𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞 | machine gun kelly

1

A/N: Hi guys! I just wanted to ask that you comment your opinions if you read! I love to see feedback and ways I can improve. Thankyou! 

***

Seattle, Washington State,
A month ago,

"DAVINA, WHY AM I so fat?"

The seven year old boy mumbled, his tummy under a navy blue spider man t-shirt and his chubby arms flowing through his half sleeves like soft pillows. His curly hair was a bird's nest on top of his head, and his eyes sparkling, sparkling like the stars in the night sky. He bit his lip, his missing teeth in the front making it hard for him to do so. 

I frowned softly, setting aside the magazine I was reading on my bed and motioning for my adopted brother to come to me. He shuffled over, his expression dimmed of the energy that was always usually inside of him. When he approached, I put both of my hands on his round face, cupping it as though one would hold something precious to them. He was, in all ways, precious to me. More precious than anything I have eve known.  

"You're strong, you're so intelligent," I started, my eyes looking into his small ones, trying to make him see what I see whenever I look at him.

"You're so so brave and you're so handsome. Never ever listen to what they say, ever. It's all nonsense." 

Bullies, they suffered too, which is why they made others suffer. It was an endless cycle of cruelty. I reminded myself of that every time I was with Trippie, he was cruel but he was built like that. It was all that he had ever known. It shouldn't justify his behavior, the way he treated me, but it was a sick mess of the façade I fed myself like medicine every night. I fed it to myself, it was my fault too. 

Mickey smiled, his cheeks protruding on his face like two apples. Then he kissed me on my cheek and left, clutching his airplane toy in his hand eagerly. 

My phone buzzed, and my eyes found it on the side of my bed. The screen was lit, displaying Trippie's name on it as he called me. I picked it up. 

"Hello?" I started, I always did. It was always me saying the first thing like I was the one in need of his attention. It was like I had called him, not the other way around. 

"Baby," his voice rasped, no doubt blowing lungs full of smoke into the air simultaneously, "Get to the venue." 

"But your show isn't until nine Michael, it's only six." 

"Fuck," he growled into the phone, his voice quickly furious, "Don't call me that, and get over here." 

"Michael," I shut my eyes, calming myself and ignoring his request, "You told me yesterday I could come after dinner with my family." 

"Well then, I changed my mind didn't I?" 

"Michael please, mom is sick, you know that!" I cried, frustrated, anxious, "I will be present for your show just like I promised. Just let me take care of her until then. I'll make dinner and tuck them into beds and I'll come." 

"I need my fucking secretary over here right now," he hissed, and I could feel his tongue gliding over his silver teeth all the way over here. 

A lie. He only called me his secretary so he could get close to me, he hired me as a fake one. The only papers I really was supposed to deal with were his personal pleasures. I had signed on to be his puppet girlfriend, and nothing else. He had played along the first weeks of my job, then he had showed me his true colors. I was still in charge of arranging his meetings though, in charge of getting back at everyone who called him and went unanswered, in charge of forwarding his record deals, but nothing that would take me away from him more than an hour at a time.