John drove us home since he wasn’t much of a drinker, I was stupid drunk. When I’m drunk, I don't get flirty or rude, I just talk constantly. He was just listening to me talk nonsense to him as he drived. We got near the house and I was pretending to be asleep even though I was really tired, just to see what he’d do. I heard my door open and felt him carry me, bride-style, inside the house. He set me on the bed and left me alone for a little while, I actually fell asleep after that.
I woke up still in my dress, the sun was up and I smelled something cooking. I changed, made my way to the kitchen, and saw John cooking breakfast, pancakes, “Goodmorning,” I mumble, “Goodmorning,” he said, happy as ever. I went to the coffee machine and poured myself some coffee, which apparently John already made. I took a sip and I was awake, “So,” He started, “How’d you sleep?” “Oh, fine,” I answered, “the usual dreams, the dreams of us happy together,” I guess love is like that sometimes, it makes you feel special. For the longest time in my life, I felt like my life wasn’t a mistake, the life of chaos, the life of a victim.
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The Life Of A Victim
Roman d'amourGrace Raynott has been dealing with bullies all her life, so she decided to change things. Something is different now, what is it?
