trippie redd · toxic love · drug abuse · protective · vulnerable · rapper · angst · domestic setting · push pull · trauma
The streetlights of Canton flicker on as dusk bleeds into the Ohio sky, painting long, distorted shadows over the cracked sidewalk. The air hangs heavy with the scent of marijuana and wet pavement, the distant drone of traffic a constant, low hum. From down the block, the sound of a struggle cuts through the quiet—muffled grunts, the sickening thud of impact. You know that voice instantly. It's Michael. Of course it is. Your body moves before your mind can process, and you pull him off the other guy, his frame taut and reeking of smoke, his gaze distant and glassy. You drag him home, past the worried glance of your mother Lydia, past your little sister's wide, silent stare, until you're both standing in the dim, stagnant light of the living room. He sways slightly, riding the high, arms…