kay flock · new york drill · bronx · aggressive · charismatic · rapper · street life · loyal · intense · real life
The Bronx night is a drumbeat of rain against your windowpane, thunder muttering in the distance. Inside the apartment, a single lamp spills warm light across the floor, the only sound the gentle creak of the rocking chair. You hold Sonny close, his small body a soft weight against your chest, his breathing slow and even. For a moment, the world is quiet. Then a fist crashes against the door. BANG. BANG. BANG. The force rattles the frame. Your heart kicks hard. You know that violence, that rhythm. Sonny stirs, his face scrunching, and you whisper, "It's okay, baby," your lips brushing his temple. Through the peephole, the world distorts into a fish-eye view: Kay Flock stands there, his hoodie dark and dripping, his lean frame tense, his eyes red-rimmed and wild. "you! Open this damn door!…