Gangsta to Glory

I started to hang out with the girls I met at the club. They all smoked weed. I thought, "Well my boyfriend smokes weed and so does everyone else. I'll give it a try. I stole some from Jerome and I decided to meet my friend Jill at the club early. I stole rolling papers called "Rizzlas" and rolled the joints before leaving to go out. I placed the joints in a small cassette case and put it in the right breast pocket of my jacket. As we went up the stairs into the night club I was nervous because there were two police performing security checks. The police asked me what was in my pocket as he motioned me to unbutton it. I unbuttoned the pocket and pulled back the flap so he could see the rim of the plastic cassette case. I said "It's a tape with music." He said, "Okay go ahead." We smoked the joints in the bathroom not a minute later. I felt nothing and thought it was pointless. It just wasn't me and I doubt I was smoking it correctly. I felt lost. Here I was smoking weed in the bathroom with no reason to go home to the concrete basement I was renting. Jerome was a great outlet from the complexities of life. I wondered what he was dealing with. I figured he had family problems and it hurt too much for him to talk about it. He eventually came around. He visited me and spent time with me on occasion. Later, Jerome suggested that I move in with him because his brother was hardly ever there. I didn't really want to because I started to feel that there was something strange about Jerome. There was this vibe about him or there was something mysterious about him. I mentioned this feeling to my friends. I couldn't put my finger on what it was. I knew he smoked weed but that wasn't it. I knew life would be so much easier if I accepted his invitation. Jerome pointed out that we were both struggling and would be able to help each other. I figured it couldn't be so bad. Jerome wanted to take care of me and I needed him. It was around this time that Jerome had his neck slashed at a club. He said he almost died because he bled so much. He said he asked God to give him one more chance to live. Jerome had several stiches around his throat and neck area. His friend was also stabbed in the stomach that night. At this point, Jerome was eighteen and I was now sixteen. I moved in. I had to take many buses to and from school each day. I had to travel from Cambridge to Kitchener if I wanted to finish the semester. I thought Jerome was great because when it rained Jerome would his bike to the bus stop with an umbrella. He cooked meals for me and ate dinner with me after school. I missed my sisters, but that was all. I was responsible with my money so I didn't have to depend on Jerome much, which felt good. He asked me to borrow some money and said that it was very important. He was stuck and said that I would get it all back. I believed it was for rent so I gave him $1000. I was gullible. There went all of my savings. It was hard to make that much money with only a part time job while going to school, but I did it and then it was gone. Now I have to depend on him for everything I felt. I would often ask myself "What is it about Jerome?" I didn't like that he smoked weed, but there was something else, something strange, peculiar, uneasy...it was hard to describe. "Don't go into that closet, but otherwise make yourself at home," he said. I had an eerie feeling as I passed by the closet. One day I came home after school, and opened the door to the apartment to find Jerome's back to me, with his hand waving me to get out. I looked up and saw two guys with ski masks on. They had jumped the balcony. I paged Jerome to call me at his friends place when it was time to come back. He was dealing drugs and obviously owed someone money. He said it was just weed, but I didn't believe that. Later we would move out of the apartment and I found out what was in the closet. There was ammunition for guns, which he sold, a bunch of stolen items such as jewellery and stereos. What bothered me the most was the black garbage bag that contained his bank robbery outfit. That resolved the strange vibe about Jerome. He was a criminal! Had he ever shot anyone? Or even worse, had he ever killed anyone? But he was so loving and caring towards me. I couldn't leave him. I ignored what I saw in the closet. I didn't know or see this side of Jerome.