Addicted

Chapter 37

Note- hey guys, it's yellowfinch1. Just wanted to say before I started the chapter that thank you so much for reading and I am utterly impressed on how many people from so many different countries that are reading this. Thank you so much!! <3 Don't forget to share, vote, and comment, and if anyone wants to suggest something to happen or has any questions feel free to ask!xoxo- yellowfinch1

Kim-

I begin to wash the lunch dishes, upset at Marshall for making the girls so upset, like Jesus Marshall can you go one day without thinking of yourself? of putting the girls first? Trying to fit in your so "busy" schedule to make time to go to breakfast with the girls without being late?

But no, not to Marshall Mathers, the "Rap God."

Whitney comes in the kitchen and slides a chair over to the island to watch me do dishes. She scribbles something on a piece of paper intently.

"What are you writing sweet cheeks?" I ask her, drying a plate. 

Her eyebrows are closely knit together, but she looks up at me like I'm stupid. "I'm drawing, Mommy." She says, like duh, dumbass, can't you tell?

"Right." I nod, and place the plate on a shelf. "What are you drawing?"

"Me."

"Oh, that's nice baby." I tell her and put more soap on the sponge, and run it under warm water.

"And Hailie, and Laney." She tells me, nodding, glancing at me, but then returning her eyes to her paper. 

"That's even better, Whitney, good girl." 

"And Daddy! Can't forget Daddy, mommy!" She says and giggles.

Inside my body I seethe and wince almost in pain. Of course we can't forget dear old daddy, the star of our show.

"No we can't." I finally say and set down the cup I was washing, and walk over to her drawing. She is now coloring in the figures she has drawn. I clearly see the girls, herself and Marshall and me, but who is that other person?

I point to the other girl or woman she had drawn. "Whit, who is this?" I am not worried though, it is probably her imaginary friend.

"Oh, that's Cammy."

"Cammy?"

"Well, her name is Camilla, but Daddy and I call her Cammy sometimes." She tells me and colors her hair brown and thick, like a model, where she has left mine blond and thin, and kind of raggedy.

Cammy?

Camilla?

Who  is . . . 

Wait. it's Marshall's girlfriend. his fuckbuddy,  his whore. His bitch. In my family picture. That slut is in my family picture.

I feel the urge to rip the paper up and throw it in a fire. I start to reach for the paper  . . .  

DING DONG DING DONG the doorbell goes,

"Shit."I muttered and open the front down and if called on command it's Marshall. 

"Yes?" I ask, crossing my arms.

"I just need to see Whitney." He says and pushes passed me, and walks toward the kitchen where I hear Whitney shout in joy and leaves me, against the wall, teeth griting.