[MJFAs 2019 Winner - Best Short Story]
The fourth day of the week.
The day before Friday.
Just any other day.
But to Valerie, it's everything. It's the one day that she belongs to Michael Jackson.
Sex, drugs, and alcohol are his life. He doesn't d...
~Warning: this chapter contains violence. & this song brings this chapter to life, almost like sound effects are added & ooh it'll give you chills. It's crazy. Play when you see the ~
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~'THE HIDEOUT'~
On her way to the apartment, Valerie almost couldn't believe that, 2 years later, she was in the same situation, only she would've been on a one-way flight to Seattle. Once again, a man she loved had crushed her soul, her spirit, and it left her whole body screaming for revenge. She wanted to destroy him the way that he destroyed her. Perhaps it would have been more accurate to say that she was returning the favour.
"I'll kill that motherfucker," she muttered to herself as she retrieved the key from under the mat. "he thinks he can break my heart? I'll break him."
She bit down on her lip as she focused, her movements slow and cautious as she inserted the key into the hole and turned the lock, being careful as to not make a single noise. At last, she typed in the numbers on the keypad, surprised when it granted her access; Michael hadn't changed the code. Valerie slipped inside the residence as silent as a shadow, gently closing the door with a quiet click, her footsteps light as a breath of air as she glided across the room. As she tiptoed up the spiral staircase, she clutched the purse over her shoulder with both hands and reached inside it to feel the hard gun sitting right on top. And then...creak. She lightly gasped and stopped.
"Shit," she whispered, then crept up a step much slower. Then she waited before taking another. She proceeded to make her way up the rest of the stairs with much more caution.
Meanwhile, upstairs in the bedroom, Michael stood closely behind his door; he thought that he heard something. Only, it was so hard to tell with each beat of his heart pounding in his ears. It sounded like controlled footsteps. His first thought was that somebody had broken into his apartment, a stalker or even a crazed fan—besides, it happened before.
Then Valerie's name floated into his mind.
Impossible.
She was over 2 hours away up north in Bakersfield...at least, that's what she told him.
Another creak.
He knew it. There was definitely an intruder lurking about.
Michael locked the door to his bedroom. He paced a few feet over to his bed, where Roxanne, his new Thursday Girl, sat on the edge, horny as a teenager and stripped down to her lingerie. No matter who it was that had invaded his apartment, there was always a possibility that someone could get hurt; and he just couldn't expose others to that danger.
He whispered a warning to her. "You gotta go. O-Or at least hide. You shouldn't be here."
She raised her eyebrows at him. "I just got here and you want me to skedaddle before I even suck your dick?"
