❝And she did the drugs for fun
But now she does them just to stay up❞
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I'm a half smoked cigarettes girl, a tiny tops and eye glitter girl, a quick and cheap girl. The female version of a playboy. Sexy, sweet, sour, anyth...
❝It's not always your heart, sometimes your mind breaks as well❞
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I used to promise myself. I would never let a man hurt me. I watched my first best friends mom, get killed by her husband. I watched him push her, shove her, there were times I'd walk into the kitchen and see him on top of her. Pinning her down. After seeing all of that, I never fully trusted my own parents anymore. I remember my best friend, Elena. She was placed in foster care after her mother died. She'd been in the room. She'd watched her own father slam her mom into the wall, bash her head against it till it physically split open. Elena told me, she remembered how her mom didn't even try to fight back. Elena was never the same after that day. When I was 16 she shot herself in the head with a 9mm. I was the one who found her. Just like the image of her moms dead body, the image of Elena's brains spilled on the bathroom floor was forever ingraned in my head.
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"Fuck having a relashionship." Jack said. He was holding the bullets to his gun in his hand. I sat on the floor, watching him clean it.
"People like you and I die before we see the legal drinking age." He continued, he'd been ranting about it for twenty whole minutes. Listening to an angry man clean his gun jangled my nerves like you wouldn't believe.
"You don't want a family?" I asked. Pressing myself into the wall.
He shook his head.
"I grew up without a father, it gave me so much hate. I'd just end up beating on my kid Katie, hurting her, then she'd do the same thing to her kids. So on and so on. The cycle ends with me."
I watched him for a while after that. Jack never talked about his family. Much less his emotions. Somewhere in the back of my head, I watched a movie play out. A shotgun wedding in Vegas. A one bedroom apartment, shooting Tequila for breakfast. Me and Jack dying in each others arms. I liked him, maybe I just realized watching him, some hard ass guy who I thought I knew. Talk about how he really felt.
"Wife?"
He laughed.
Maybe, if I showed him he could be loved. In more ways then just horny sex, maybe he'd look at me and settle. Settle for the seventeen year old druggie who he stupidly let live with him. I refused to admit it, but as I'd been with him more and more, cooked him breakfast, washed his sheets and cut his lines. I'd realized how much I loved being his girl, even though we weren't anything official. Especially after Alex's party when I'd let some girl go down on me while sucking her boyfriends shit. Jack hadn't said anything about it, even though I half expected him to.
It's wrong to go through people's stuff. I know that now. But when I was changing the sheets on Jack's bed a small notepad fell out of his blanket. I picked it up, not even thinking. The first page had childlike scribbles on it. I heard the door open, I dropped the notebook. I hadn't even read anything.
"what. the. fuck. are. you. doing."
Shit. I can feel cold hard hands shoving me to the ground, and a palm slapping my face so hard it feels like all of my bones shattered.
"JACK! JACK FUCKING STOP" I screamed pushing at him, clawing and scratching. I hadn't even seen anything. He clawed at my tits, scratching me so hard I bled. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't see. Everything felt like my body was on fire. Maybe I was dying.
A/N: Sorry about this one, it is a crucial part of the story though so bare with me. Also, I'm very aware of the quality of this story. It's 3am and I have insomnia. Cut me some slack
