Unpredictable Match 2

Forty Five

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⚠️trigger warnings❗️
mentions of:
-self harm
-r*pe
-topic of mental illness.

ANT POV

The last seven hours was the worse drive I ever had to drive.

Worried as fuck. Mind racing. Playing the blame game. Beating myself up, and everyone else around me. Tryna stay focused on the road and drown out the voices telling me to swerve cus what the fuck is the point. Tryna remind myself I'm doing this cus I care about Cameron. Cus I love Cameron. Trying not to be too mad cus I called this shit. Tryna ignore the fact that all this coulda been avoided. I told his ass don't do this. But now I'm sitting in the garage of the same hospital I came home to him to. I thought that was the last time I'd have to see this place with Cameron in it.

And now I'm trying not to get caught up in the fact that niggas is playing with me just cus they feeling like the better man now. Niggas talking crazy cus they feel like they got a one up on me. You see how niggas act when shit hits the fan? But it's cool though, I see how I gotta move now. I ain't making no promises if he try to test me in person. Which is why I called him the bitch ass nigga that he is. Where the fuck was that energy when I trusted you to take care of my family, lead my family while I was locked up like you promised me to, but I'm coming back to problems on top of problems. I cut niggas slack. But since you tryna match my energy now, why you couldn't match it then and take care of my family—like you fucking promised me to. Like the brother you claim to be. Fuck outta here.

I itch at my nose, check my reflection, put my blunt out, then get out the car. I don't need nobody to tell me I got a problem. I know that already. And until somebody got the solution to fix it, I don't need nobody telling me shit. Whatever "advice" they got is useless. And that goes for everybody. If they was in my shoes, they woulda been killed they self by now.

I'm just tryna cope while facing my fate. If something happen to me, it could be a accident—so my baby could be at ease if he gotta live without me, so he know I ain't leave him on purpose. If he even cares anymore. Ion know. He wanted me to leave him. He don't fucking care. I don't need him to. It don't change shit.

"Which room Cameron Jackson in," I ask the lady at the front desk.

"Name please."

"Anthony Jackson."

"And what's your relation to the patient?" She asks.

I stare at her, biting my cheek to keep myself from getting mad and saying something that'll get me kicked out before I get in. Cus ain't our last names the fucking same, regardless of who I might be to him.

She stares back at me, looking confused. Yeah she a confused ass bitch because how you can't put two and two together. "What's your...relation...." She asks again, eyes darting to the side like she getting ready to call security.

"Husband," I mumble.

She clears her throat, "Um, sorry I didn't hear you—what was tha—"

"Husband!" I raise my voice so much that it makes people start staring at me. Now the security looking at me like they ready to get on me. Today ain't the day for that. She should just let me go on bout my business. Wrong fucking day. The lady nods, then asks for my ID so she could make a visitors pass. I stare at the wall ahead me so I could zone out and not use up the last of my patience, especially when I see she start dropping shit, tryna laugh it off, picking the shit up, and still ain't give me my fucking pass.