awful things - cinira (nyiah's) pov
may 1st 2022 ...
"you being weird!" i tell chris, pulling at my hair.
"i don't know what's yo problem, man." he throws his hands in the air. "i'm tryna have fun, you always doing too much."
his definition of 'having fun' always include us almost fuckin' and i don't want that. i don't know how many times i have to tell him, and that shit get me so frustrated. i hate not being listened to.
i hate when people just disregard whatever i got going on to just to worry about themselves.
"i been telling you to get off me for the past ten minutes!" i yell, feeling my face get hot. "what have you not understood?"
"ight, man quit all that screamin! you look stupid as hell right now, nyiah!" he yells back.
my face falls, but the anger i'm feeling still all up in my body. it's not even like me to shut up when somebody tell me to, i don't know why i'm doing it.
'i hate chris.' i think to myself, the music and people talking amongst themselves very audible from downstairs. 'i hate chris 'cause parties supposed to be fun, and he's making me uncomfortable.'
i wanna tell him all that, but i don't.
"fuck you," i mumble, bringing my cup to my lips so i can take a sip, but i pause, staring at the color of the drink inside of the cup.
it's supposed to be cognac but it looks kinda blue. like, somebody poured something in here..
"did i.. pick up the wrong cup?" i ask, tilting the cup so i can really get a look at the liquid inside.
i'm trying to convince myself it's the bathroom's lightning, but no, this shit look weird. "chris."
"ain't nobody mess with your drink, why would you say something like that?" he asks as if he got the nerve to be offended. "you need to chill."
all i can do is narrow my eyes at him, placing the cup down as i hop off the sink counter. "i didn't say shit about somebody putting something in my drink."
a look of panic flashes across his face for a quick second and i just prepare myself for all the lies ready to come up from his mouth like throw-up.
"..ay, nyiah, i ain't even.." he trails off, pulling a bag of dark green pills. "i.. ain't even-"
"even what?!" i shove chris hard as hell and he breathes threw his nose heavily when his back collides against the wall.
he don't even have to say it, 'cause i know.
"don't put yo hands on me like i'm some type of a bitch or something-" he starts and i push him again, hitting him across his head.
"you" i hit him. "so" i hit him again. "fuckin' stupid!" i yell, finally smacking him, the bracelets on my wrist immediately slicing a cut on his face, to which he winces at.
"get off of me!" he screams, almost letting his hands up to protect his face.
and at that, i turn my face up 'cause he not even all that cute to be tryna make sure his face don't get hurt.
"move around cinira! get yo abusive ass away from me!" he spits and i tilt my head, a laugh escaping my lips. "you think you got room to talk? you tried to drug me so we can have sex! you a whole rapist!"
he shakes his head. "no, i ain't. we ain't do shit. yo ass lame.."
we stand there for awhile until i finally grab the cup and pour it down the sink, turning back to face chris.
