Never 2 Far |An Eminem Fanfiction Unlike No Other|

|Catharine|

Guys whistled as I excited the car. Detroit is beautiful, but unfortunately inhabited by creepy old men. I know I look good for forty, but Jesus Christ. Leave me the fug alone.

I moved here back in '09, getting tired of the cold and emptiness of Alaska. Why Detroit? Why not Detroit. Before Alaska, I was born in Ireland . My mother moved us out to Alaska when I turned twelve, saying it'd be a birthday present. So I arrived in the United States, accent so thick it made leprechauns jealous, body so pudgy, it made me look like a marshmallow, I felt out of place. I lost the accent as a twenty something and only a few words remained Irish. The weight shifted to my lower half during puberty. My father died back in Ireland, my mom died a few years ago of old age and I was the only one remaining.

I had a job as a counselor, it it by no means simple, but it pays me well enough a to have a quaint home in Greenfield, a nice suburb. Believe me, I've had my time in the Detroit ghetto, living in a crackheads basement for three years before in 2012, when I finished my degree.

I yanked open the glass doors to see the interior of the building I worked at and my secretary, Mae Brunswick. Mae's a sassy, little blonde with an attitude and a loud mouth, but she gets my paper work done and files appointments so I can't complain.

"Hey." I say, walking by.

"Hey Catie." She says faintly. I hate it when people say Catharine. It's a mouthful and takes too long.

I took the elevator, stepping in and pressing the top floor. The music is soft and acoustic and I think about all the times I'd had acoustic guitar played to me. I get out, the florescent lighting, scent of peach oil and the comfortable setting upstairs distracting me. I walk into my office and smile. I absolutely adore it here.

I open my large calendar to see my appointment list. Sitting down in my overstuffed mocha swivel chair, I read them off:

Marshall Mathers~12:15
Adrienne Banks~2:30
Damien Rodgers~4:15
Alyson Haley~5:30
Jessika Robertson~6:45
Lewis Stevenson~7:10
Callie Kaye Young~8:15

Interesting line up. But the most intriguing name written on the list was "Marshall Mathers". I checked my phone. Well, it was 12:00 now, so he'd be here soon.

I fiddled around with the things on my dark wood desk, drew back the multicolored curtains to reveal the overcast, yet busy city far below me and waited. I took out my phone and looked at myself, making sure there was nothing missing or fixable that I could change.

Fair skin with some age spots, dark chocolate eyes enhanced with eyeliner and black eyeshadow, same oddly shaped nose, same whirl of black hair that sat atop my head in a bun. I looked down at my body. Same small boobs that failed to grow past a 36B, same heavier bottom half. My outfit consisted of a white button down and brown slim pants. I'm not obsessed with myself, like some people I deal with are, but I'm not contemplating suicide over how bad I looked either.

"Um, is this the wrong room?" I swiveled around to lock eyes with a middle sized man with a slim figure.  He's dressed in a gray hoodie and some black pants. His eyes were a vibrant blue and he spoke with the accent of person who's had a difficult life.

"That depends. Who are you?" I asked, hands folded over my lap. A skeptical look passed over his face.

"Marshall." He said, smirking a little as he said so.

"Mathers?" I dumbly inquired, as if her was the only Marshall and I the only Catharine.

"Yeah." He said, chuckling as he did so.

"Sit down." I said, motioning toward the plush sanguine sofa. He sat, nearly falling in. I scooted forward, probably appearing so ridiculous. A clipboard and a blue pen were firmly grasped in my hands and Marshall began fiddling with his.

"I'm Catharine Greene." I said, sticking out a hand. He accepted it and his strong hands felt heated and soft.

"I can see you're uncomfortable. You okay?" I liked to be honest with my patients. We were going to be together for two hours, he might as well be comfortable.

"Yeah, yeah. Thank you." He said, settling back. I knew he liked my honesty.

"So, Marshall. Why are you here?"

"Because I've got a lot of shlit I keep inside me. I try not to get too emotional or pissed off these days. But it's hard, you know." He kept his eyes down the entirety of talking. I noted that.

"You can't keep it in forever, Marshall. You've got to get it out somehow."

"I do." He says, a little defensively.

"How?" I ask even though it sounds more like a command. He keeps staring down, I noticed his eye twitching and I knew. I've dealt with a shlit ton of druggies and I knew that was a side effect of long term use.

"Just with my writing and stuff." He said.

"Can I see it?" I knew I sounded like a little kid, but it intrigued me. What could this guy possibly have inside him that he can't share with me?

He pulled a ragged, well aged notebook filled with yellow paper. Marshall passed it to me and I gingerly accepted it into my own hands.

"The newer shlit's near the back." He pipped up, noticing how I was looking at it. I smiled and turned the page.

A scrabbled mess of old words littered the page. I began to read one, a lyric with the date 12/14/2001. It was a little difficult with some errors, but my God. This was simply amazing. Drugs, women, his mother, simply outstanding. I flipped a few more pages, we were now in 2004. The less the rhymes started to make sense, the more I depicted in my mind what had been occurring.

Flip a few more and we were now in 2006. The reading the words felt like watching a baby attempt to stand up for the first time. Each time, it had potential and each time it failed to deliver the promise and crumpled back into an unfinished mess of descriptions. The more I got into the book, the more I felt for Marshall. A tear rolled down my eyes, it being so depressing.

I flipped a few more 2010. An inspiring beginning the stopped abruptly after he ran out of pages. I closed it.

Nine years of feelings.
Nine years of dealing.

"What'd you think?" Marshall was now looking at me with those beautiful blue eyes.

"Oh my God, Oh my God." I said, passing it back to him.

"Yeah, I used to be insane back in the day." He said, a faint twinkle in his eye. I smiled.

"You are gifted, Marshall. Truly gifted." I said.

"Thank you, I try." He said laughing and I laughed with him.

"So, what's been bothering you. If you wrote all your feelings, what could be left inside you?" I asked once more.

"Stress, Catharine. Stress." He said firmly.

/Short chapter, short life lol. I had to introduce Catharine and Marshall's relationship, it's adorable. Catharine's appearance is inspired by the lovely Lily Allen, It's Not Me, It's You, 2009 era. Btw, my favorite Lily Allen song is "Nan You're a Window Shopper"😉
catch ya later~ATS\