There's Blood On The Dance Floor (A BOTDF Fanfic)

:Chapter Six:

I never got to talk to JayyVon again that night - or, well, morning - and eventually had to get going home because the boys had to head to the next venue. Before I left however, Dahvie slipped me his phone number on a piece of paper in case I ever needed anything. I felt so honored to know that he trusted me - a die-hard fan who could easily give it out to anyone else and have it spread around everywhere - with his cell number. I explained to him that I'm currently grounded and don't have my phone on me, so I won't text or call him for a while just to let him know I'm still alive and have his number and all.

As I started on my way home, feeling a bit better after throwing up, I started to think of the possibilities of what would go very wrong with this situation. We were drunk. We had sex. Dirty sex. I could have an STD. I could be pregnant. I could have AIDS....I should get checked. A smart person would.....But am I smart? Ha, no....

My mind just kept bitching at me and wouldn't let go. I wish I could crawl right out of my skin and become somebody else for a while. But most of all I wish I had someone that I could actually talk to about this who would understand and not judge me for what'd I'd done last night.

Once I reluctantly arrived home, slipping through my bedroom window again (I had been clever enough to leave it slightly cracked open a tid bit so I could pinch my fingers under and open it again that way. There was no fucking way I was going through the front door.), but, unfortunately I was met on my bed to a very very angry mother.

FUUUUUCK.

"Where the hell have you been, young lady?" She said sternly as soon as I step foot into my room. She was sitting on a chair near my door with a book in her lap, Clearly she has been here all night.

At first I couldn't speak at all, struck with shock and disbelief and fear. She's seriously going to kick my ass. I soon spilt out the first thing that came to my mind.

"I, uh, just went to go out to get a snack...and I ran into some friends....I slept over at their place though because it got really late and didn't want to walk home by myself and they drove me home...." I couldn't look her in the eye because then she could easily tell I was lying; I was and always have been a terrible liar.

"Oh, I see..." She said, looking down at her hands and playing with her lone ring that she wore on her middle finger of her left hand. "So explain to me why you're dressed in those slutty clothes? Hmmm?" She raised one of her eyebrows, acting like she was a know-it-all. "You're hair is a mess and you look a total wreck."

Her bitchyness wasn't helping my hangover at all and I started to get really irritated, grinding my teeth and digging my nails into my palms to keep from screaming my head off. Even though screaming wouldn't help at all. For multiple reasons.

"Thank you, first of all. I love this look." I motioned my hands towards my hair, from which I could tell was pretty much all over the place on top of my head. "And you know what? Sure. Fine. I lied. LIED." As I spoke my voice started to rise; I wasn't gonna take shit from her anymore. Not after 15 years of verbal and emotional abuse. The truth flew out of my mouth so effortlessly it was almost alarming. "I went to the Blood On The Dance Floor concert, and it was one of the best nights of my life. Oh yeah, and you know what else? I met JayyVon Monroe after the concert, and he was over at Red's Tavern. I went over there, thinking, "oh what the hell,' since he picked me out from the damn audience and told me to meet him there. So we went back to their fucking tour bus after a while and he accidentally gave me alcohol, and he was already drunk. Ya know what happened next? I apparently drank wayyyyy more than I thought I had, and got REALLY drunk, and so was he, and we fucked. WE FUCKED!! Without a condom, too! His DICK was INSIDE ME. And he's GAY! GAY GAY GAY!!" By this time I was full-on screaming in her face while she looked up at me wide-eyed, with this weird, confused look on her face. Maybe it was the fact that her dreams had finally came true:

I was the slut she'd always wanted me to be.

I yelled at her for a while longer, with her continuing to stay quiet. I even got so angry that I started crying and shaking violently with rage. My eyeliner smeared all over my face, mixed with my tears that I never thought I could open up this much so quickly. I never believed she'd be so calm about it. I thought she'd be screaming back at me and throwing me against the wall and hitting me and calling me a disgraceful child that she wish she never had.

But that never happened.

What?