Jimmi Theodora

Part II

Hey, it’s Jimmi. Yeah I’m a girl, my parents were just hardcore Led Zeppelin fans. Were as in they died. I didn’t kill them, honest. My mom died at childbirth and my father had cancer, but before he died he remarried. Stephanie isn’t evil, she’s alright.

I’ve finished my four years of Bachelor’s and had my ceremony literally today, so what does a healthy young adult do? You guessed it.

Now before you judge, I’m going to major in pysch and I have a 4.0 GPA…. Ok it’s hanging on a 3.7, but fuck it, right? School is school, you do what you gotta do and go home. I don’t know why school comes so easy for me, it just does. Okay I’m not here to brag about my scholastics, I’m here to share with you my descent to hell. But first we need to discuss the “seed” of it, if you will.

~~~

I pulled on my tights and black shorts, adjusted my Pretty Reckless tee, and laced up my combats. I’ve always dressed a little edgy, it makes me feel superior. Like I own every bitch in the club. Ladies there is nothing wrong with that. Wear whatever makes you feel fierce! I quickly did my brows and brushed on mascara. I grabbed my backpack and strode out the door.

I blazed a cigarette after I chugged down half my beer with a few classmates.

“Let’s blow this joint and head over to the club. I didn’t slave for two weeks over finals to go to the same bar, sit in the same booth, and order the same beer,” announced Donna. “Am I right?”

“I’m cool with that,” I replied, chugging the rest of my drink.

“Yeah, sure,” agreed James and Ben. The twins clinked mugs and downed the toxic liquid.

Within minutes we were surrounded by loud bass and strobe lights. I was grinding against this fine gentleman who occasionally slipped his hand up my top. When the alcohol finally washed over my brain I tugged at his hand and led him to a stairwell where we made sins. He was rough and I was scared, I’ve never done this before. I’ve never wanted a man’s touch like this; I’m usually very modest about my sexual desires.

Now thinking back, I’m not sure if it was the alcohol that influenced me.

I’ve had sex before, but this time it was different. Usually during sex a million things go through my mind. I kept having visions of black and red, and then water. I heard water. It wasn’t rushing, it was all around me. Engulfing me. Thinking it was just the alcohol I waved it off and concentrated on the pleasure.

It just felt wrong; not guilty, but wrong. I felt like I was being scrutinized, put under pressure. I couldn’t shake the feeling even after I finished. The air was thick and almost suffocating, but I managed not to choke. All my senses were heightened; I could feel the bass, taste the sweat, and hear the distinct hiss of grains lodging up someone’s nose. When he finally finished I pecked his cheek and gently pushed him back. He called after me as I strode down the stairs and back into the club.

~~

The package trembled between my fingers. If it came out positive, my whole life flips; if it’s negative I can go have a cocktail. I fumbled with the tiny box and pulled out the stick. I slumped on the toilet seat and prayed to Mary and Jesus that I’m freaking out over nothing. It’s been a week since the club and I haven’t been feeling myself. Headaches, insomnia, and anxiety. I don’t know why this led me to the thought of pregnancy, but it’s been on my mind since.

Okay, here I go. I spread my legs a little wider and lined it up with my urine hole. I closed my eyes and let it flow. My heart rate picked up and I opened my eyes.