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Day: Friday, April 2nd, 2017 Time: 4:00pm Location: Dallas, Texas
TAYMOR MCINTYRE.
"What's going on with you? You seem off." Paris asked with a look of concern.
I sighed. "It's been a lot going on and I don't even know what to do."
"Talk."
I ran my hands down my face and looked back at her. "Jonathan has-" I stopped myself and shook my head. My eyes began glistening and my bottom lip trembled but I took a deep breath and sucked the shit up cause it was no reason of crying. I've already cried enough.
"Jonathan has what?" She furrowed her eyebrows.
"He-he's been-been abusing me." I pushed the words out.
"What?!" Her eyes almost popped out her head. "It's been going on for a month and I'm tired of it." I expressed.
"I kept wondering where all those bruises were coming from." She said referring to the welts that always formed after Jonathan beat on me. Last week I had a purple ring around my wrists from how tight he put the hand cuffs on me and the week before I had a cut on my back from him beating me with the belt buckle. A bruise on the side of my face that I made up a story about so that everyone who seen it could stay off my back of how I got it.
I attempted to cover them up but they were so bad that make up didn't help.
"After everything me and him both went through with kentrell that day I never would of thought he would've laid his hands on me." I said.
"Why is he beating on you?"
"Because of what kentrell did to us and since he can't kill ken cause he's in jail, he's punishing me." I explained Jonathan reasoning. "And he thinks I set him up that day."
Paris fist clenched together. "Who the fuck do he think he is! You've been dealing with this bullshit with kentrell and he has the audacity to lay his dirty ass hands on you?!" She said. "Fuck he this he is!" She hopped off the couch. Paris went into her living room closet, pulling her Glock out. She changed the clip and closed the closet door, walking back over to me.
"I'm about to kill this nigga." She put her shoes on. "Lets go!" She told me.
"No!" I grabbed the gun from her hand.
"What the fuck do you mean no?"
I sighed. "I mean I still care for him and I don't want no one laying a finger on him."
"So you're telling me, he can beat on you but you don't want nobody touching him? Are you fucking crazy?"
"No." I spoke quietly.
"Please don't do anything, I'll figure away to get me and him some help. Please don't take matter into your own hands P." She stayed quiet.
