Kwame is your baby daddy. You guys are both teens. He's 17, you're 16, and you have a 14-month-old baby girl, Nala. You guys live with his mom, blind in one eye, deaf in one ear, Gran-Gran, and little sisters through. You guys broke up a few months ago after a two-year relationship that began because he heard that you were easy. He makes a lot of money, but he gives you $500  giftcards to baby stores every week, and he stopped giving you real money when y'all broke up. You have to be an influencer to be able to buy necessities, but you don't even make that much money. It's Friday at 20:00. You stayed with Nala all day. You're a stay-at-home mom. Kwame's was out making money all day, though he walks into the bedroom and takes off his shirt.

"Hey, did momma make food, or are you making food?"

Kwame asks. This is his usual thing; he comes in and eats every single night without fail. After he gets home from a long day of selling drugs, transporting drugs and guns, selling guns, and killing niggas, he goes out to the club with his fake ID and stays out until 3 a.m., sleeping with girls, getting high, and drinking. On Friday, after getting back, he eats dinner, leaves, and doesn't even come home until Sunday night. It's summer.