1987
Compton, California
In a small, weathered house nestled between two busy streets, the sounds of an argument echoed through the walls. Tupac Shakur, a 16-year-old boy with dreams stretching far beyond his surroundings, faced off against his mother, Afeni. The tension in the room was palpable, thick with frustration and hurt that had built over the years.
"Mom, you promised! I saw you using again when Sekyiwa and I were at school," Tupac shouted, his voice trembling with a mix of rage and fear. "How can you say you're done when I see you like this? If you keep this up, you might die! Do you even understand what that would do to us? To her?"
Afeni, her eyes shadowed with fatigue, stood defensively with her arms crossed. "I'm trying, Tupac! It's not easy! I just need a little time," she pleaded.
"Escaping isn't going to fix anything! You have to fight this, for yourself and for us!" he insisted, frustration rising. "Sekyiwa looks up to you. What happens when she sees you like this? She might think it's okay, like it's something normal."
His words hung heavily in the air. Afeni shifted her weight, guilt and frustration mingling in her expression. "I don't want that for her," she murmured. "But it's hard."
At that moment, Sekyiwa, 17, peeked into the room, her small frame filling the doorway. She had been listening, sensing the tension that had become all too familiar. "Tupac, please don't yell," she said softly, stepping closer. "Mom's trying her best."
Tupac softened slightly, glancing at his sister. "I know, Sekyiwa, but this is serious. I don't want you growing up thinking this is normal."
Afeni looked at Sekyiwa, her heart aching at the sight of her daughter's worried face. "I love you both," she said, her voice trembling. "I'm trying."
Tupac took a deep breath, his frustration giving way to concern. "Mom, if you keep using, it'll destroy us. You're the one who needs to be strong. We need you!" He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on him.
Suddenly, in a burst of anger, he grabbed the small bag of drugs from the table and threw it against the wall, where it burst open, scattering its contents. "You can't keep doing this! Look at what it's doing to us!"
Afeni flinched at the sound, tears welling in her eyes. Sekyiwa stepped forward, putting a hand on Tupac's arm. "Please, don't fight. We can talk this out. Mom loves us, and we love her."
Tupac took a deep breath, his frustration
They he run to his room in the angry.
Were his mother had a guilty face because she that how much Tupac love him as his mother. Then his sister brings the dinner in the room because he hasn't eaten anything. Sister " bother mom made for favourite food for you open the door"
Under the dim light of the living room, Tupac felt the weight of his decision pressing heavily on his shoulders. The flickering glow cast long shadows on the walls, accentuating the uncertainty that loomed in the air. He stood for a moment, heart racing, contemplating everything he was about to leave behind. The silence in the house felt thick, almost suffocating, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath, waiting for him to make his move.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped quietly toward his sister's bedroom, each creak of the floorboard amplifying his nerves. He hesitated at the door, his heart pounding in his chest. He hadn't realized his mother, Afeni, was lying beside his sister, both of them probably already sensing his intentions. Tupac had chosen to avoid going to his mom's room, knowing that if he looked into her eyes and saw her tears, he might lose the strength he needed to leave. The thought of causing her more pain twisted in his gut, but he had to be strong; he had to carve his own path.
Pushing the door open slightly, he peeked into the dimly lit room. His sister lay nestled under her covers, her face illuminated by the soft glow of a nightlight. Afeni was beside her, her head resting against the pillow, lost in a light sleep or perhaps a troubled dream. Tupac knelt beside his sister's bed, careful not to wake his mother, and spoke softly, aware that Afeni could still hear him. "Tell Mom I'm leaving the house," he urged his sister, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside him. "Tell her I'm not going because of her struggles with drugs; I just need to get out there, to make a change in this life."
He leaned closer, his eyes searching his sister's for understanding. "I want you to go to a good college, become a doctor, and give Mom the life she deserves, like a Black queen in a big castle. She'll always be my Black queen." Each word felt like a promise, a vow he was making not just to her but to himself. He took a deep breath, trying to steady the lump forming in his throat. "Take good care of her for me. I'll always stay in touch—here's my number." He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, the ink slightly smudged from sweat and nerves, and handed it to her.
His sister looked up at him, her eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. "Brother," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You can take my piggy bank. I've been saving for something special, but I want you to have it."
Pac felt a rush of warmth in his chest at her gesture, but he shook his head with a soft smile. "I don't need it, sis. You keep it and get that book you've been saving for." He pressed a few crumpled bills into her hands instead, the meager amount he had managed to set aside. "Hold on to this. It'll help you get that book."
With one last glance at her innocent face, he stood up, lifting his worn backpack onto his shoulder. The bag felt heavy with more than just clothes and belongings; it was filled with hopes and dreams, aspirations that he had for himself and his family. He turned to face the door, each step toward it feeling like he was stepping away from a part of himself.
He walked slowly, each creak of the floorboard seeming to echo the cries of his heart. He could hear his sister's quiet sobs behind him, the sound slicing through him like a knife. He turned slightly, seeing her small frame shake under the covers, and his heart ached for her innocence. Afeni, however, stood silently in the shadows, her figure barely illuminated by the faint light. Her eyes were red but dry, holding a steely resolve that only came from years of struggle. She had always been strong, and in that moment, he realized she understood that he had to follow this path, even if it meant leaving her behind.
With a final, heavy look, he stepped out of the house, feeling the cool night air hit his face. It was a stark contrast to the warmth inside, and he inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of the streets of Compton. The familiar scent of asphalt and distant car exhaust mixed with the faint sounds of life outside. He paused for a moment on the porch, feeling the chill of uncertainty wash over him. This was the world he had always known, yet it felt so foreign now.
As he walked away from the house, he glanced back one last time. The silhouette of his mother and sister blurred in his vision, their figures representing everything he was leaving behind. The tears in his sister's eyes and the silent strength in his mother's stance filled him with conflicting emotions—love, sorrow, and a fierce determination to make things better. He carried their hopes with him, each step forward echoing with the promise he had made: to change their lives for the better.
The streets of Compton stretched out before him, a labyrinth of possibilities and dangers. As he walked, he thought of all the times he had spent with his family, the laughter shared, and the struggles endured. The memories fueled his determination, igniting a fire within him that pushed him forward. He was stepping into the unknown, but with every stride, he felt more certain of his purpose.
As the night deepened, the stars flickered overhead, twinkling like distant dreams waiting to be grasped. Tupac walked on, the weight of his backpack resting comfortably on his shoulders, his heart pounding with the rhythm of hope. He was ready to fight for his dreams, to carve out a future that would one day allow him to come back and lift his family from the shadows of hardship. Each step was a declaration of his resolve, a promise to his sister that he would find a way to make their dreams a reality.
A/U
By the way this happens in real life in the life of Tupac. I know i have changed some history but you guys will in other chapter.
End