Drama Never Ends

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“How does she know?” I ask as soon as T walks in. Today he came home from the hospital, and I was waiting for him right here in front of the door. I’m so angry I don’t even care how tired he is. We need to talk.

“What?” He asks. I thought he’d be annoyed with me, but he just looks confused. Well I don’t care—I have a strong feeling he knew that Blac Chyna knew about my…thing.

“How did Chyna know? She’s the one that had been sending me those letters, you know. So tell me, T. Who told her?” I ask with a stern voice.

He drops his bags, keys, and mail on the counter and takes me gently by the wrist and pulls to sit down on the couch. T sits down, but I stand up. I’m too angry to sit.

“Let’s talk about this.” He says.

“Yeah, let’s talk about it. Because it’s kind of strange how I asked you a question and YOU HAVEN’T ANSWERED.” I’m screaming now.

“Whoa, Jaydi. Calm down, alright? First of all, congratulations on finding out who was sending the letters. But I don’t know what else you’re talking about.” T explains.

“Oh, just shut up T. You ____ well know what I’m talking about. How did Chyna find out about our situation? Did you tell her after I told you? Because if you did, that means you spoke to her. So were you lying to me when you told me that you haven’t spoken to her in a whole month?” I ask.

“Jaydi, you’re stressing yourself out right now. And that ain’t good for the baby. So I’m gonna help you stop stressing out. So here’s the truth: no, I haven’t spoken to Chyna in a month. Yes, I’m the reason she knows about the baby.” T says in a soft voice.

Now I’m a little confused.

“If you haven’t spoken to her in a month, how is it that you’re the reason she knows? I just found out two weeks ago.” I say. T sighs, and I know he’s about to tell me something I don’t want to hear.

“The night that I cheated on you with Chyna, I told her. Remember that same day, when we went to the beach together and I tried to teach you how to swim? I went underwater and you were staying above. That month, it was about the time that you usually have your period. But that day you didn’t have your period. That was strange to me. So the night I cheated on you with Chyna, I told her you might be pregnant. And she said you probably are. But I told her you hadn’t tried a test yet.”

I’m too surprised to speak, so he continues.

“I guess when she sent you that letter, she assumed that you hadn’t tried a pregnancy test yet. So she sent you one to mess with your brain. The second letter she sent, the one that was talking about a baby shower, she said that because she already knew you were pregnant since I told her that night.”

I’m O.D. shocked. Like, I don’t even know what to say. So T knew all this time? He was just fronting like he was so surprised when I told him? What the hell?

Alright, it’s time to get ratchet.

“You know what T? Get your lying a** out of here! I’m tired of this s*** with you! Just get the f*** out! Now! Don’t come back for two days—by then I’ll be back in LA. I don’t need to see your face right now. Go f**** whoever you want to—Chyna, Honey, whoever. I.DON’T.CARE! Get out before I gotta put another bullet in you’re a**!”

By the time I get to say the last sentence, T is already halfway down the block, and everyone is standing outside of their houses staring at me curse him out. But I don’t care—he needed it.

Two Days Later.

Guess who I can’t stop thinking about? Yeah, you’re right—T.

I mean, why did I flip out on him like that? Am I crazy? I should be happy he even told me the truth! But it’s still wild how he knew all along. Like, give a sister a warning, bro.

But anyway, I’m back in LA now. I ain’t letting NOBODY know that I’m back. I’m too tired for that paparazzi s***. I’m only here because 1) I needed to get away from T, even though know I miss him, and 2) I got an e-mail from one of those detectives saying that it’s okay for me to visit Camilla in the crazy house.

I’m wearing a black hoody, dark blue skinny jeans, and brown Coach sneakers. My hoody is on my head and I’m wearing shades. I seriously don’t want to be seen. But I guess no one will recognize me, since I dyed my hair brown recently.

The crazy house is O.D. far. I had to take a bus to get there. It’s a really big building, with a gate. I had to give my idea to the security guard inside, and when he saw who I was he asked me for an autograph. Ugh.

Two women in white lab coats came with me on the elevator to go up to Camilla’s room. They say every man that comes into the room, she thinks it’s T and she goes crazy. So only women can go in, and she’s calm.

On the thirtieth floor, it’s all white. There are doors on either side and one floor window. We have to push through some double doors, take a turn, and Camilla’s room is the first on the right.

Both women follow me into the room. They’re protecting me.

The room is big. There’s a twin bed in the corner, and a bedside table. The walls are made of this weird foam material that can’t be broken. They only use that for the real nut jobs.

I guess Camilla has been acting really crazy.

I sit down in front of Camilla. She’s sitting on the floor (the floor is soft, because of the foam) picking at a loose thread on the linen pants she’s wearing. I don’t speak to her—I want to wait to see how long it takes for her to look up.

She doesn’t.

“Camilla? It’s me, Jaydi.” She looks up at me finally. Then her eyes widen when she sees me. Her hands drop from the loose thread and she just stares at me. I don’t know what she’s about to do, but then she head-butts me. She hits me right in the forehead with her hard skull.

The women leave, screaming that they’re going to get help. I’m wondering why one of them didn’t stay to help me while Camilla jumps on me and starts punching me in the side.

Alright, it’s time to get ratchet—again.

“B****? Get the f*** off of me!” I yell. I push her to the ground and punch her in the face. I’m not scared anymore, so I don’t walk away. I pull at her hair and then she tries punching me in the stomach. I push my knee into her crotch area, and I know it hurts because she screams.

Then we’re going hard, rolling around on the ground and fighting each other. Camilla definitely got stronger—her punches hurt.

After what seems like a million years, the two women come back into the room with about five doctors. They break us up, and the doctors keep asking me if I’m okay. My head hurts and the side of my mouth is bleeding, but I tell them I’m fine. I feel good for fighting Camilla.

Camilla’s nose and the side of her mouth are bleeding. She has some bruises on her face and legs. We’re both out of breath. While the doctors put her in handcuffs, she stares at me with an evil look.

“That was fun, babe. Maybe next time we can finish up. And oh, I almost forgot to tell you—when you and me first met T, T and I had sex.” She says to me.

I walk over to her, spit right in her face, and walk out. 

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