maxens🦇 @maxens_s - Twitter Profile

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goblin @ndkjejeje

1 day ago

ndkjejeje's tweet photo. https://t.co/pAtd0U5eJz

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Moski @barz999

1 day ago

FUTURE was right, bitch don’t get too comfortable.

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fintex

@_yusufknl

1 day ago

Fantasy was 12 years old when her best friend invited her over, got her high, and let seven grown men drag her up the stairs while she sat on the couch and watched. That was the night her childhood ended. By 14, she was selling herself on the streets of South Central Los Angeles. By 17, she was seeing 60 to 70 men a week and hadn't missed a single day in three years. Her father died when she was young. Her mother's response wasn't grief or comfort - it was a phone call to child services. She told them to come take her daughter. She didn't fight it, didn't cry about it, didn't try to get her back. She just wanted the girl gone. Fantasy was 14 and completely alone in the system. The foster homes were worse than the streets. Six group homes in three years. Grown men in those houses putting their hands where they shouldn't. And every time she fought back, every time she defended herself, she got kicked out. Twenty-five dollars a week allowance. That was the system's answer to a child with nowhere to go and no one to call. So she walked out and found the only economy that would take her. The track in Watts, where cars slow down and men with wedding rings pay teenage girls in cash. She didn't have a pimp. She didn't have protection. She had herself, a Cash App, and the understanding that nobody in her life was coming to save her. In the interview she tells the story of that night at Destiny's house like she's describing the weather. She walked in through the back door, rolled a blunt, sat on the couch. The weed hit her hard because she'd just started smoking. She felt arms grab her from both sides. They walked her up the stairs and her head was hanging back, and the last thing she saw before they took her into that room was her best friend sitting on the couch, staring up at her, doing nothing. Seven of them took turns with a 12-year-old girl who could barely stand. And when it was over, she found out later that Destiny had planned the whole thing. While Fantasy was upstairs being destroyed, her so-called best friend was downstairs entertaining the ones who were waiting. She never reported it. She never told her mother. There was nobody to tell. The system had already made it clear that girls like her don't get protection, they get processed. So instead of becoming a victim, she became a hustler. She walked onto Figueroa Boulevard at 14 and decided that if men were going to use her body anyway, she might as well get paid. She's been stabbed. She's been robbed at knifepoint. She works from sunrise to sunset, seven days a week, rain or shine. She says her biggest fear isn't the men in the cars or the blade in someone's pocket. It's that she'll never actually do anything else with her life. She wants to be a medical examiner. She wants to cut open dead bodies for a living because she says she doesn't like people anymore, and the dead ones don't disappoint you. She's 17. She can't even open a bank account yet. But she's been through more violence, betrayal and exploitation than most people will experience in a lifetime. And the woman who gave birth to her knows exactly what her daughter does every night and hasn't lifted a finger to stop it.