A/N: First things first, I'd like to give a big shout out to my Demo-chan!!!! Yay Demo-chan!!!! Then to all my peeps who've been showin' me luve. YaaaaY!!! Ok, next on the docket, the fate of everybody's favorite nigglit; read, discover, and review! Not yet sure when this thing is finally going to earn itself an 'M' for situational hazards, but all in good time I guess. Besides for potty words, lemmie know what you think as far as the rating goes. All right ladies and gentle folk, here we go! I don't own Boondocks, but if I did, I'd prolly wouldn't be flying. Language, some violence O.o(ooooh).

"Thugnificent, why?? I thought it was all good!" The boy struggled against the hand that fisted his clothes.

"Bitch, I'll show you what's 'all good'." In a swift motion, a massive paw came around for a vicious backhand to the left cheek that drove Riley's head into the marble floor beneath him.

The boy blinked for a second, eyes rolling around in his head. His face was going numb with that odd prickly sensation; he could taste blood. Again Thugnificent grabbed a fist full of his shirt and jersey.

"You felt that? Betcha yo granddaddy ain't ever slap you in the mouth like that, huh?" He shoved the boy back onto the floor.

"THAT, was for lyin' ta me. Tch, this ain't no play-play boy; I am a real life grown-ass man. Don't FUCK wit me, ya heard?"

All Riley could do was stare at the man. His mind was still struggling to wrap itself around the pain in his face and the blood in his mouth.

"DO YOU HEAR ME TALKIN' TA YOU BOY??!!" The gangsta- rapper bellowed as he plunged a fist into Riley's tender belly. The boy jerked into fetal position immediately, wrapping arms around his middle with his forehead touching his knees. The child wreathed on the icy marble for several seconds, rolling from one side to the other as if the motion itself would somehow give back his violently stolen breath--his seizuring diaphragm refused to let him breathe at all. The only thing he could manage were a few strangled gasps that emerged in the sound of little morbid wheezes. Blood leaked out of his mouth through barely parted lips.

"Uh huh, that shit hurt don't it?" Thugnificent sneered. "Getcho ass up." He commanded as he yanked the gasping boy up by his arm to his feet. Grabbing Riley's face by the cheeks, Thugnificent forced the boy to look at him, blood and saliva running down Riley's throat from his up-angled head.

"Now, here's what chew'gunna do. You gunna go to the baffroom in the other room an' you gunna wash yo mouth out. Then, you gunna go home an' read a muthafuckin' book ok? I'm'll call yo ass tomorrow an' you g'wn bring yo ass back here and you ain't gunna delay, ya'heard me?"

Riley gurgled something that resembled an 'uh huh' and was released. Doing as he was told, he somehow staggered to one of the many bathrooms on the first floor. Inside, he took stock of himself in the mirror. His lip wasn't busted, but he did cut the inside of his mouth on his teeth pretty bad when Thugnificent struck him. A purple bruise, however, was already beginning to form on the left side of his face—something he'd have to explain if questioned about.

He grabbed the sides of the sink and leaned over it, trying to function with his still quivering stomach. Riley spit into the basin. The blood had been filling up his mouth had now covered most of the area around the drain. Turning the water on, he slurped some into his mouth by his hand and rinsed. By the eleventh rinse though, he figured he'd give up. The blood wouldn't stop until the cut started to heal. Drying his hands on the nearby toilet paper, he walked back to the main hall corridor.

"Remember what I said nigga." Thugnificent threatened, his eyes and head following Riley closely as he made his way for the door. The boy coward a bit as he walked passed the man who did nothing short beat him.

Walking across the street, Riley decided to detour away from his home. Reaching the nearby park where his grandfather and Ruckus would usually play chess, Riley sat at a picnic table. It seemed no one was around. Only when he got off his feet did his body begin to quake. In the midst of his shudders, the tears began to fall. He clenched his teeth as he tried in vain to suppress the sobs that added to all the shaking.

How the hell could this have happened? Why would Thugnificent do such a thing?

"Because you fuckin' lied to him and made him spend his cash stupid!" Riley answered himself miserably. Bloody saliva dripped from his bottom lip in long, sickening strands as he reeled in physical and mental anguish. Then at once, that all too familiar turn of the stomach had Riley vomiting all over his Timberlands. His head spun as he tried to keep control of his body which was not used to taking that level of abuse.

Bent over at the middle, Riley breathed hard as the blood on this palate combined with the bile caused him to vomit again—his strength and consciousness leaving out of him with the remaining phlegm.

When Riley finally came to, night had begun to fall. The cool of the evening air was chilling even further his already cold skin. How long had he been out? If he didn't get back home soon his family would start to worry. Climbing to his feet—he had fallen off of the picnic table's bench—he looked himself over in the failing daylight. While his boots were probably ruined by the stomach acid, it seemed as though he narrowly missed collapsing into his own puke. Feeling a bit more collected, he quickly headed for home.

On his way back, Riley had deduced it to be a little after seven, as that the shorting days of early August called for earlier nightfall. Alright, at least they wouldn't jump on him about being overly late coming home.

Riley sighed before turning his head back to the gaudily dressed estate that belonged to Thugnificent. A different kind of numbing feeling crept into him as he looked at the house.

Tomorrow, eh?

Inside, Riley made haste for the upstairs bathroom. Finding it unoccupied, he removed his shoes and placed them in the tub. He'd have to wash them of quickly or the smell would become obvious. Looking under the sink, he grabbed some of Grandad's bubble-bath and poured some over the suede. His shoes really were ruined now, but he didn't care, he just wanted the smell out. Pulling off his shirt and jersey, Riley went to look at himself in the mirror.

'Oh my gowd,' Riley thought as he saw his appearance. Good thing he didn't run into his brother or grandfather on the way to the bathroom because he looked like shit. Dried blood, saliva, and vomit crusted around his chin. His eyes were red and glossy and the strike mark across his face had enlarged and swollen. If that kept up, his eye would black. Reaching for the faucet, he turned on the water and attempted to rinse his mouth again—the incessant coppery taste was making him ill. With that done, he figured he'd take a shower…the scent of blood and puke on the skin was a definite eyebrow raiser.

Huey hadn't moved from his computer since earlier that afternoon. The reason because one, he was doing some special online shopping, and two, he had been stewing. While he had figured Riley was just being pissy when he cursed him, it still didn't change the fact that he did. Huey had plans on bringing it up without being overly direct, but he'd just wait to see what happened.

The soft click of the door jam brought the boy out of his musings. His brother, he assumed. Huey turned in his chair to speak with him, but was immediately taken aback when he saw Riley's swollen face.

"What the hell happened to you?"

Riley had known this was coming and had plenty of time to prepare both a plausible explanation and a believable delivery.

"It's called kissin' a pole nigga! Ye'don't need'ta rub it in." The younger boy replied as he laid back on his bed, the towel from his shower still wrapped around him.

"Well excuse me for wonderin'. See if I ever ask you if you a'ight again. How'd you do that anyway?"

Riley stared at the ceiling while placing his hands behind his head. "I was tryin' some stunts on my bike and misjudged. The pole was there and so was the side of m'face. The shit hurt like a muthafucka, end of story." He finished bluntly, his tone subdued.

"Well Riley, you really should try to--"

"NIGGA I'M TIRED OF YOU TELLIN ME WHAT I SHOULD TRY OR NEED'TA DO! You ain't moms Huey, so quit tryin' ta'be like you know so DAMN much! I get sicka dat shit! Just leave me the fuck alone some damn times!" Riley barked as he turned his back to his brother. He didn't want him to see the tears of his frustration and humility that curiously became free-flowing.

Huey scowled in disbelief. "What the hell is wrong with you Riley?" He challenged, flabbergasted by Riley's sudden outburst. "Alls I was gunna tell you was try an' be more careful, damn! I don't know why the hell you so damn angry all of a sudden, but don't take it out on me! I ain't did nuthin' to yo ass!"

"Whatever nigga." Was Riley's only response. Huey could only stare at his brother's as the young revolutionary struggled with the correct words for this situation. He didn't want to yell back without knowing just what exactly Riley's damage was, but he really didn't want to let Riley literally rollover on what he had said to him. After a few minutes passed, Huey watched as Riley stood and made his way to the dresser opposite the door. "So you gunna watch me change too?" Riley asked sullenly without turning around, grabbing a wife-beater and some boxers as he did.

"Naw nigga, you do what you do. I'm over here at my computer." Huey said quietly, having since decided to not engage his younger brother anymore that night.

Riley didn't respond as he let the towel drop. With the undergarments on, he crawled into his bed and pulled the covers up high. He didn't want to see or hear or do anything else that involved anybody else. His body was tired and so was his mind, but wasn't sure if he'd be able to sleep—terrible fears were just on the outside of his consciousness and felt his restlessness would be the only thing to keep them away. He was out of line to yell at Huey the way he did, and was doubly wrong to bring up their mother like that. He'd apologize later sure, but the thing most on his mind now was tomorrow. Even hard-headed Riley Freeman knew better than to put himself in harm's way, but the question was, what would happen if he didn't?

A/N: (giggles) Yeah, I know I'm bad! Trust me, this is just the tip of the iceburg. Later!