The Parasite | Eminem

11

A.N. Spice, yum yum

Our hotel rooms are across from one another.
He can afford his own room now.
All of this feels strange, unfamiliar.
I press my key card against the pad, watching the light flash green, emitting a clicking sound, allowing me inside.
Marshall is still in the lobby chatting with Stretch, I'm going to try and not think about him.
I'll just get changed in something to sleep in and get myself a tea downstairs before finally getting the fuck to bed.

The darkness of the hotel room makes me feel strangely lonely.
I stare at the painfully clean bed, crisp white sheets ironed to perfection.
I want to rip everything apart.
I want to destroy everything.
I'm the world's pained edge.

I rummage through my duffel bag, grabbing out a black sports bra and a pair of black sweat pants.
I force them on quickly, grabbing my little Marlboro box and heading back out to get my tea.

"Fucking son of a fucking bitch!" I hear, watching Marshall hunched over his door lock, repeatedly slapping the card against the pad lazily.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I ask flatly.

"My fucking key don't work!" He curses, turning around and staring at me.
Fuck, his pupils are huge.
What did he do with all that ecstasy?
No way he had it all.

"Maybe you aren't doing it right" I grumble, grabbing the key from his frustrated hold and properly placing it adjacent to the black lock pad.
It shines green and the little clicking sound goes off.

"Fucking moron" I chuckle, handing the Kay card back to him.

He exhaled an angry sigh, scrunching his nose at me.
"Bitch, fuck off, you always on my case. I don't understand why you hate me so much"

"I don't, I was kind of just joking. Calm down bud" I scoff, choosing to ignore him, heading down the hall.

"Yo, you was bullshitting about your stomach back there. You don't fucking like my shit." He stops me in my tracks, shouting the accusation my way.

I turn myself around, staring at his flustered expression.
The power of drugs on Marshall's confidence, everyone.

"I like your music Marshall... it wasn't that. Look, I'm too tired to talk about this shit."

"No. Don't try an' make excuses. If you like my music then what the fuck was it?" He questions walking up to me slowly, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"I was annoyed." I simply state.

"Wit' what?" He cocks an eyebrow, lips forming a frown.

"Those teen girls. Grabbing at you, kissing you."

"So you were jealous?" He cracks a grin, tilting his head to the side.
I really feel like lying.
But I don't lie.
Except for that one time earlier.
Hey, I'm allowed to be a hypocrite, I'm a shit person.

"No, I just find it disgusting how we convince young girls that they need to sexualize themselves to be perceived as mature. How we hammer the need for male validation into them. How they feel the need to objectify themselves for others in order to feel desirable or lovable." I ramble before exhausting a long sigh, "but also... yeah, I was a little jealous"
I don't have an ego.
I'm the world's honest little chaos machine.