Widow or Divorcee?
Day One.
You could hear everything crackle. The smoke inhalition by Aribelle made her cough hysterically. I tried to find a window or something in the kitchen, but the smoke was blocking my eyes. I had covered Aribelle's with a washcloth. I once again called for Jamia, but she hadn't answered me. I worried for the worst, as I walked into a table. The kitchen was on fire, I just happened to be in that room. Finding a door way, I closed the door to stop the smoke, some still seeping in through the cracks.
"Jamia!" I screeched. When I didnt hear anything, only the fire sirens from outside, tears started forming as I thought for the worst. A fireman broke down my door and advised me to get out since I was holding a baby. I quickly ran outside. I handed a nurse my baby, and ran inside. They tried to stop me, but it didnt work. I ran upstairs to where Jamia was taking a nap, and slammed down the door. Of course, the room was right above the kitchen, so when I saw Jamia screaming inside the fire, surrounding the bed, I was crying horribly.
A fireman came in, and pushed me back as they tried to save her. I knew why she was screaming. The fire was burning her skin and it hurt her so badly. I sat against the wall crying. Just crying until the smoke made it painful to cry. I stood up, faint from all the smoke inhalation, and stumbled outside, falling down into the soft grass. A nurse helped me up, and gave me a pump to get some fresh air. When I finally got some good breaths, I broke down crying.
+
"Your a stripper," I shouted at Eliza. She stared at me like I was a complete psycho. But catching her in a corset and thong at the Mixtape Gentleman's Club with my best friend there, I guess that totally makes her a stripper. She gives him lap dances that she has never even tried on me. It was horrible thing.
"Im not a stripper Gerard, dont tell me I am!" Her eyes, her gorgeous hazel eyes and her bleach blonde hair weren't the same. She had on contacts so she had purple eyes, and a brown wig. "Gerard, im not a stripper, dont ever call me that."
I seated myself on the window seat, and she sat beside me. She was more like a slut then a stripper. Her boobs were busting out of the three sizes to small corset top. I shook my head, "Thats right. Your not a stripper. Your a slut." Her eyes went wide, and she broke into tears and she ran upstairs. Marc, who was nine and Derrik, who was thirteen walked into the room.
"What the hell was that?" Derrik shouted, pointing at their mother crying on the stairs. Apparently not able to get her body up the stairs. I sighed. I had to tell my kids.
"Your moms a whore. She will no longer be your mother." And her cries were ten times louder.
"Jamia!" I screeched. When I didnt hear anything, only the fire sirens from outside, tears started forming as I thought for the worst. A fireman broke down my door and advised me to get out since I was holding a baby. I quickly ran outside. I handed a nurse my baby, and ran inside. They tried to stop me, but it didnt work. I ran upstairs to where Jamia was taking a nap, and slammed down the door. Of course, the room was right above the kitchen, so when I saw Jamia screaming inside the fire, surrounding the bed, I was crying horribly.
A fireman came in, and pushed me back as they tried to save her. I knew why she was screaming. The fire was burning her skin and it hurt her so badly. I sat against the wall crying. Just crying until the smoke made it painful to cry. I stood up, faint from all the smoke inhalation, and stumbled outside, falling down into the soft grass. A nurse helped me up, and gave me a pump to get some fresh air. When I finally got some good breaths, I broke down crying.
+
"Your a stripper," I shouted at Eliza. She stared at me like I was a complete psycho. But catching her in a corset and thong at the Mixtape Gentleman's Club with my best friend there, I guess that totally makes her a stripper. She gives him lap dances that she has never even tried on me. It was horrible thing.
"Im not a stripper Gerard, dont tell me I am!" Her eyes, her gorgeous hazel eyes and her bleach blonde hair weren't the same. She had on contacts so she had purple eyes, and a brown wig. "Gerard, im not a stripper, dont ever call me that."
I seated myself on the window seat, and she sat beside me. She was more like a slut then a stripper. Her boobs were busting out of the three sizes to small corset top. I shook my head, "Thats right. Your not a stripper. Your a slut." Her eyes went wide, and she broke into tears and she ran upstairs. Marc, who was nine and Derrik, who was thirteen walked into the room.
"What the hell was that?" Derrik shouted, pointing at their mother crying on the stairs. Apparently not able to get her body up the stairs. I sighed. I had to tell my kids.
"Your moms a whore. She will no longer be your mother." And her cries were ten times louder.