The Parasite | Eminem

18

A.N. Sorry about the wait, found out my friend killed someone... Uh yeah.

There's nothing more powerful than changing the way someone thinks. You'll never truly make an impact in this world unless you can do that. Otherwise, you've done nothing worth noting.
Only when you change minds do you change the world.
Priests hold the power of God himself.
They convince millions that they can forgive their sins, wash away all the bad, as long as they get on their knees and beg.
That's power, that's impact.
"No one can forgot someone like you. It's impossible" he tells me, shoving me into the hotel room.
I know I've achieved another level of power.
Another individual stamped with my existence.

"Now that you know me, would you say you like me?" I ask, coy smirk playing on my lips.
I'm not the type of person that has true feelings hidden somewhere in mind.
I'm not a multilayered individual.
I'm not a coward.
There are no layers because I don't care to bring comfort to anyone.
What you see is what you get.
People don't deserve coddling.

"I'm afraid of you... but there's some reason why I'm attracted to you." He mumbles, laying me on the bed slowly.
Oh right.
We're about to fuck one another.

"Why do we do anything? We can talk ourselves in and out of anything. There doesn't need to be a reason for everything. It ruins the fun" I tell him, grabbing his shirt, prying it off.
He's got a great dick, I'm not talking myself out of sex with this married man.
This married man that's technically dating me now.
This soon to be divorced man.
I'm the world's lack of morals.

"You're the devil on my shoulder, Marlow." He grunts, grinding himself against me.

"I sell the world's worst suspicions back to them..." I purr, bringing both hands to his face, I lean in to his right ear, "and everything's for sale"

"Shit Marlow, you want me to fuck you like a slut?" He growls, grabbing the fabric of my jeans, pulling them down my thighs.

Here is where you lay waste to morals.
Here's where you become animal.
"Fuck me like you want to destroy me."

"Holy shit..." he groans, he'll remember these words for the rest of his life.
Jerk-off material.
Ego booster stronger than any testosterone pill.
Sexual liberation.

Our boxers forgot somewhere, he shoves himself inside of me.
I tighten around him.
I'll make myself unforgettable.
I've got the power, and while you were too busy people pleasing, I was building my empire.

He thrusts in and out of me with purposeful strength.
He'll do as I ask.
He's softer than I know he's capable of.
He doesn't think I'm serious.
"Fuck Marshall! Harder!" I shout, even as he pounds me.
There's no mercy here.
It's emotionless.
It's strictly for chasing a high.

He fucks me, forcing himself in and back out of me repeatedly.
I let him feel in control.
I let him pound into me so hard that most of what I feel is pain.
After a while, you learn to love pain.
It's the new drug to chase.
As long as you frame pain the right way, you can get anyone addicted.

"Holy shit! Fuck! Fuck, Marshall!" I toss my head back.
I close my eyes.
I'm off in my own world.

He grabs my throat, warm finger wrapping around it, squeezing just enough.
I feel intoxicated in a new sense.
"That's Shady. You call me Shady, bitch" He snarls, grip tightening slightly before his a hand travels down to my breasts.
He grips at one hungrily while his lips ravish my neck.
He bites, sucks.
He wants to leave a mark.
A little symbol of his presence.
Why humans feel such a desperate desire to memorialize themselves, I don't know.
Small gestures.
Names written in sand.
Notes written on fogged glass or on frosted windows of cars.
Hickeys on the necks of spouses and sluts.

"Fuck Shady!"
His speed keeps hiking up.
He slams into me like the act of punishment against an atheist.
I am the God-denying sinner.
Fuck me till I repent.

"Good slut." He grunts, hot breath spreading against the skin off my neck.
This is what inebriation feels like.
"Fuck!"

A few more thrusts and he busts inside me.
He doesn't stop.
It's as if he didn't even release.
He keeps giving it to me.
He wants me to come.
He wants to know he's given this slut what she wants.

It's quick, hitting me square in the face.
My legs shake.
My eyes roll back.
He hits that perfect spot.
This is my ecstasy.
"Shady- fuck! There! Oh my God!"
My nails scrape at his back.
My mouth hangs open.

It takes a few moments for me to collect myself. He lays on top of me, face resting in the crook of my neck.
I hear his low pants in my ear.

As ruthless as it was, this is the most intimate I've had it.
The first time with him, now, it's all been different then before for me.

"Fuck..." he grunts, pulling out and laying beside me.

Van Morrison pops in my head.
I don't know why.
I feel my mouth open.
"You are my.... Brown eyed girl..." I mumble, sitting up slowly and searching the ground for my pants.

He lets out a soft, quiet laugh.

I find them, searching the pockets for the white and red Marlboro box.
I slip it open and grab a cigarette, sticking it between my lips and turning back around to Marshall's night stand.
I grab a lighter I knew would be there, using it my set my sweet little stick of death a flame.

"How do you see this thing between us?" Marshall asks, staring up at my naked form, smoking a cigarette.

"I think I need to start living my life better." I mutter, expelling smoke.

"Please elaborate" he grunts, slapping his palm against his forehead.

"Whoever gives nothing, has nothing. The greatest misfortune is not to be unloved, but not to love... I think my problem is... I've been emotionally stunting myself. Don't take my words to mean I'm going to fall in love with you all of a sudden... but you get what I mean..." I tell him, dropping back down on the bed.
He turns his face, eyes pinned on mine.
Face blank, eyes dropping slightly, he lets out a sigh.

"I don't think you have the capacity to fall in love with me." He tells me softly before bringing his gaze to the ceiling.

"Well, we'll find out." I mumble, taking another inhale.

He grabs the messed white sheets and pulls them over himself.
"...You gonna stay the night?" He asks, voice meek and shy.

I turn to look at his hopeful eyes.
I can barely comprehend his intrigue or desire.

"Sure... why not." I shrug, thinking about how I should go to the bathroom right about now.

He's silent for a few moments.
We both are.
We remain still.
I start at the tv across from the bed.
He stares at me.
I feel his eyes on me.

"Well, how do you feel now that you've released your LP?" I ask, trying to fill empty space.

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that..." he chuckles softly.
I hear rustling, the bed dips then there's a head resting in my shoulder.
"Well... the release party was crazy... I mean, all the concerts have felt wack... but like- knowin' all these people are here to celebrate wit' me..."

"Yeah... I get what you mean..." I mumble.
It's shocking and intoxicating when there are hundred and thousands of people who love you out of no where.
Seemingly overnight.
"Well... do you feel happy?"

"No... I mean, I feel like I'm on an ego high... and I feel on top of the world... but I wouldn't say I'm feeling happiness. I feel good in this moment though" he mumbles, bringing his hand to my stomach.
His pointer finger draws patterns on my naked skin.

"...same" I agree.
I feel calm.
I feel tired.
But most of all, I at least feel content.