Tumbling Down (Dance Moms Fanfic)

Messages and Movies (Ch.21)

"You literally sleep with everyone you see"

"Ew, why are you even allowed in public?"

"I wonder how many STD's you have"

"Do you smell that bad all the time? Or just when you work your corner?"

"How much do I pay for a good time? 50 cents?"

"Cheap hoe"

"Stuck up bitch"

"Man, no wonder nobody likes you"

"Filthy slut"

And they just keep pouring over Twitter.

I slam my laptop shut.

Tears come just as fast as the tweets.

I'm sitting on my bed, and my hands take a close-by pillow. I shove my face into it, cry-screaming.

Vaguely, I hear my phone ringing. Probably more people telling me how gross I am.

Without looking, I grab my phone and answer. My voice is rough and louder than I expect it to be.

Me: What else do you have to say to me?!
Rock: I now know why you stayed home.

Oh. Shit.

Me: One second.

I put my phone down, taking a deep breath, wiping my eyes. I pick up my phone again.

I try to make my voice sound normal.

Me: Sorry. I thought you were my...sister.
Rock: A: you didn't check the Caller ID? And B: I know you're lying so don't even try.
Me: No and no.
Rock: Oh and why would you tell at Maddie if you obviously care about her being injured?
Me: Uhhh...
Rock: Exactly. Now, do you have dance tonight?

Part of me wants me to lie, and say yes, so I don't have to talk to him, but another part wants me to say no, because I really need to not sit here and cry about it.

Me: No.
Rock: Then I'll be over after I drop my sister off.
Me: Sure whatever. Back door is open. I'm always in my room.

I hang up. I honestly don't care, if he comes or not.

Whilst still holding my phone, it goes off. Stupidly, I look, forgetting my phone has a Twitter app.

"I wonder where she is today? Maybe trying to figure out who the baby daddy is?"

It's still going?!

I throw my phone on the floor, and slam my hands on my desk, which is cluttered with random things that shouldn't be on a desk. It acts more as a shelf now.

Why are they doing this? I don't get it! Whoever this girl is really needs a new hobby. I don't care whether Rock believes it or not, but sooner or later he will, and/or will be ripped away from me. I don't want to be left alone anymore.

I knock a box of pencils off the desk.

The words whirl in my head.

"Whore"

"Slut"

I knock something else off.

"STDs"

"Gross"

Something breaks this time when I push it off.

The faster I think up the messages, the faster things get pushed off my desk.