Chapter I

Anger Issues

I glare at my friend Jessica.

"Are you serious?" I yell. "You. Are. My. Friend! Why would you tell your friend's business?"

"Wait!" She shrieks. "I was just trying to help! You have a month's dry spell!"

"So you tell all of your other friends? Like I don't have feelings?" I bark. She stands up from the other side of my kitchen table as I lean at her from the other side.

I've gotten mad before, and I've cracked.

I ended up being kicked from a club with a woman bleeding and me hurling insults.

I stand as I continue to bark at her.

"What kind of friend are you? You're terrible, you know that?"

"I was trying to help!" Jessica says.

"How? By telling other people my business in order to have perverts knocking on my door? You know, they were right! People with blonde hair and blue eyes are incredibly stupid!"

"What? That's not true! You think just because you have brown hair and blue "Husky" eyes, that you're some smartass!"

"I'm damn sure smarter than you! You can leave now!"

"I'm your friend!" Jessica says.

"No, you're not. My friend wouldn't tell my business to the world and look at me like they're the victim." I stomp over and open my front door for her.

"You can leave now." I'm pretty sure the words sent a chill down her spine as she watched me hold the door open. She looks as if she didn't want to even come near me, because I might explode on her.

She shimmied her way past me and as soon as her two feet hit my porch, I slammed the door closed.

I could almost hear her shivers.

I stomped over into my kitchen and put my kettle on the stove.

Right now, hot tea and pound cake is the only thing that will settle me.

I need therapy.

I can't believe Jessica.

I told her that I haven't had sex in a month, confidentially, and then she tells me that her friends have a few guys lined up for me.

That she told her friends about my dry spell.

Then she looks at me like she's the victim! Like she's the one who is hurt?

I'm sure she is, and I don't care.

The kettle whistles with pressure as it lets out higher pitches.

Just like my anger.

I take the kettle from the stove and make my tea.

I snuggle into my couch with my tea and cake.

My brown, soft sofa never lets me down.

Should I go to therapy?

No! I don't need therapy. I feel like Jessica got what she deserved. She told my business, so I cut her off. Now she has no more of my business to tell.

Problem solved.

My anger is getting out of hand, though. I'm not letting my anger out properly, and soon, that will backfire.

My doorbell rings.

I swear, if this is Jessica and her snotty friends, I'm going to kick their asses.

I get up and walk over to the doorbell as it rings again.

"I'm coming." I say.

I open the door.

What. The absolute. Hell.

There's a middle aged man with a white t-shirt and boxers on.

"Hello, lady." He says.

"Who are you? How do you know where I live?"

"Well, your friend told me."

"Tell her," I said. "If she gives another stranger my address, I'm going to kill her."

"Stranger?" The man looks at me with seduction in his eyes.

You can't woo me, strange pervert.

"I ain't no stranger, baby. I'm yo' next baby daddy."

I scowl at him.

"Oh please, old man. You aren't even my type!" I slap him across the face as hard as I can.

"You obviously don't have enough **** to be my "baby daddy"!"

I slam my door and lock it.

I peek out the window and look at him as he calls it quits and leaves.

Jessica!

I will kill you if another man knocks on my fucking door!

I sit back down on the sofa.

That son of a bitch Jessica and pervy man.

They're both gonna get it.

I need therapy.

I schedule for therapy tomorrow.

It's already late afternoon, so when should I meet this therapist?

Tomorrow morning?

At Ten?

Nah, I can't. Not yet. Like I said, I don't need therapy.

I check my phone's time.

That man came to my house at seven at night? Real pervy.

I climb into the shower at seven-thirty.

All of the events of the day wash over me like the water and steam in the shower.

I sigh.

I go to bed at nine, because, you know.

I don't have a lover. I haven't had one since I graduated high school two years ago.

I've just been raising my body count, but now....I'm....

Single.

Alone.

In my house, following my dreams of being a dancer.

Without love.

Or a companion.

Or sex.

Just me.

I open my eyes in the middle of the night.

It's my insomnia again.

I can't do anything except lucid dream, or find something to occupy myself with.

I try to lucid dream, silently whispering what I want to dream about to myself.

I slip to my subconscious and wake up in a meadow of endless roses.

They spread as far as the eye can see.

I sit up in the tiny spot I have that's not covered in roses.

I look around.

No one's here, except for her.

Jessica.

"Jessica!" I yell, and she looks at me.

Her blonde hair blows in the wind.

I run at her with pure anger and hatred.

I run at her with the intention to kill.

A dagger appears in my hand.

It has a golden rose design on it.

I begin to run faster. Just a few more feet.

I grabbed her by her throat in a second, jabbing the dagger into her back as I embrace her.

Everything fades from her, and blows away in the wind, like dust.

Now I stare at her ***** body as blood dribbles down and blows away.

How is this possible?

I open my eyes and sit up in bed.

I need therapy.

❤ANNOUNCEMENT

I won't upload chapters as often as I did in my other story, I haven't finished writing this story.

I usually write them elsewhere and then upload here, and edit them.

I'll try to post every week, or as often as I can! Thank you for all of your support, guys! It means a lot, and gives me confidence!❤

1151 words

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