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MidReal Story
K
Scenario:A very well-known 15 year old 5'7 130Ibs male named "k5" who has a HUGE Bloodline and is on strict probation after a g*n charge & sent to YDC for 3 months but k5 does NOT follow his probation restrictions and he BARELY even be home with his mother and 2 older sisters with their oldest brother moving out 2 years prior & k5 also was EXPELLED from Mitchell County Middle School & spends most of ALL his time with his boys & girls (all ages 15-26)
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k5
He is a 15yearold boy with a troubled past. He is rebellious,impulsive,and charismatic. k5 was involved in a gun charge and was sent to a youth detention center. He has a large social circle,often spending time with girls and boys of various ages. Despite being on probation,he frequently disregarded his curfew and spent time with friends. His family struggled with stability,as his parents divorced when he was young,and his older brother moved out two years ago.
Brother (Oldest)
He is k5's older brother who left home two years ago. He is distant,independent,and authoritative. After moving out,he rarely maintained contact with k5 except for occasional family gatherings. His absence left a significant void in k5's life,leading him to rely more on his friends for support. The distance between the brothers was evident,affecting their familial bond.
Jasmine
She is a 17yearold friend of k5 known for her beauty and outgoing personality. She is friendly,bold,and confident. Jasmine often hung out with k5 and his group,participating in latenight activities without worrying about restrictions. Her close relationship with k5 highlighted her carefree attitude towards rules and social norms. She enjoyed being part of the group and frequently pushed boundaries.
My name is k5, I'm 15 years old, 5'7" tall, & weigh 130Ibs.
I have a huge bloodline & a lot of people know me.
I'm on strict probation for a year & was given a second chance after being charged with a gun charge & was sent to YDC for three months.
I got out six months prior & was supposed to follow all of these rules, but I barely even stay with my mom & two older sisters.
My oldest brother moved out two years prior & we barely even talk.
He's the only boy in the house, well besides me, & he left when I was thirteen, leaving me to be the man of the house at a young age.
I don't follow my probation curfew at all which is supposed to be at home by midnight, but I'm usually with my girls & boys until two or three in the morning.
My mom doesn't even bother to check on me or call me to see where I am or when I'm coming home because she knows she won't get an answer.
She's given up on trying to keep tabs on me because she knows she can't.
I'm very rebellious & extremely impulsive which gets me in a lot of trouble, but I don't let that stop me from doing whatever I want to do.
I slouch in the backseat of Mason's black Charger as we cruise down the empty highway toward Albany.
The dashboard clock reads 2:17 AM.
Up front, Mason's talking with Dex about some new connect they met through Jasmine last week.
In the seat next to me, Rico's half-asleep, nodding to the trap music playing low through the speakers.
The sodium lights flash across our faces as we pass through small towns.
My phone buzzes - probably Mom checking if I'm home - but I ignore it.
Mason takes the exit toward the south side, where rows of abandoned houses line the streets.
I lean my head against the window, watching the dark houses pass by.
My phone buzzes again, and I pull it out of my pocket.
The screen lights up with a string of missed calls from Mom and my sisters.
I roll my eyes and scroll through them.
Three days of crashing at different spots - Mason's guest room, Rico's couch, and now Jasmine's garage.
I don't even know what day it is anymore.
My phone says 47 missed calls.
The car slows down, and I look up to see Jasmine's house coming into view.
Mason pulls into the driveway, and we all pile out of the car.
Jasmine steps out of the front door, her long hair pulled back in a ponytail.
"Hey," she says, smiling at us.
"My parents will be home soon."
We all nod and follow her around to the garage in the back.
Inside, there's a small couch and a few chairs set up in a circle.
Jasmine pulls out a bottle of vodka from behind the couch and passes it around. I take a swig, feeling the burn all the way down my throat.
Rico pulls out his phone and starts playing some music.
We all sit down in the circle, passing the bottle around as we talk about everything that happened over the past few days.
I take another swig of vodka, feeling it start to hit me.
I lean back against the wall, watching everyone else laugh and talk.
After a while, I check my phone again - 3:47 AM.
I know Mom will be waiting up for me when I get home, no matter how late it is.
I stand up and grab my backpack from the corner of the room.
"See you guys later," I say, stuffing my phone into my pocket.
The street lights flicker on as I walk down the sidewalk toward home.
It's a long walk - about an hour - but I don't mind. The cool night air feels good on my face as I walk along the empty streets.
I stumble up to my bedroom window and push it open.
My head is still spinning from the vodka.
I hoist myself up and climb through the window, landing on my hands and knees on the floor.
The clock on my nightstand reads 4:52 AM.
I can hear Mom's muffled voice coming from downstairs - she's still up, on the phone with someone.
I lock my bedroom door and collapse onto my unmade bed, pulling my backpack close to me.
I fish out the Glock 19x that Mason's cousin sold us cheap last week.
It's a beauty - all gold with a black slide.
I scroll through Instagram on my phone, watching my follower count tick up.
A soft knock on my door startles me, and I shove the Glock under my pillow.
"Hey, you awake?" It's my sister, Lena, her voice barely a whisper.
"Yeah, what's up?" I reply, trying to sound casual as I sit up.
"Nothing, just wanted to say hi," she says, her voice muffled through the door.
"Okay, bye," I say, waiting until I hear her footsteps retreat down the hall before pulling the Glock back out.
I tuck it into my backpack and zip it up, then shove it under my bed.
I pull out my phone and open TikTok, scrolling through videos as I wait for the sun to rise.
The clock reads 7:52 AM.
I'm sitting cross-legged on my bedroom floor, surrounded by smoke and empty energy drink cans.
The joint between my fingers is almost finished - my fourth one since hiding the Glock.
My head is still spinning from last night's vodka, and the weed is making everything feel fuzzy.
I scroll through TikTok on my phone, watching videos of girls dancing and lip-syncing to popular songs.
The screen is blurry from all the smoke in the room, but I don't care.
Mom left for work an hour ago, and my sisters are still sleeping. The house is quiet except for the sound of my music playing low through my phone speakers.
I take another hit of the joint, feeling the smoke burn my lungs.
I lean back against my bed, watching the smoke curl up toward the ceiling.
The high hits me harder than usual, making my limbs feel heavy and disconnected from my body.
I try to stand up to get a glass of water from my nightstand, but my legs wobble beneath me.
I stumble forward and catch myself on my dresser, knocking over a stack of empty energy drink cans in the process.
Still high and unsteady, I grab my phone and dial DJ's number.
I need to get out of this hazy room before I pass out.
He answers on the third ring, his voice muffled by music playing in the background.
"Hey," he says, his voice slurred from drinking.
"Hey, can you come pick me up?" "What's up?" he asks, his voice a little more alert now.
"I need a ride," I say, stumbling over my words.
"Okay, give me ten minutes."
I hang up the phone and wait, watching the clock on my nightstand tick closer to 8:00 AM.
Ten minutes later, I hear the rumble of DJ's black Civic pulling up behind my house.
I stuff the Glock into my backpack and climb out my bedroom window, nearly slipping on the gutter as I drop down onto the grass below. DJ watches silently from behind the wheel as I stumble across the lawn toward his car.
The bright morning sun makes my head throb as I climb into the passenger seat.
The air conditioning hits my face as DJ pulls away from the curb and starts driving down Miller Street.
We pass by the old elementary school and turn right onto Jackson Avenue, heading toward his cousin Marcus's place in the Pine Grove apartments.
As we drive, I glance at the backpack on my lap, feeling the weight of choices yet to be made.