When I was 17 years old, I went to Atlanta to visit my older sister during summer vacation. One day I went to a party and met this boy name Drey. Drey is 6’2, Jamaican, and tatted. He approached me at the party, asked me for my number and I gave It to him; What can I say, I love boys with tattoos. After a couple of days of texting, he asked me out, and I said yes. I only said yes because I was in Atlanta for only 2 months, so this was just a fun temporary relationship. When we began dated Drey started acting crazy; for instance, if I didn’t text him back within a minute, he would curse me out. He also made me turn on my location on my phone so he can know where I’m at, at all times. I usually brushed it off because he told me females from his past relationships cheated on him, so I understood where all his insecurities were coming from. One day I was hanging out with Drey at his house, and I got a phone call. That phone conversation turned my day upside down and showed me how crazy Drey was. One sunny afternoon Drey and I were texting, it was a few days after we started dating, and he invited me to his house. I took a taxi to his house and when I got there: he was standing at the end of the drive way. I got out the taxi and gave Drey a hug. As we were walking towards the house, he was explaining to me how he lives with his mom, but he lives in the basement. The basement was his house. As he was telling me that, I was thinking the basement is furnished with wooden floors
