𝗟𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟮 𝗠𝗬 𝗨𝗡𝗕𝗢𝗥𝗡 ━━━━━ 𝘁𝘂𝗽𝗮𝗰 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗸𝘂𝗿.

041.

𝖥𝖫𝖠𝖲𝖧𝖡𝖠𝖢𝖪 . .

     THE MORNING SUN STREAMED THROUGH THE CURTAINS , casting a warm glow across the room as Tupac slowly stirred from his sleep. As he opened his eyes, the events of the previous night flooded back to him, sending a pang of guilt through his chest.

Turning his head, Tupac's gaze fell upon the naked woman lying beside him in the bed, her undeniably attractive features softened in the gentle light. For a moment, he simply watched her, yet instead of caring about her beauty, a mix of regret and confusion swirling in his mind.

Then, as his senses fully awakened, Tupac's eyes fell upon the two condom wrappers discarded on the bedside table, realization crashing over him like a wave. His exhaustion completely vanished and he pushed himself upright, a knot of anger and self-loathing tightening in his chest.

He's done it, again.

"Get the fuck up." he muttered, his voice thick with frustration and tiresome as he glared at the woman beside him, hurrying to grab his draws that were discarded on the floor clothing himself. "I said get the fuck up bitch . . what are you doing in my fucking bed?"

The woman stirred, her eyes fluttering open in confusion as she flinched at the sudden loudness of his voice. "What? Tupac, what's wrong?" she mumbled, still groggy from sleep, running a hand through her now messy hair as blinking away the tiredness from her vision.

Tupac's jaw clenched as he fought to contain his rising anger, he was experiencing a mixture of feelings, guilt, anger and disappointment at himself. "What's wrong?" he snapped, his tone cutting through the air like a knife. "You in my bed, that's what's wrong. I told you to get the fuck out."

As the woman shook her head, confusion etched across her features awoken from her sleep abruptly, she could sense the tension radiating from Tupac. "I don't get what you're talking about, you weren't acting like this last night." she asked, her voice firm despite her uncertainty.

Tupac's jaw clenched as he struggled to find the right words. "I wasn't acting like this last night because I wasn't in the right state of mind," he admitted, his tone heavy with regret. "And now your bitch-ass needs to leave before I fucking loose my shit."

The woman's eyes widened in shock at Tupac's sudden outburst, her mind racing to process his words. "Excuse me?" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with disbelief and hurt.

Tupac's chest heaved with pent-up frustration as he glared at her, his fists clenched at his sides. "You heard me," he spat, his tone dripping with venom. "I said get the fuck out of my bed, I'm giving you time, but I'm about to get mad I've repeated myself enough."

The woman recoiled, stunned by Tupac's harsh words. "I don't understand, Tupac," she protested, siting up from the bed with a frown. "You let me into your bed, you brought me here, why are you switching up?"

Tupac's frustration boiled over as he shook his head in disbelief. "You don't understand? Let me spell it out for you," he retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I was drunk, and I made a fucking mistake. That's all there is to it. Now, get your ass out of here before I lose my cool."

The woman's eyes narrowed, her anger matching Tupac's intensity. "You think you can just use me and then throw me away like garbage?" she shot back, her voice trembling with fury. "Well, guess what, Tupac? I'm not some toy for you to play with. You're gonna regret treating me like this."

Tupac's lip curled in a sneer as he shook his head in disbelief. "Regret? Please," he scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. "You a bitch and you know you are, you think I'm gon' pursue anything serious with a hoochie I meet at the club?" Tupac's patience wore thin as he watched her hesitate, his eyes blazing with anger. "I said get dressed and get the fuck out," he growled, his tone brooking no argument. "I ain't got all day."