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Rated: 13+ · Chapter · Young Adult · #1755857
Ever explains her life and how it feels like to be in love with a girl, who sleeps around.
         "There you go!... You’re finally catching onto one of my pet-peeves.!” I texted to her sarcastically

         She knows when I’m pissed at her. She was hanging out with her “boyfriend” Charles. This kid is the one that I want to kill. Literally. I want his head in a bag floating down the Mississippi river along with his miniature groin organs. The catch of this all? Charles isn’t really her boyfriend. I am. Well, I’m her girlfriend. See, this is the big damaged part of my story. You know the one I have come up with out of pure genius? No, no, no, I'm just kidding. This is factual. Of course there’s a lot to learn. First, I’m Evermore. My nickname (I call this my Alias) is Ever. Evermore Marie Lantier is my full name.  Secondly my girlfriend is Jayde Rodgers, formerly called “baby” because that’s what all girls – mostly all girls – call their significant other. Lastly, we want to be together really badly but our parents don’t… approve? She’s 17 while I'm stuck at being 15. This isn’t good because my mom – Caroline – doesn’t even like the fact that I'm a lesbian, let alone dating a lesbian which will make me “more of a lesbian.” Her dad is one of those Army tough soldier–wanna-be-cool dads who beat his kids to keep them in place… Also… he’s a homophobic. Her mom on the other hand is a whore… she doesn’t care what Jayde does as long as she does it out of the house. Charles is… well… he’s Jayde’s boyfriend who doesn’t know what we’re using him for. His family is rich. Filthy, dirty rich. We’re using him so her father doesn’t realize we’re together. This is mainly because I don’t want her being beat by him and she won’t let me call the cops or rip his head off so… I keep my distance.

Charles is one of those pretty-boy-pimps, who think they’re so gangster- until they’re left in the ghetto for the night and practically shit themselves because they realize now that they’re an insecure little white boy who is as fake as the Ken Barbie doll.          

“Haha, lol.” She texts back finally.          

“What’s that supposed to mean???” I ask completely annoyed now because she’s going to be a bitch.          

“Idk.” She answers.          

“Okay then. Whatever.” I say, now she knows I'm completely upset.          

“Mk. So when you gonna call?” she asks. Which is now the seventeenth time she asks.          

“I have no clue. Considering I am risking pretty much my entire fucking life for you.. I don’t fucking know when I’m going to call.” Is what I want to say.          

“I don’t know. In a few.” Is what I actually say.          

“Okay baby” she texts after 15 minutes exact.          

“Why is it taking you so long to text back. And don’t you dare answer with Idk.” I say extremely pissed off.          

“Idk.” Is exactly… what she answers.          

“What the fuck. Don’t you listen to me ever? Why does it take you so long to text back? Oh wait I fucking forgot your with Charles.” Maybe she’s getting the hint I'm pissed?          

“Idk. And yah I'm with him.” She says without any sign that she’s taking my prissiness.          

“I hate him. I fucking hate him. Why the fuck can’t we just be together and tell your fucking dad to shove whatever homophobic sock he has up his wanna be ass?” I text completely going into a frenzy.          

“Uhhhh because my dad will beat me like he did when he knew we were together.”          

“But that Charles kid isn’t good!!! He wants to have sex with you. YOU SEND HIM NUDES.” I yell to her.          

“Yeah and your point? I send you pics too. Oh fucking well.” She said bitching.          

“Wow. Call me right now. I don’t care if your fucking with that mofo just fucking call me because I'm just so pissed at you I can’t even begin to tell you.”

About 2 minutes and 26 seconds later she actually decides to call.          

“Hello?” I said sounding depressed.          

“Hi. What’s up?” She asked completely unphased by the huge fight we just had.          

“Upset. Listening to screamo.” I said. I emphasize how upset I am with my occasional sigh.          

“Baby I'm sorry for fighting with you. You know how stressed I am and how I just don’t want to deal with my dad.” She said, not really showing she's upset.
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