run of the mill.

9th

Beyonce drove home feeling like a zombie. It wasn't the average zombie like the one she felt like when she was in college and she had no friends. No this was the type of zombie that people depended on. She was the zombie no one acknowledged. She was the one that wasn't scary. People saw her and knew that she was there but they only talked to her or made contact when it was convenient. She was trapped in a prison of her own making. 

She was the zombie in a tomb. 

She had let Shawn walk all over her so long he didn't even realize he was doing it anymore. She had been so damn good to him he had forgotten the line between a good woman and a convenient woman. Beyonce had promised to be everything he needed no matter what and Shawn had taken her up on that offer. He had taken her up, down, all around on that offer. She was almost hired help. He only needed her when it could benefit him.

She blamed herself. She had started all of it. Beyonce let him use her when he was sad or in trouble or in need or whatever. She couldn't blame him for his actions. She had created this monster and now she would have to live with it. She was a regular doctor fucking Frankenstein. He was ignoring her and it was all a product of her actions. That was why she couldn't tell him what was the matter. She couldn't disclose that she was feeling ignored and unappreciated because that was the corner she'd backed herself into. She'd made her bed and now she had to lie in it. 

Sure he still cared. But he only cared because it was making him uncomfortable, not because he could see how it was hurting her. It was all about him nowadays and that was understandable. She had made it all about him. Get Shawn into the NFL. Lose weight so Shawn will like it. Have a baby because Shawn wants one. Don't bicker because it upsets Shawn. Shawn Shawn Shawn. 

She just hoped he would call at a decent hour for her to pick him up. 

Her iphone rang and jarred her out of the nap she told herself she wasn't gonna take. She had attempted to stay up and not let sleep come until she could lay down for good so she sat on the couch and turned on the TV. She was sure that she couldn't go to sleep in the couch. 

But she was pregnant and she remembered that all she did was sleep now. Especially at late hours. 

Beyonce looked at the clock and cringed at the hour. 

"I don't know. Maybe two if it's not all that."

4:34 am. 

"Hello," she said sitting up.

"Beyonce," she heard someone say. 

"Yeah, Shawn?" It didn't sound like him. 

"No it's Yeremiah."Beyonce sat up and looked around her for the keys. "Shawn's shit-faced right now and I figured it was best for us to go. Did I wake you?"

Beyonce stifled a yawn and waited until she got it out of her system to respond. Yermy had always been one of the nice ones. "Na I'm good. Is Shawn ok?"

"Yeah I guess, he's just really fucked up."

Beyonce fought a sigh and got into the elevator. She put a hand over her mouth to yawn again. "Ok I'll be there in like ten minutes. I'm leaving the house now."

There was only one or two paparazzi there when the doors opened and Beyonce was grateful she had managed to finally figure them out; answer the questions and smile the entire time. If you didn't want to answer it don't say no comment, just shrug or laugh it off very carefully. If you did it wrong, they got the wrong idea. 

The few dedicated reporters rushed to her. Beyonce turned and smiled happily at them. "Beyonce where are you headed at such a late hour?"

And don't even think about lying. Hey smelled that shit a mile away. Beyonce smiled giddily even though she was feeling anything but that. "I'm going to pick up Shawn from a club."