Soulless (Justin Bieber Love Story / Fan Fiction)

XXIII

XXIII.
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Song of the chapter:
Shape of You by Ed Sheeran
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Entry from October 21, 2013

Kennedy fucking Nolan is not taking any fucking shit from Justin Bieber. You might be wondering, what did he do? You were on cloud nine in the last few note sessions, swooning over the taste of his lips and his strong hands holding you close. What changed? Me-- I changed. Being away from Justin for a solid six hours brought my la-la-land-living self back to reality, and his dreamy eyes or his charming smile aren't here to distract me from what I believe in. I believe that he is immensely manipulative. He knows exactly what to do to get a girl feeling like she's the only girl. And that's what makes him so dangerous. He has no remorse, no hesitation, and he acts as if I have no idea about the other girls he used to gallivant off with! He doesn't acknowledge the damage he has invoked on so many girls unless it is forcibly brought to his narrow attention!

Sociopath - (noun): a person with a personality disorder manifesting itself in extreme antisocial attitudes and behavior and a lack of conscience.

My hand angrily and quickly scratched the pad of paper that held all of my notes and entries about Justin. If I couldn't talk to him, I sure as hell was going to write about him.

How could I possibly be so blind? I wondered as I threw my pencil down and began rubbing my tired eyes. I know what I'm getting into, and I still started to fall for it. Incredible.

My phone lit up, indicating a text message. I sighed and looked at the time that read 10:52, then down at the message from none other than "J."

J: What are you doing right now?

I ran my tongue over my lips, fire still coursing through my veins from my venting session with my notebook. I didn't want to answer him, however I wasn't nearly close to finishing my notes. I had to endure at least another month, or however long it took him to toss me to the curb. My stomach churned at the thought of that and also possibly having to withstand several more months of the constant frustration.

I swallowed my pride and texted back.

Me: Nothing.

J: I can see that. You look cute.

Stalker! I mentally shrieked.

My head shot up, and I looked around the room in a panic. I couldn't see him, so how could he see me? Was he bluffing?

Me: Yeah, right. Prove it.

I gulped, hoping to god that he wasn't serious. I didn't want to see him. I was starting to regain my sense of reality; it was too soon for me to fall again.

J: You're sitting on your bed with your legs crossed. There's a black book or notebook in front of you. Your hair is down. You look worried.

I stood up from my bed and headed towards my window in hopes to see him so I could tell him to go away. I was in no mood to sneak him in. My eyes narrowed to look for any possible traces of him, but there was nothing. Suddenly, I saw his hand grab the side of the roof, indicating he was, in fact, on his way up.

"Jesus Christ!" I held my chest in my hand before scrambling to my bed and shoving the black notebook underneath the mattress in desperation. My heart thudded heavily and as I tried to regain stability, there was a tapping on the window. Without looking at him, I held up my index finger to show him that he needed to wait so I could at least lock my bedroom door.