Wanted For Pleasure: vol 3

|26| I'm tired

𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨
﹥━━━━━━━━━━﹤

Everything I've worked so hard for, building my relationship with Morgan for three years now, has been threatened for the last time. I don't think there's any way I'll be able to recover from this one. It's not something we can sweep under the rug this time. I have a kid.

Sabrina isn't the problem here— thankfully she'll remain behind bars and this alleged child won't even know who she is— but it's the fact that she's the mother anyway. It makes my skin crawl. I knew she was a sick individual when I first laid eyes on her, no one with that much plastic in their bodies gives a shit about themselves let alone others.

I know I shouldn't have ever let her get close to me. What was supposed to be a one night stand to get over my broken heart turned into a never-ending cycle of living in a constant state of fear, wondering when she would strike next. Oh, I bet she's laughing her ass off at this - she got the last laugh. This shit isn't funny at all.

When I worked at Black Elk Lodge back in Penshaw, I slept with my fair share of girls. They all ended up wanting relationships or whatever the fuck. I had a couple of crazies here and there, some grade A creepers. It was enough for Alvin and Sherry Jones to start the rumor that I "make girls go crazy." Honestly, it's not something I'm proud of. I should've kept it in my fucking pants!

You know the worst part? That I can't take it back. I'm constantly wondering what life would be like if I hadn't met Sabrina, or her father, her sister, too, and Beck Jordan.

Somehow, Malcolm always comes to mind. Why do I feel like everything goes back to him? In some weird, twisted way, my brain can't help but to blame him for all the things I don't seem to have an answer for. Like, all the evil things I endure and can't wrap my brain around, I just make it up in my head that it's his fault. I'd bet it was, well, if it wasn't for the fact that he was dead. Even though Sabrina was "lucky" enough to survive that fall, I know for a fact Malcolm Jameson is burning in hell. This isn't a movie, he doesn't get a redemption story. If it were a movie, though, could we skip to the part where I wake up and realize this was all a nightmare? Sure as shit feels like one.

Hell am I supposed to do? Go up to my fiancé and say, "hi, babe, I know we're getting married but remember the lady that tried to kill you and ruin our relationship, well she is still alive and— surprise— we have a son. Don't worry, though, Sabrina is dying soon. Oh, and yes, I'm going to raise the kid. K, thanks for understanding."
How dumb is that? Extremely.

I'm tired of being a fuck up, the terrible teammate in this partnership. I'm holding Morgan back. My fiancé doesn't deserve all of this. Really, I think she knows it, too, but she's too good of a fucking person to leave me. I'll never understand how she can be that strong. At what point is she no longer strong, but dumb?
At the end of the day, it's all about respect. And that's why I'm doing this, because I respect Morgan way too much. Or maybe I don't respect her enough, or none of this would've happened. Either way, I'm the problem and with no foreseeable way to fix it, I'm just going to remove myself from the equation.

A letter won't suffice, and I can't bring myself to listen to the heartbreak in Morgan's voice when I tell her I'm not returning to Nashville.

This is the only way.