The call hung up. I swallowed and put the phone back. I feel something tug at me. I wanted to talk to him again, but I couldn't just call again. I sigh and walk over to the washer and pull out more quarters for the dyer. The washing machine beeped and I quickly moved the soggy clothes and sheets from the washer to the dryer.
Why do I want to talk to him so much? I don't need him. I need Gamzee. I shouldn't even be talking to Sollux. But... he makes me feel happy.
Happy. As if. I can't be happy, Gamzee doesn't want me to be happy. I don't deserve happiness. Gamzee made that perfectly clear. I start the dry cycle and sigh, looking to the door. Gamzee said I don't even deserve him, and that I should be happy that he's stayed with me as long as he has. My head starts to swirl. He's only with me because he killed his only love. You're Tavros' replacement. He thinks keeping me will fix things.
No! No no NO! I grip my hair in my hands. No!
He's just pitying me. He would feel too bad about leaving my with nothing. He's just with me because I make him feel powerful. He only stays for my tight ass.
NO NO NO NO NO!
When he gets tired of me he'll kill me, just like he did Tavros.
"NO!" I scream at the top of my lungs, my hands pulling my hair hard, I feel the ends snapping off from my scalp as I gripped harder. "It's not true. It's not true. It's not true. It's not true."
It is true. Just accept it.
"NO!"
I glance up as I hear a familiar beeping. The drying is done. I sigh and shiver, pulling myself together. Just don't think. Don't think at all.
I pull the dry clothes out and wrapped the back up in the now clean blanket and walk out from the laundry room. Gamzee should be coming home soon. That is, if he decided not to go to the bar again. Maybe he'll come home and hold me like he did years ago. Wrap me in his arms, drug me, then fuck me so sweetly. Oh I wish he would.
I open the motel room and walk into the familiar scene of pie tins, alcohol bottles, cigarette butts and other random things. Fucking mess everywhere. I trudge into the bedroom and drop the clothes and sheets onto the floor. I pull out the sheets and fix the bed, stuffing sides under the mattress and spreading them neatly across the whole bed. It's a shame it'll be ruined at some point.
I kick the clean clothes into a corner, away from any dirty pie tins or half full bottles that could break.
Such an odd things Gamzee's keen on kicking me for. Cleaning. I limped for three days after his punishment when I cleaned up the bedroom. He had twisted my leg so far it could have snapped. While it was twisted he stomped hard onto it. I was surprised and relieved it hadn't broke. I'd probably would have gotten beat again just for breaking something.
I walk to the living space and sit down on Gamzee's favorite chair. I curl up, wincing as a plastic bag stabs my side. I pull it out of the cushion and look at it. Cocaine. It doesn't look used though, so he's probably going to sell it.
I should keep it.
What?! No! No! No I shouldn't! Stop thinking. Stop thinking!
I stuff the bag back into the cushion and curl back up. He should be home soon.
(A.N: I know this was short! Really short! I'm sorry about that also! This part was supposed to be with chapter 7 but it made it too long, so I had to cut this part off. I hope none of your readers get too upset about that)
