This is why we can't have nice things by Taylor Swift

Here's a toast to my real friends, they don't care about the "he said, she said" And here's to my baby, he ain't readin' what they call me lately.

9th January 2022 — The day after Avery's one year ball:

"You got everything packed?" Grayson's voice echoes in my ears over the paranoid voices haunting my mind.

"P?" He repeats, trying to snap back my attention. "You okay Baby?" He mutters, tilting my chin with his thumb to look at him.

I feel my lip quiver and before I know it i'm bawling. "Don't cry." He soothes as he hugs me, stroking my hair up and down.

"I don't wanna leave you." I sob into his shoulder. "You're acting like we'll never see each other. I swear to you, every chance we get we'll see each other. We'll call every night." He promises me.

"You promise?" I look up to him with doe eyes and let out a cry when he frowns and sticks out his pinky. I interlock his with mine and press our foreheads together.

"I love you always, baby." He nods against me, kissing against my nose softly. "Always and forever." I agree, the tears on my cheeks dripping down to his shirt and wetting it.

And then he holds me. He holds me until I leave for the airport. He holds me with an arm over my shoulder all the way to the gates. And then he held me like he'd never see me again. And then he let me go.

24th November 2022 — Thanksgiving:

I sit alone in my roommate and I's lousy kitchen, microwaving a prepackaged turkey and mash potatoes meal. All alone on Thanksgiving. Frankly feeling thankful for nothing at this sour point in time.

I told Grayson not to call me when they were having dinner despite his protests, mostly because I didn't want to bum them all out, but mostly because I don't want to bum myself out.

All my roommates have gone home for the holiday. I'm stuck here teaching a bunch of sticky tweens how to cartwheel and pirouette. 

"To anyone who's listening, I'm thankful for money, dance, my tits and Grayson. And you know, my family or whatever. A-fucking-men." I grit as I aggressively rip my dry ass turkey up and swallow it with a groan.

My phone pings, I flip it over anticipating a text from Grayson. 

Unknown number: Don't worry Sweetheart.. I'm listening x

I actually snort at anyone texting the word 'Sweetheart' these days, that's until I retrace my previous words and feel my stomach drop in terror.

"What the fuck." I groan, feeling like i'm going to throw up.

I have a very memorable feeling i'm about to be murdered.

I rise to my feet and immediately start to call up Grayson. Maybe he's surprising me with a last minute trip home and he's pranking me? He picks up within four rings. He looks happy to hear from me, wearing his adorable suit.

"Say hi to Paris guys." He passes his phone around everyone — yes, everyone — at the table until I finally snap.

"Put Grayson on!" I yell. Everyone's smiles drop and the phone is quickly passes back to Grayson.

"You okay baby?" He says, now donning a new tone of worry.

"Where are you?" I ask firmly. "At home?..." He stares at me puzzled.

"Gray I need you to swear to me right now you are at home and not pranking me." I demand.

"P, you can see the dining room.. Why would I be pranking you? What's going on?" He raises his pitch with worry.

"Nothing.." I trail off, pouncing to my feet and grabbing a kitchen knife.

"Is that a knife?!" Grayson yells.

"Yeah. I need you to stay on this call with me." I say firmly as I start to walk around the kitchen with the knife held firmly, trying to find something.

"Why?" He demands.

"Because I need you to be able to call an ambulance if this motherfucker decides to kill me." I say nonchalantly, paying no attention to the call.

"Paris what the fuck!" Grayson snaps, the joy from all around the once buzzing Thanksgiving table dissipates as everyone listens in.

"It's fine." I shake off. "If you don't tell me what's going on right now-"

I sigh, cutting him off. "Someone's in my house. Once the pussy actually comes out of hiding I'll be able to tell you who." I shout loudly, an angry and gravely voice.

"Call the cops." I hear Grayson tell someone. "I'm flying over there." Grayson decides, standing up.

"Now what's that gonna do? So you can give my corpse one last hug goodbye." I snarl. 

"You want me to just sit here and pretend there's not a threat to your life? I think i'll pass." He grits.

"Well you were fine leaving me alone otherwise. Now suddenly someone's in my house and you're all 'ooh Paris i'm flying over to see you'." I mimic.

"I'm sorry but I think my girlfriend's life being at stake qualifies for a day off work more than a Thanksgiving one off hookup. My apologies." He quips.

"I dunno Grayson. I thought you liked our one off hookups, considering you've made time for me once in the past ten and a half months." I scoff.

"Could you try focusing on getting out of that house instead of making arguments." He tilts his head begrudgingly.

"Why would I get out of this house? I'm facing this guy head on." I fire back.

"And what makes you think you're qualified to face this guy?" He mocks. "Maybe the self defense classes i've been taking the past 10 months." I raise. 

"Oh that's great. Let's just hope this guy is the equivalent to the 40 pound punching bag you're practicing against." He scorns.

"Yeah well just as long as he's not more than 120 pound punching bag I actually use. Or heavier than the 80 pounds I bench. Or thicker than the 3 inch wood plank targets I practice knife throwing with. Oh gee! Maybe I'm just too fragile and small to face anything other than a smudge in my makeup. I guess that's why I called my big strong man to fly halfway across the country just to save me!" I mock with a bitter growl.

"That is all.. so incredibly attractive to think about- but I'm mad at you so instead i'm gonna say, yeah you do need my help." Grayson fires back proudly.

"Well fuck you then. Don't bother coming. Just have Avery call the cops for me. I wouldn't want you to have to bother yourself." I smile before hanging up, slipping the phone in my pocket I continue searching.

I ignore the continuous buzzing in my pocket. 

"Come out bitch! I'll fucking kill you." I scream through the house.

 Before I can find the guy, cops rally outside my house, swarming inside with their guns out as they yell and run around with their guns.

One female officer grabs me firmly by the forearms and detains me as she drags me out of my own house, tearing the knife from my hand.

She has me sit down in the cop car while they raid my house for the guy. As I wait here safely I get my phone out again.

About a thousand texts from all my friends. Endless calls from Grayson, continuing on and on and on.

In pure spite of him I call Avery instead. Jameson is the one to pick up, quickly scrambling to call everyone over.

Grayson grabs the phone furiously. "Don't fucking do that." He fumes. "I'm sorry I didn't realize you owned me. My apologies sir." I frown mockingly.

"It's not funny Paris. I was worried about you." He warns. "I'm fine." I settle with a sigh.

"Cops are checking the house out now. They haven't found anyone yet, they're suspecting it's just a prank. I won't be able to call you tonight cause the cops are taking my phone to track the number." I list monotonously.

I hear sighs of relief as Grayson walks away from the others. 

"How are you?" He questions. "I'm just grand, Grayson." I smile falsely.

"P.." He sighs. "I'm terrified. I know I could've took them on, but knowing that the cops haven't found anything yet is making me feel paranoid that someone'll be in there when I finally get back in." I vent.

"It's okay to be worried, baby. I don't want you staying there, tell the cops I want you to stay somewhere safe and protected." He decides gently, dropping whatever argument we had perviously.

"Yeah. At least I have a fun story for therapy on Monday." I joke. "How's that going?" He questions.

"It's okay." I shrug off. "Paris." He warns. "I'm fine." I sustain the words I've exercised way too much recently. "Paris." He repeats.

"I gotta go." I burst in before he makes me talk about it. "P.." He trails off.

"It's fine. I love you." I say plainly.

"I love you baby, just remember. 30 days. I'll see you on Christmas eve." He says promisingly.

"31 days. Promise?" I whimper. "Promise. Always." He nods assuringly.

"Forever and always." I repeat.

God. I love how he calls me baby. It's his own special nickname for me...

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

Grayson's nickname for me is Baby. Don't worry sweetheart. I'm listening. The words haunt my mind like a ghost in a haunted house.

Sweetheart. Only one person has ever called me that before. Only one fucking person. Danny. It's Danny. He's back from the dead. Shut up Paris, he can't have risen from the dead.

He killed himself. Did he? Holy shit. What if he didn't. What if that was all a big coverup so he could get back at me in the long run.

Either way. I'm fucked.