"Bestie!?", he called.
'Don't talk to me, nigga. You make me sick', she hissed walking into her bedroom.
"Bae, don't be like dat. You know that I was only looking out for your ass, girl", he said following behind her, grasping her by the arm pulli...
I wish that he would leave me alone. I wish that they all would would leave me alone.
"Morgan, can we talk?", he asked.
I rolled my eyes, "Can you leave me alone?", I retort.
"No", he sighed.
"There is your answer", I said snidely.
"Okay. Then your stubborn ass be quiet and listen", he leered.
"Chris, get the hell out", I dismissed.
"I did not cheat on you intentionally", he said.
"Bruh, I was born at night, not last night", I tisked.
"Why are you not willing to listen to me? If you love me even a little bit still you will let me explain. You would have some faith in me to know that I would never hurt you like that", he spat.
"Awe, is that it?", I cooed sarcastically.
He became angry. His eyes narrowed dangerously, nostrils flaring as his skin darkened from the rush of blood. Did I care though? Nope.
"Fuck you, Anise", he snapped before leaving.
"You already did, bitch", I called after him.
Boom!
I jumped startled as the door slammed shut, the lock clicking into place.
"The fuck was that, Anise!? I ain't hear you properly! Say that shit to my face!", Christopher spat towering over me.
"I did not stutter, nigga", I sneered.
"I thought so", he muttered.
Girl, he choked and fucked me. I could not even be mad anymore, at that moment at least. All I felt was immense pleasure as he dug me out.
However, it was in the moment that I had orgasmed that my mind became clear once again. The pain, frustration, and anger all hit me at once. And I cried. I cried in his arms while he was still buried inside of me kissing on my neck.
I kicked him out. I regretted allowing him back into my bed so easily. I said that I was done with him, our relationship. Yet, not even a full day later I was allowing him back between my legs. I was feeling ashamed.
"Hey, Morgan. It it check up time"
I forced a small smile onto my face as I adjusted my body to sit up on the bed to make everything easier for the both of us.
"Hey, Ms. Trudy. How are you doing today?", I said politely to my nurse.
Ms. Trudy is a fifty-three years young Palestinian woman that does not look a day over thirty-five. In the past couple of days she has been the mother I never had. Between her and my doctor, I have been well taken care of.
"Girl, what did I tell you about calling me Ms. Trudy?", she chided picking up my charts flipping through it.
I pouted, "To call you Mama Tru or get my big behind put over your knee", I mumbled.
"Uhm-hmm. You better start addressing me right. Now let me check on you and hopefully my future grandson", she said with a smile.
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