I was broken.
Lost.
Alone.
But most of all, I had been betrayed.
It all starts on a cloudy Tuesday morning. I wake up in a cold sweat; I had dreamt that my one true lover Barack caressed my cheek. God, it's been so long since I felt his touch. I get up and stumble out of my apartment, desperate. I need him.
The cold wind brushes up against my face. It's nothing compared to the warm calloused hand of a hardworking man like Barack. I need something to replicate the way he makes me feel, like a warm meal. I sit down at my local diner and stare at the seat next to me. It's like he's there. I can hear his voice in my ears, telling me to ignore the haters.
When I snap out of it, I realize people are looking at me. Maybe it's because I'm staring at my chair. Or maybe it's because I am still in my pajamas that has Barack's face all over them.
"What would you like, sir?" the waitress asks. There is fear in her eyes.
"Just some tea," I say, sighing. From the corner of my eye I see a few cool kids looking at me.
"Loser," they sneer, and I ignore them.
I also notice two British lads who have black and brown hair. They look like they're on a date. I recognize them as Dan and Phil.
The tea comes a few minutes later. The waitress sets it down and walks away maybe a little too fast. I sip the tea - it's too hot, but I let it burn my tongue and down my throat. I need something to numb the pain of losing him. I close my eyes as I feel the warmth slipping down my esophagus to my stomach. It's like a blazing fire inside my body; it tastes bittersweet.
I leave without paying because I haven't had money in weeks. I would probably be arrested. Maybe Barack would bail me out of jail -- he has the power to do that, right?
Suddenly, I feel rough hands jostling me. "Hey!" I yell, my voice hoarse.
"Shut up, loser," someone says beside me. I look, and it's one of the cool kids. But I'm not afraid. I've felt this kind of fear before. But of course -- that was when I still had Barack. Do I still have the courage to fight back against the cool kids?
Maybe about three cool kids are here -- they shove me into a nearby alley. They shove me against the wall and their hands are blurry as they meet my face. My blood drips on the dirty floor.
"Where's your Barack now?" a cool kid smirks.
They leave me on the filthy alley pavement. My head pounds -- the next thing I know, it's dark.
I wake up panting again. Blackness all around me, except for the moon far above. I feel dry blood on my face that had dripped from my broken nose. Scrambling to get up, I lean against a wall. I can hear him now. Stay strong.
It's nighttime, so I have to get home, but I can't remember where I am. I walk unsteadily out of the alley towards the sidewalk. I walk and walk and walk until my legs feel numb. Where am I? Where is home? I hear him again: Go to where your heart leads you.
I turn east. I know this path by heart -- Barack's old house. My heart aches, remembering all the good times we had there. Now some ugly guy named Donald had moved in, kicking Barack out.
I still need to go.
I run towards the large white building. Its impressive pillars loom in front of me. I throw open the doors, letting out a sob. "Barack?" I call, even though I know he won't answer.
Instead, I hear someone else's voice. "You again."
I turn my head to see Donald. Ah, so that's why I haven't been here in awhile: I hate seeing his repulsive face.
"You're Barack's old friend, aren't you? You've loitered on the lawn and broken in quite a few times."
"More than a friend," I whisper.
"Get out!" Donald demands.
I glare at him. "I won't. You can't throw me out."
"Guards!" he yells.
I forgot about the security guards. Men and women dressed in all black rush towards me, ready to chuck me back on the lawn. I sigh, accepting my defeat…
When suddenly a big cloud of smoke appears.
Donald and I gasp at the same time. The security guards stumble back in confusion.
A tall figure becomes more and more visible as it walks closer. Could it be…?
"No one messes with my lover," Barack booms. The power of his voice knocks the security guards out.
"W-What are you doing here?" Donald says, in awe of Barack's sheer power.
Barack doesn't answer. He only walks towards me. "What happened?" he gasps. "You look hurt."
I shrug. "It was just some cool kids that followed me out of a diner."
His eyes harden with rage. "I'm sorry. I should have been there to protect you."
"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" Donald demands, rudely interrupting our moment.
Within the smoke, not yet dissipated, appears another figure. Barack smiles. I know who it is.
"No one messes with MY husband," Michelle proclaims, her voice dripping with importance.
Donald fears for his life, but is still determined to fight back.
Michelle uses her special move. "TURNIP FOR WHAT!" she yells, hurling a turnip at Donald's face. The pure force of the impact knocks Donald out cold.
"Thank you," I say to Barack and Michelle, my eyes watery with emotion. "You guys saved me. Again."
"Of course," said Michelle. "See you around." We hug, and she disappears with a poof of white smoke. I know I'll see her again soon.
I turn towards Barack. Oh, how I've missed him. I stroke his cheek, his skin feeling right under my fingertips. "It's been so long…"
He smiles softly at me. "I know it has, and I'm sorry. It's just that I'm so busy with work…"
I nod. I understand. It's hard work sometimes, I know.
Barack keeps smiling and leans towards me. My lips brush his…
Suddenly, a portal opens up and Ivanka steps out and she shoots me in the head and I fucking die.