𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞 | machine gun kelly

71

A/N:

It's my birthday today<3 so I thought I should gift you guys a chapter. so sorry I've been slacking with updates, life's been crazy and I wouldn't know where to begin if I managed to even try and explain. I hope you're all well and happy<3 thankyou so much for 30k.

***

Davina Martinez's pov;

COLSON'S ARRIVAL WAS LIKE AN ALARM BELL RINGING constantly in my mind, deafening me. His first break from his ongoing tour to come to his home-his mansion in Los Angeles-for a full day to see his son and me.

I had missed him so hard for a whole week, the thought of him an iron object stored in the back of my mind, clattering against my walls every once in a while when I shook my head a little too much, reminding me of him always. He was permanent in me, like a tattoo ingrained deep in every organ in my body. He had his own space inside me, and sometimes, I found myself scooting further away to give him even more space, inside my own body and heart.

I had missed him for a whole week, and this Friday morning when he was finally coming home to spend a day before he continued his tour back again, I didn't want him to come.

I didn't want him to come. My hands shook in the dread of it even as I made Connor's breakfast plate from the options Chioma had served on the table, and passed it to him.

My hands shook wildly, the veins in my hands blue and purple as the blood rushing inside my body seemed to me to have gone stale-poisonous even to myself.

Last night had come and gone. It had happened. Nights just happen, don't they? And then come morning the events you passed paralyze you on your breakfast table, while you put on a painted face for the ones eating beside you.

Chioma had helped me get ready in the morning for the first time. I was used to doing my own routine every morning myself before work and before Valerie took things into her own hand, accompanied by a makeup and hair stylist.

But every morning, I did my personal routine myself, the steps of it were long memorized in my mind-steps that were possibly beneficial for my long term health, but far more important for my job. The routine, the skincare, the ritual of dressing myself, the makeup.

But my hands had shaken for all of it today. They had shook wildly and Chioma had to be called in. She helped me dyson my hair, she helped me put on the clothes I had picked, all without a single doubtful word or scrutiny.

I could only hope that she had believed the picture I had painted for her upon my return this morning. What time had I returned? 4am? 5am? The state of the clock at that time was a haze in my mind. I had rushed and I had lied to the housekeeper. I had lied to Connor. What lie had I told both of them? Emergency fitting? A friend in a crisis? Dior? An impromptu meeting? Had it been a mix of all of these things or had I stuck fervently to one? I couldn't remember, because that too was a haze in my mind.

Chioma had seen the state of me though. She had nodded her head to my lies and left me to rest. I had been only able to sleep for an hour, wasting two hours tossing and turning with the pain of the feeling of plastic packets of white powder sitting compact inside my flesh.

They weren't inside me anymore, of course. I had delivered them, hadn't I? For all of my haze, I remembered that clearly. I had been a good girl and delivered those fucking drugs.

R.C Hall lived in a highly secured place in LA, and to arrive at the man's mansion, our party-Hernandez, Woods, Megan Fox and I-had to pass through three security checks assembled at a distance throughout the entire remote darkened road. I hadn't realized that R.C Hall had association with the government, and I hadn't realized that though the man had his own personal security installed at his mansion, the entire fucking state of Los Angeles was bent on his protection-which meant that the security checks we passed were not under the man's direct control.