Criminal is powered by Vocal.
Vocal is a platform that provides storytelling tools and engaged communities for writers, musicians, filmmakers, podcasters, and other creators to get discovered and fund their creativity.
How does Vocal work?
Creators share their stories on Vocal’s communities. In return, creators earn money when they are tipped and when their stories are read.
How do I join Vocal?
Vocal welcomes creators of all shapes and sizes. Join for free and start creating.
To learn more about Vocal, visit our resources.Show less
Let me start from the beginning. On November 5, 2012, I called you but you didn’t answer. So, I went onto your Facebook page and I started writing “hey, call me when you can I miss you!!” But I erased it. Something in my gut told me to scroll through your page and see what you were up to. As I was scrolling I saw a video. That video played sad music with pictures of you and your daughter. At first I laughed because I thought it was a joke. Moments after that I saw numerous posts saying “Rest in paradise.” Immediately after I called your phone ten times because I couldn’t believe it— it just couldn’t be real. Unfortunately, it was real and my world instantly came to an end. But it soon got worse. I soon found out that you had been killed on October 17, 2012. Our mother knew everything and refused to tell me. When I told her I called you numerous times she responded with “Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to you.” That night I cried and really thought maybe you didn’t. But it wasn’t true. You and I had plans, Nate. We were going to get an apartment together and be happy. We were going to reconnect after all the time we lost. One of the worst parts of this, Nate—I couldn’t say goodbye. I couldn’t go to your funeral and say goodbye. I was stuck thinking you hated me and wanted nothing to do with me. I felt like you thought I was just like our mother. I became depressed and didn’t know why. After I found out I broke down— I hated her. I didn’t understand any of it, Nate. I felt alone and lost. I feel like you died with a broken heart and that’s not what you deserved at all. You deserved to be happy— a family that loves you and sees the good in you. A family that supported you and helped you accomplish all of your goals and dreams. Nate, this was just the beginning.
That night, I screamed, yelled, hit walls and I didn’t return home. I told our mother to rot in hell and that it was her fault. But really it was my fault your life got screwed up. I know I was just a kid and I didn’t fully understand what it all meant but if I hadn’t of said what I said to our mother then maybe she wouldn’t have hated you. I could never hate you. I forgive you, Nate. And I’m sorry that your life went off the road. Back to the night I lost everything— I rolled three blunts for you because I remember us having a conversation about smoking and you told me, “If I ever saw you smoking, Nelly, I would smack that shit out ya hand and take it.” I couldn’t stop laughing at you.
I was seventeen and I thought I was so mature responding to you with “Uh, I’m seventeen I can smoke if I want to.” Later that night a friend of mine came with a bag of ecstasy pills. I didn’t know what they were. I never did drugs before that night. So, because I didn’t care anymore I swallowed three pills and chugged down vodka with it. But the pain faded for a short time. I soon felt everything times ten and I ran out of the house and couldn’t stop screaming and crying “why.” I remember everything so clearly and how fast I spiraled out of control. Nate, remember this was only day one.