Love Don't Change • Chris Brown

Bipolar

The second I was able to pry my eyes open a headache from hell took over me. My shit was beaming. Once I gained enough strength to sit up against the headboard I noticed I wasn't in my bed. I wasn't next to Riley. I wasn't in my apartment. My shirt was off. My pants were off.

That's when I remembered what happened before I blacked out completely last night.

Last thing I can recall is getting dragged out the club, barely conscious, by two women; one being who I thought was a friend, Miracle.

I know for a fact I fucked up, bad.

Riley won't believe nor forgive me when I tell her I technically got raped. Who would?

I heard heavy knocks on the door, making my head pound as if it was gunshots. A few seconds later Miracle came trotting her ass in. She inched toward the bed and I sat up some more just in case she tried some shit. "Bitch you got life fucked up if you think you finna get away with some shit like this."

"Whoa, watch that B word." Miracle laughed and rose her hands in surrender, sitting a glass of water on the nightstand. I'm not drinking that shit, she probably slipped another drug in it. "I can guarantee you we didn't do anything at all last night. You're lucky I caught up with those two crazy bitches before they could drag your damn near lifeless body out of the club."

I glared at her and tried my hardest to get out the bed, only for me to barely make it out the covers. "Quit fuckin' with me Miracle. I fuckin' heard and saw you with that other bitch, walking me out the club. I'm not a dumb ass. I swear to God I'ma get Riley to fuck both of y'all up."

"No, who you heard and saw was this other stripper, Alexis. Everyone gets us confused with one another because we're both brown skinned and thick with long, black hair. You're my homie and Riley's pregnant with your children, why would I ever take advantage of you the way those girls tried to? Plus I like my men older than me. You should be glad I got ahold of you before any blogs could, you know you've been their best friend lately."

She's a damn good liar. I'll catch her ass up though.

"If you helped me out the club why you ain't just take me home? Why am I in your bed, Miracle?"

"Honey, I sleep on a California King with satin sheets and an eight foot velvet headboard. You are home, in the guest room."

"Where my clothes at?"

"What human in their right mind sleeps in jeans? Riley took them off."

Shit wasn't adding up to me. Why would she leave her own birthday party just to take me home?

"Why didn't Bryson just bring me home?"

"Bryson was still performing. After everyone sang happy birthday to me I was on my way to the bar to get my own drink since Chanel never brought it and that's when I seen your unconscious ass getting dragged out by her and Alexis. I stopped them and immediately went to go grab my stuff to take you home."

I sucked my teeth at her explanation. "So you left your own birthday party to make sure a nigga who ain't related to you or ain't yo' nigga was okay?"

"That birthday party was the last thing on my mind. I wanted to make sure you got home to your pregnant girlfriend and kid rather than going home with two girls and getting raped, possibly getting one—or both—pregnant. Instead of interrogating me you should be thanking me because yes, I left my own birthday party early to make sure you were okay. In the five years I've been stripping, I've seen girls do crazy shit like this all the time to men with money. They're all over them all night, and the second they ask for a drink they slip a roofie in and take them home, ready to claim sexual abuse the next morning and sue."