Finafuckingly
I'm moving out of my parent's house and in with my best friend, wickedeathangel !! Wooooooohooo! I am so freakin' excited! Anyways, I love you wicked and I can't wait to see you tomorrow.. *counts down anxiously*
My car is whacked.
... After finally realizing that chainsmoking, crying and contemplating suicide were going to solve nothing, I moved on to actual solutions. Of course, I thought of several things. I was quite upset, and for a while I contemplated homicide. Of course, that I contemplated it meant that I never intended to do it, but I won't deny thinking about it. And thinking about it made me feel better. Besides, I realized, a long life of torment and pain is more what those involved deserved, and I intended to give it to them.
Well. I eventually decided that given my situation, that I couldn't reveal my knoweledge or it's source, I relied purely on innuendo. I constantly asked Brandon where he was, what he was doing, who he was with, when he would be done, why he was doing it, and it began to irritate him. He knew that something had changed and he thought that it was my fidelity. How motherfucking ironic. When he questioned my fidelity, I said to him, " I'm not cheating on you, and you have no fucking right to ask me that. You know why."
I eventually decided that I loved him enough to forgive him once, on one condition. He had to come to me and tell me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. He had to do this of his on volition, and he had to do it without me prompting him. Yeah right.
I called everyone I could trust and I spoke to them at great length about what Brandon had done to me. I asked them what I should do. I asked them what they would do. I asked them for help to bust his ass, and punish Mike and Tiffany. There were many suggestions. I took none of them. I suffered in absolute silence.(around Bran, Mike, and Tiffany.)
When Brandon snuggled with me I wanted to know if he snuggled with her. When he kissed me I wanted to know if he kissed her. When he tickled me, I wanted to fucking know if he tickled her. I wanted to know if he touched her sides gently when he did it. I wanted to know if he thought she smelled good. I wanted to fucking know everything. I wanted to forgive him and kill him at the same time, or at least beat him unrecognizable with a large blunt object.
And so I had to wait. I had to bide my time and wait. And then, there was a small piece of luck.
My best friend called me and informed me that she had lunch with Tiffany and their mutual friend. Mutual friend let slip that "Tiffany felt bad for keeping it from me."
I had a window. I had a viable window to confront Brandon. Having previously broken down and confronted him when he ostracized me for supposed inappropriate behavior towards the opposite sex, I confronted him again. I said:" I know you were lying. I know you fucking did it. If you'll just own up to it and be a man, I will forgive you." Denial. Denial. Denial. Denial.
About one week later, I was lying in bed with Brandon, and he was snuggling on me ever-so-sweetly and I realized, I could not lie there and imagine her being in my place just one instant longer. I got up, I ran to the bathroom, and I called Lily. She authorized me to do what I thought I had to do, but to protect her and her family. I assured her that I would lie and say I heard rumors at work. She said ok.
So, I knock on Mike's bedroom door, where, within, Jamie and Tiffany were hanging out with Mike. I said "Tiff, can I borrow you for a second? I'll be outside."
So we go outside and she confirms everything I've heard, although with a few major discrepancies. But I didn't care. She confirmed it and I was ready.
We go back inside and the last thing I say to her before we part ways is this "By the way. If Mike ever fucked around on you, I would tell you. In a fucking New York Minute." She says nothing.
I go into Brandon's room where he is still sleeping peacefully, unaware of the tropical storm of rage, depression, and righteous indignation coming towards him in slow, measured steps.
I come down on the bed like a sack of potatoes and calmly remove all my jewelry and anything that might cut him. I place it on the bedside table. I kiss him one more time on the lips, knowing full well that it might be the last time. And I start to shake him. As I'm shaking him I realize that I'm shouting "wake up you fucking bastard we need to fucking talk. Fucking WAKE UP."
To be continued...
Episode III coming soon to an LJ near you...
I LOVE WIKKY!