Jemi Short Stories ❤

You don't do it for me anymore 3

"What is this horror?!"

I wake up in a blur, seeing Selena about to jump on me and rip my face apart. My distressed eyes swipe across the living room, and I realize that I fell asleep last night before doing the laundry. I'm about to stutter some excuse, but she gasps again when she notices my short hair.

"What is... this horror?!" She squeaks, almost pulling my hair off. "What the hell is that, Demi? I leave you for one night and find you on hangover with my clothes everywhere and even a new haircut? Did you lose your mind or what?" She shakily points to the few empty bottles of beer on the floor, and almost cries out of despair. "Demetria Devonne Lovato, you are gonna clean this mess right now or I'm kicking you out!"

"You're not my mom," I mumble under my breath while standing up to fix the total riot I did last night. Unfortunately, she hears me and becomes even more vexed.

"Yeah, I'm not a suicidal single mother who gives up on her drugged child and cuts her wrists for fun," she sarcastically says.

The last drop of patience I have in me just fades along with her words, and I can see in her eyes that she realizes the same. She shuts her mouth, regretful, about to apologize for her rude behaviour, but it's too late; I don't wanna hear it.

"Bitch!" I curse at the top of my lungs, and lung towards her. She takes a few steps back but it's no use; I'm on fire. I think it's the first time I ever become violent with anyone in my life, but Selena deserves it. After throwing her a few punches, she falls down to the floor, bleeding from her left arm. I can't believe that I just punched my best friend for an instant, but she provoked me! My interior mind screams.

"Demi..." Selena manages to choke out, looking up at my terrified face with sympathy. "I didn't mean to say that about your mother. She was a brave woman, and didn't deserve to die because of depression. It's my fault; I deserved to be hit after saying such disgusting things. I don't blame you." She locks eyes with me, her bottom lip quivering of pain and heart-break.

I take a step back, shaking my head in denial. "I didn't hit you," I try to convince myself, but I'm too shocked to even think. "No, I didn't hit you! I- Sel!" I crumble down to my knees in front of her, blinded by my never-ending tears. "I fucking hate you for saying that, but I don't- I don't use violence!"

She doesn't even try to contradict me as she recollects herself. She stands up with a little bit of difficulty, and rushes to the bathroom to put bandages around her arm. I feel guilt consuming me, already.

"You'll not call 911 on me, will you?" I run after her, my face slowly decomposing. I try to grab the bandages to help her, but she slaps my hand away.

"Don't touch me!" Selena warns, her eyes deadly. "And no, I won't call the police or they'll find out that I also hit you." She throws me a disdainful look like she wants to challenge me, and flips her long brown hair. "Now, get the hell out of my life and never come back here again. I'm sure I can find some better friend to do my laundry." She approaches her mouth to my ear, and slyly whispers: "Thank you for being my maid for the past few years. Enjoy sleeping on the cold bench outside in the middle of a Canadian winter, and eventually die of hunger. But wait, aren't you already dead inside?" She let out a petrifying laugh that scares the shit out of me, and that's the moment I see her true colours.

"You were never my friend, weren't you?" I snap, waiting for her reaction... Or in this case, her lack of reaction.