3am (Eminem / Slim Shady Fanfic)

17. Man Down Part 1

Okay, so first of all, it's going to be a pretty long chapter.

Anyways, I'm basing certain scenes of this on Rihanna's Man Down music video, which contains SA in it, so trigger warning, then again, do we REALLY even need one at this point?

Also, I'd like to point out that I myself have NEVER killed anyone, neither do I condone murder, it's all for shits and giggles, you know?

Oh, and I've never taken cocaine neither, and I have no idea how it actually affects people and was too lazy to Google it, so I have based my main character's experiences mostly on how it's portrayed in the movies I've watched before. Or I might have read it in some book...

Anyways, carry on...

Robyn's P.O.V.

Swaying my hips to the beat, the music is so loud at this club where Kiara and I, and a few of our other girlfriends are having our girl's night out at. It's practically pumping in my veins, and we all have our drinks in our hands, dancing and grinding on each other.

The drugs in my system I have taken with Shady earlier, amplifying the experience for me. I feel like I'm floating somewhere far from reality.

I can't believe what I have done yesterday neither.

"Hey, Robyn, you cool, girl, you keep zoning out!!" Kiara waves her hand in front of my face.

I blink and smile at her, the whole reality of I'm actually outside of the house, partying with my friends at some club just feels so surreal to me.

It's like a part of my old life that I have long left behind, just having a regular night out with my friends like a normal person.

Not somebody who lets her boyfriend (?) whatever Shady is to me, coerce her into shooting somebody to death the night before.

I still can't believe that I've done that, like whatever happened to me?

Shady told me he wanted to go easy on me. That's why he made me use a gun instead of a knife. He said it would be easier that way for my first time, as with a gun there's a certain distance. A knife is more intimate.

I couldn't believe the adrenaline rush.

It was either what I have done or the effects of coke we've both snorted up our nostrils a half and hour prior.

Shade busted into our bedroom in his murdering "uniform".

A white hockey mask and denim overalls. White sneakers on his feet and black fingerless gloves on his hands.

"Tonight is the night, baby," he said evilly.

"Do I really have to?" I asked as I watched him sit on the bed and start to spread white powder all on our nightstand table and making it into neat lines.

He pauses and looks up at me from what he was just doing. Funny. He looked so concentrated making those four neat rows, it was almost cute.

He bites his lip, regarding me from hooded eyelids.