, gentle and shy, as if this were her first time.

I wanted things to be like it used to be, when were teenagers. I wanted to be in love with her like before. But I wasn't. I didn't feel anything for her. Her touch didn't feel the same, her kisses felt wrong, she wasn't the same person I fell in love with. And I wasn't the same dude. I changed, and she did too. Tanisha was a married woman now. Whatever problems she had going on with her man, she needed to take her ass home and work that shit out.

My heart belonged to someone else. I'm done trying to deny that shit. The truth's never been clearer until now.

I shifted from her grasp, and pulled away. "I… I can't do this shit with you, girl. I'm sorry."

"N-no, I'm the one who should be sorry," Tanisha said, her voice cracked with emotion. "I made a mistake." Tears brimming on her eyelids, she stood, and swiped my weed off the table before storming out of the house in a hurry, her heels clicking against the floor with every frantic step.

I snorted, and shook my head. Usually, I'd be mad if someone stole my weed and walked out. But I let it slide this time. Tanisha looked like she needed the high a lot more than I did.


It's been days since Tanisha left. I lost track of how many, I kept myself locked away in my room most of the time, doing absolutely nothing besides sleeping. I didn't want to go anywhere, I didn't want to do anything, despite how much Lamar begged me to. Time seemed to slowly trickle away, my life slipping through my fingers. Worst part of it all, I didn't care.

Lamar and Auntie D have been arguing every night now. He's been sleeping on the couch lately. I wasn't sure how each argument started, or what they were about, but their muffled, booming voices made the walls of my room quake. It's been hard to get any sleep with so much commotion going on.

I visited Tracey today. It would be better for everyone if I kept my distance, but shit wasn't that simple. I missed her. Luckily, no one was around when I dropped by. She was in a deep sleep still, although her wounds seemed to be healing. The bruises on her face and neck were fading. I left flowers at her bedside, and the panda I won for her at the Vespucci Beach festival. It was a risky move. Michael was agitated enough already, if he found out I was here, he'd most definitely try to kill me.

But fuck it, it was worth it. She loved that panda bear. Maybe the little guy could watch over her for me. I could sleep easier knowing she always had a friend at her side, even if it was just a stuffed animal. It meant a lot to her regardless.

It was a sunny day in Los Santos as usual. Traffic was a motherfucker on the way back to my aunt's crib, I should had known better than to drive during rush hour. It took me about an hour to get home. The moment I pulled into the driveway, I noticed something was… off.

The front door was wide fucking open, not a good sign, especially in the hood. A cold tremor shot down my spine. Auntie D was way too paranoid to leave doors open, especially the front. I drew my pistol from the waistband of my jeans, better safe than sorry. Cautiously, I approached the house.

Stepping through the door, for a moment, I thought I was in the wrong place. There was no furniture in this motherfucker. The living room couch was gone, and the TV, all the tables and chairs disappeared, even the fucking family pictures on the wall were missing. Did somebody rob us? Who the fuck steals family pictures?

Throughout the empty house, slight noises echoed. Moving along the wall, quietly, I tailed after the muffled sound. Auntie D's bedroom door was open to a crack. There was someone inside, light footsteps shuffled against the carpeted floors from within. Heartbeat racing and gun raised high, I eased the door open.

Lamar cringed, all alone in my aunt's empty ass room, his eyes widened at the sight of my gun. "What the fuck, dog? I thought we were cool, man. You that mad about me smashing your auntie?

Exhaling loudly, the tension left my body. I lowered my gun. "Now that you mention it, I should put a cap in yo' silly ass for fuckin' around with my auntie. You a lowdown, dirty, skeleton in the closet ass motherfucker for keepin' that shit a secret so long."

Lamar sucked his teeth, and waved a hand at me dismissively. There was a handwritten letter in his grasp. It looked like Auntie D's writing. "You the only motherfucker up in here, Frank," he said, "waving guns around, tryna intimidate your boy. Better luck next time, bitch. I wasn't even scared."

"Man, you just about pissed yourself, nigga. Where the fuck is all our furniture at? Somebody robbed our shit?"

"I dunno what happened, homie. I remember being real drunk last night, passed out on the couch, and when I woke up, I was on the floor. Motherfuckers musta swiped the couch right from under me, man."

"What?" I snatched the letter from his grip. "The fuck you doin' with this? I know yo' stupid ass can't read for shit."

"My baby wrote me that shit." He tried to yank it from my hand, but I shoved him back. "Damn man, that's a love letter right there. Respect my privacy, ol' nosy ass bitch—"

"Shut yo' ass up and let me read, fool." I skimmed over the letter. Thankfully, it was short, and straight to the point.

Dear nephew, and that cheap ass, two-timing, scandalous ass fool Lamar,

If you're reading this, you must know I'm gone. You might be real confused right now. Mad too. If you are, good. Stay mad. And don't follow me, I need to be alone. Franklin, you can keep the house, boy. Lamar, you can just pack your stuff and get the hell on, fool.

Sincerely,

Auntie Denise.

P.S. I know y'all knuckleheads will look for me regardless. If you do, just don't bring y'all asses to Sandy Shores, 'cause I ain't gonna there. Have a nice life.

"This ain't no love letter, stupid," I muttered. "Did you even read this shit? It's a goodbye letter, dog. She's gone."

"What?" He grabbed the letter, and focused hard, his eyebrows scrunched together as he studied the page. Once he was done reading, the page slipped from his fingers. He winced, his stare glossy for only a moment before he blinked the tears away. "T-that P.S. she put up in there look real suspicious, homie. You think she in Sandy Shores?"

"She can be on the moon for all I fuckin' care. I ain't gon' spend the rest of my life chasin' after her ass. Whatever drama you got goin' on with Denise, leave me the fuck outta it."

"I ain't never left you out of a damn thing, man. We boys, remember? Homies for life." He clasped my shoulder, and gazed at me with bloodshot, pleading eyes. "Where you go, I go, and vice versa, y'know what I'm sayin'? I'm about to be out to Sandy Shores to find my girl. You down to ride, or nah?"


And that's a wrap. Hope you're enjoying the fic so far! Nine chapters down lol, man we've come a long way. Leave a review, honest feedback is always welcome :). Thanks so much for the support y'all, please let me know what you think, you guys are the fuel that drives me to continue this fanfic! I need to hear your opinions!