Rated #2 in Mature Adult! WOW!!
Just read the damn story. Contains INCEST.
PLEASE READ THIS STORY AND LISTEN TO YOUR HEART PART 2 THE PURGE WHILE YOU STILL CAN. I AM THINKING OF DELETING BOTH STORIES. THE STORIES AREN'T AS GOOD AS I HOPED THEY WOULD...
(I extend my right hand toward her back, thinking it wouldn't hurt to ask what was wrong, but before I can say a word, she turns and presses her head against my chest.)
"Oh Finneas! I can't handle this anymore! The endless touring, the constant interviews, the pain in my knees! I just want it all to stop!"
(I sit there, my arms resting gently around her shoulders as she sobs. Finneas? I wonder...who the hell was Finneas?)
"Excuse me...miss?"
(At the sound of my voice, she pulls back and looks at me. Her hair is a mess; her blue eyes are swollen and red from crying. She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.)
"Who the fuck are you?" (She asks.)
"Holy shit...you're Billie Eilish!"
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"Yea...but who the fuck are you?" (She asks again.)
"David. Dropping off a pizza to room 13."
"I didn't order a fucking pizza!" she growls. "Why would I order a pizza if I was planning on killing myself?"
(She had a point I figured.)
"Look, I'm just following the instructions on the pizza box, okay?"
(She stares at me with wide eyes, as if I'm some kind of deranged superfan or something. Then she leans in closer to the pizza box and starts reading the note attached to it.)
"Room 13...Eighteenth floor...listen to your hearts beat? What the hell does that mean?"
"I don't know."
(I tell her about the gypsy woman and what she said to me.)
(She gazes at me thoughtfully for a moment before releasing a sarcastic laugh.)
"Oh my God! That has got to be the most fucked-up, made up story I've ever heard! You came running here, because I need you? We don't even fucking know one another!"
"Yet I pulled you away from the window before you jumped. Maybe that's why I'm here."
She dismisses me with a wave of her hand, and I immediately regretted showing up.)
"Well, pizza guy, congratulations!" (She smirks.) "Looks like you've got yourself one hell of a story to tell. Just another person dicking me over!"
"Story?" (I ask with a puzzled look.)
"OH, C'MON! QUIT FUCKING BULLSHITTING ME, OKAY?" (She yells at me, her eyes brimming with tears.)
"I'm Billie fucking Eilish! Don't you realize how much money you could make by telling a news outlet that you found poor little Billie Eilish in a hotel room having yet another fucking nervous breakdown?"
(She turns away from me, her tears falling once more.)
(I softly wrap my arms around her shoulders, pulling her close. She leans into me, tears streaming down her face, and soon her body starts to tremble.)
(I realize it's a panic attack, recalling that I had read about her experiencing it online. I had no idea what was triggering her panic attack. I knew it had to be something absolutely terrible, hitting right to the core.)
""Shhh," I whisper softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of her head.
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"It's fine. I won't say a word to anyone, I swear."
(She continues to cry for a little while, then raises her head from my chest.)
