Are We Demented Or Am I Disturbed


Jaelyn woke up and peeled herself off of Joey's chest. She looked at him. e looked so peaceful. She started laughing at how innocent he looked. He opened one eye.

"What," Joey said.
"You look just like Billie." She laughed even harder.
"No shit? It's not like he's my dad or anything."
"I know, but still." She collapsed on top of Joey, still laughing.
"You're a loser." Joey said.
"You are!"
"You kissed a loser."
"Well..." Joey trailed off.
"I can't breathe." She giggled. He kissed her head.
"There is something wrong with you, babe." She hugged him and slowly stopped laughing.
"I'm so fucking sore..."
"Look at me,Dumbass..."
"Hey! Loser."
"Smartass." Jaelyn paused.

"Dumbass." She started laughing again. She didn't know why she was laughing so much after what had happened... It felt good, though... Like a release of emotion.

"That was a really bad comeback." Jaelyn nodded.
"I know." After a while, she stopped and rolled off Joey. She got up and went to her room.

She picked up her phone off the dresser, and the message icon popped up on the screen. She had three new voice mails.

The first two were from Tom...

"You fucking bitch. You fucking sent your fucking friends over to my fucking house. Where the fuck are you? If you think you'll get away from me, you're very fucking mistaken!"

Jaelyn deleted it before he had time to finish.

"Jaelyn, babys,wheres you at? Baby,I loves you. I didn't mean what I said. Baby-"

She deleted it. He was drunk.

The last message was from her mom.

"Jaelyn Marie Way! Where the fuck are you? First, you move in with your boyfriend, you fucking whore, and now nobody knows where you are. I bet you're out on some street corner fucking guys for cocaine! You fugly slut. Don't even think about-"

So, her mom was drunk too.

She cautiously called Tom's number and hung up when she got the answering machine. Memories and nightmares flooded in... She remembered him beating her with her own studded belt. She still had the welts. She remembered him coming into her room with a knife, carving his initials into her stomach. She remembered every shove, slap, punch, bruise, and scar.

She slid down the wall, crying. Huge, racking sobs tore through her. Before she knew it, she was screaming and frantically shaking.

She stared at a piece of broken glass. She longed to scrape the sharp edge along her arm. She longed to make herself bleed, bleed until it stopped hurting.

She picked up the glass..