The afternoon felt normal.
Too normal.
Malik should've known that meant something was off.
He stepped out of the house, keys in hand, glancing back briefly before shutting the door. The sun was still up, casting long shadows across the block. Kids were playing, music echoed faintly from somewhere down the street, and a couple of familiar faces nodded as he passed.
"Yo, Malik."
He looked up.
Three of the guys from the block leaned against a parked car nearby.
"You heading out?" one of them asked.
"Yeah," Malik replied. "Just grabbing a few things."
They exchanged looks.
"Say less, we'll roll with you. Been inside all day anyway."
Malik hesitated for a second.
Then nodded.
"Aight."
It didn't feel like danger.
It felt like routine.
And that's what made it worse.
đź›’ THE STORE
The small convenience store buzzed with quiet activity. Malik grabbed what he needed—water, a few groceries, some things his mom had mentioned earlier.
Nothing out of the ordinary.
But his instincts were never fully off.
Even standing in line, his eyes moved.
Watching.
Checking.
That feeling again…
Like something was just slightly out of place.
The moment they stepped out—
Everything changed.
A car pulled up.
Too fast.
Too sudden.
Malik's eyes locked onto it instantly.
"Move—!"
GUNSHOTS.
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
The world snapped into chaos.
Malik dropped immediately, diving behind a parked car as bullets ripped through the air, glass shattering, people screaming and scattering.
"DOWN!" someone shouted.
One of the guys pulled out a gun, firing back.
Another followed.
The street turned into a battlefield in seconds.
Malik pressed low against the car, heart steady but sharp, calculating.
No weapon.
He didn't bring one.
Wrong move.
Another shot rang out—
Too close.
One of the guys grabbed Malik's shoulder, yanking him down harder.
"Stay down!"
BANG!
The impact came immediately after.
The guy jerked violently.
Then collapsed.
Malik turned quickly.
"…Yo—"
Blood.
Spreading fast.
The guy who had pulled him down… had taken the bullet.
For him.
"Yo! Yo, stay with me!" Malik snapped, grabbing him.
The shooting slowed.
Then stopped.
The car sped off.
Gone.
Just like that.
The street fell into a different kind of chaos.
Screaming.
Running.
Phones out.
People gathering.
"Call an ambulance!"
"He's hit!"
"Yo he's losing blood!"
Malik pressed his hand against the wound, trying to stop it.
"Stay with me," he said again, his voice tighter now. "You good. You good."
But the guy's breathing was off.
Too fast.
Too weak.
"Don't—" the guy tried to speak, coughing slightly.
"Don't talk," Malik said. "Just stay—"
"You good…" the guy muttered faintly. "…I got you…"
Malik's jaw tightened.
That wasn't how this was supposed to go.
Sirens echoed in the distance.
Getting closer.
The ride felt too long.
Even with sirens.
Even with speed.
Malik sat there, blood still on his hands, staring ahead as doctors rushed the guy inside the moment they arrived.
"Wait here," one of them said.
Malik didn't move.
Didn't speak.
The others stood nearby, silent.
No jokes.
No talking.
Just tension.
And fear.
A doctor walked out.
That alone said everything.
Malik stood up slowly.
"…He made it?" one of the guys asked.
The doctor hesitated.
Then shook his head.
"I'm sorry. We did everything we could."
Silence.
Heavy.
Final.
Malik didn't react immediately.
Didn't shout.
Didn't move.
Just stood there.
Because deep down…
He already knew.
News spread faster than fire.
"He got hit."
"They shot at Malik."
"They killed one of ours."
The energy shifted instantly.
No more normal.
No more calm.
Doors opened.
People stepped out.
Weapons were brought out.
"They think it's a game?"
"Nah… not today."
"They went too far."
Cars started pulling up.
Engines running.
People ready.
Not talking.
Just moving.
Malik's mom heard the news wrong.
Or maybe… she just feared the worst.
"They said Malik got shot…"
Her hands shook as she reached for her phone.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
Panic set in.
She immediately dialed another number.
"Zara," she said the moment the call connected. "Come home. Now."
Malik's sister didn't hesitate.
"I'm on my way."
"And listen," she added quickly, her voice breaking slightly, "Kairo is coming back from school soon… don't let him know anything. Please."
Zara moved fast, already grabbing her keys.
Then she remembered—
Dre.
She pulled out her phone and dialed.
He picked up.
"Yeah?"
"Dre," she said quickly. "Something happened. There was a shooting… Malik was there."
Silence on the other end.
"…What?"
"They said someone got hit. I don't know if he's okay."
Dre was already moving.
"I'm on my way."
Back at the hospital, Malik finally moved.
Slowly.
He looked down at his hands.
Still stained.
Still real.
That moment replayed in his head.
Over and over.
The pull.
The shot.
The fall.
That wasn't supposed to happen.
That wasn't his life anymore.
But somehow…
It followed him again.
Malik lifted his head slightly, eyes colder now.
Not emotional.
Not loud.
Just… decided.
Because this wasn't random.
This wasn't over.
And now—
It wasn't just about survival anymore.
It was personal.