Britney’s whole pregnancy scare pushed me to my own selfish existence. It was like something just snapped… much like JC. Too much sex? Too little sex? Too much JC? Whatever it was, that pushed me on the verge of madness.
I went out for several days. Britney worried. Sent JC and Joey. I was “courting” a stripper outside a club. They followed me to a hotel and confronted me.
JC threatened, Joey forced. All that came out of everything was a large bloody mess. Joey left, freaked himself out. JC attacked the girl as she was trying to run away. Ripped the flesh right off. He puhed in her eyes……
I was in the corner checking out the bruises Joey left me. I couldn’t see them, but feel them? Oh yes. I could feel the broken blood vessels. I started cutting -- only to scratch the surface to see if they’d bleed through -- but it felt great the deeper the knife dug in. I went deeper, deeper… I bled a lot. My hands were covered in blood…. JC…
He was burning the edge of a spoon and placing it on the girl’s thigh. The room had a light scent of burnt flesh. I stood behind him, watching… admiring… H-A-P-P-Y B-I-R-T-H-D
I attacked him. I didn’t mean to. I just did. Never warned him. Never spoke his name. I cut him, punched him, kicked him, stabbed, spit, bit. I forgot who he was. Call it a jealous lover’s torrent. I only saw what I wanted. What I remembered.
Gennie. I screamed over and over. Louder and filled with hatred. Gennie. Not JC, I said not. But Gennie. His Gennie. Her.
JC pushed me off.
He left.
Now I remember…
It’s been a few hours since JC was in the room. Complete shock took over my whole body. I’m still in the back of the bus; JC went to the front with Britney. At least I think he’s there. I can hear him. I heard them fucking around. JC moans. Britney sighs. They almost seem happy with one another.
Sick, really.
I sit in the back, thinking and contemplating all the shit that happened between JC and I.
JC knows. He knows about Gennie, but he continues to threaten me for sleeping with Justin. Cover up? Could be. Denial? Must be memory loss. Yeah right.
Footsteps. Shit. He’s coming. Literally.