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"Issues."
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The moon light shaded the blinds, smoke clouded the livingroom. A white t-shirt that was now slowly turning brown protected his wound. He blew smoke out his nostrils, he sighed. He was confused why would she cut him? Why would she cut him over a stranger? He couldn't help but wonder about his lovers mental health.
Suddenly only one thought laced around his mind, was he dealing with a crazy woman?
She sniffled running her fingers through her hair. She knew that she was the last person he wanted to see, she just attacked him. But she couldn't let him walk out, she wasn't prepared for him to leave. Taking a deep breath Bree pounded on the door "Open the door Shamar I know you're in there."
The locks shifted, she pushed the door open coming face to face with him. "Where is my daughter?" He croaked.
"Don't worry I called Maria and told h-"
"And told her what? We were fighting in front of her child! What the fuck is worng with you Bree?" He spat.
"I didn't tell her that! What's wrong with you?"
He scoffed staring at her "Whats wrong with me? You really asking me that shit?" Why ask him what's wrong when she's the reason he's not alright? He felt as if she was trying to play the victim in this situation when she was the problem.
She sighed brushing her hands against his chest "I'm sorry Shamar, I'm so sorry." Her acrylics traced lines along his figure. Her hands lingered to his arm where she untied the blood stained shirt "Let me help you with this."
The stench from the cannabis he smoke filled the air. She sat beside him cleaning his wound. The silence between the two became weird, atleast on her end it was. "So.." she decided to break the ice. "This is gonna leave a mean scar.." She muttered.
"Don't try to make light of the situation. I still wanna know what's up with you." He spoke.
She sighed. Either way he would've found out so it would be best that she says it now. Instead of him finding her pills sitting around one day. "A few years back i tried to commit suicide the same way that kid did but someone stopped me.." she paused. Talking about her suicide attempt wasn't easy especially when she spent so many years burying the memory at the back of her mind. But now it was haunting her.
"I have ptsd and some anger issues that i battle with." She blurted out changing the subject. She didn't wanna tell her suicide story it made her skin crawl. It was disturbing.
"Everyone has issues Bree you have issues I have issues there is no such thing as normal, i don't give a fuck about what anyone says normal and perfect doesn't exist so don't feel bad because of your issues."
