Day 1; Part 2

It didn't take much of a rocket scientist to know exactly what was going on. Of course my dad was right. Of course, I was the dumb ass in all of this. How could I believe that Chris would be that loyal to me - to us? That son-of-monkeys'-ass!

The fire boiled from veins, to the numb organs, to finally seeming to seep from every pore of my skin. If bleeding could spontaneously com-bust right at the very moment - the laminate flooring would be pooling with red liquid.

Suddenly, the bedroom door flung open, chiseled torso stood bared with a sheen of sweat glistening with the sun light streaming through the wide open front door. I wasn't exalt in the mind set to be polite, and shut it behind me.

"Sadie..." he cooed the dearest tone he could manage - like the first time he spoke to me - the charm radiated from his throat.

I immediately fought the urge to hold down the bile that had been building since leaving dads. "I never wanted you to find out this way..." the cooing continued.

This way? I spattered around my head. "This..." I motioned the small space between him and I "...was all a joke." I grinned harshly. I actually fell into that tired old repeating record shit. Me! If I had to learn anything from my mom, it would have been better at picking the best looking dog of the litter.

  Should never fall for the puppy eyes; the pecs; smile; the dick that you try to work with, and convince him he is the biggest in all the land. Yes, baby, you are the biggest I have ever had inside of me. The worst imaginable thought finally popped what was left of my deflating perfect bubble: I am my mom, and Chris is - was - my dad.

'You were supposed to stay at your dads' 'til later.' He accused.

'Whoa.' My hand slicing into the air, cutting him off. '...Are you seriously, talking? Is this your argument?' I am such a moron; a hairy buffoon for having been with this...this...petulant boy.

'Not an argument, Sadie.' He smirked. 'We never discussed when, and if we were ever going to be exclusive. At least, I never did.' He lost interest in the debate as he rolled off the wall with his shoulder; going towards the kitchen to the refrigerator. Placing a bottle of water to his lips.

'I'm guessing all the pounding in the sheets has left you parched?' I said with disdain.

He tilted back slightly with a shit-eating-grin. 'You know it.'

'How could you, just go be with someone else so easily?' My voice quivering from holding onto my poise from his betrayal. I came off pitiful. And that, of all things, pissed me completely off. 'Regardless, if we ever had that 'are we this? Or 'are we that?' discussion, still should give some merit to our relationship, and yes, we do...did...have a relationship.'

I've seen this happen over and over with my parents; friends, and I for one, have no care in having my life be run by some jerk-off dud, who's main trial in life is to get as much 'poo-nan' as he can get before the impotence kicks in from all the beer chugging, and the body enhancing drugs that give him that credible body.

If you ask me, he is as much a fake as a girl who get s boob-job for glorified attention. Fake, with a slice of narcissism. "Couldn't've you just said something. I deserve that at least.' I swallowed the swelling knot down to the pit of my stomach.

Much as I didn't want to show emotion, it wasn't as easy to keep it settled. It was possible to lose it right then and there. I pictured being anything that was capable of battling evil, in any shape or form; something that was capable of holding ground with a face of stone.

'Sadie, you ok?' He asked. Sincerity sensed, but, at this point, do I own him, even that? Nope.

I came to realize his hand was placed upon my shoulder. I was repulsed by his touch. I shrugged it off like you would if a bug had just crawled unexpectedly up your arm. 'Unless, you want that hand for your next masturbation session, I'd re-think touching me, ever.' My eyes radiating in fire.

I felt nauseous; I felt dizzy; I felt completely out of control; out of my body. Is this really happening? Am I dreaming this whole entire morning? I want to kill; I want to hurt him. I should leave before I do something that may become an unmeasurable mistake.

'I should go.' I croaked. As I turned for the door, I was hit with a need to know. A feeling of getting to see who was interjecting themselves between, Chris and I. My hand fell from the door-knob. I tensed my jaw. 'Who is it?' Words escaping my mouth before I knew that they had. A reaction of speaking without thinking moment.

"What?" he mirrored back.

I swirled around with a thousand glares of death hurdling towards him. "Who. Is. It?' I asked again.

"Do you really need to know that?" Shrugging with no intent of telling. As if it wasn't a big deal. It was a HUGE revolutionary deal to me.

I blew past him with the angst of a category five tornado. You continue that naïve approach, all you want, I'm not waiting to keep playing a guessing game. 'This isn't just your life, you stool sample, its' mine too.'

Let's just get it over with. I paused at the door. My heart pounding with the beat of tribal drums at the climax of some ceremony. Admittedly, I honestly didn't want to go through this door. This door that holds the destructor of my crumbling world. The world, where now, I was alone. The world I had to rebuild from the damage done. The tumbled pieces I made, and helped scrap away. I fled from the thoughts.

I huffed through my nose. My eyes tightly tensed for a second. Flaring open with the heave of the wood door - I entered.