She was my girl [jerry cantrell x fem oc]

10: Down in a hole

July 7th, 1991
8:34pm

"Aww... This is gonna be such a bitch to clean up," Jerry brought his legs up to his body, while sitting on my kitchen counter, with cake mix all over him. He was licking his fingers while maliciously smiling at me.

Let's just say, we had a bit of fun while trying to make a cake. Fun, being me pelting him with eggs, and him pelting me with flour. And I guess we both got the cake mix over ourselves.

It was supposed to be a 'Sorry for skipping out on the second half of your wedding to have a smoke circle' kind of cake for Laura, but things didn't really go as planned.

Unfortunately, my kitchen paid the price.

"Hey you initiated the fight! You're helping me!" I reprimanded him and pulled out cleaning chemicals from underneath my sink.

He grinned and leapt from the counter, making his way over to me, "Woah! You have cleaning stuff? In this place?"

"You're hilarious," I groaned.

"You got a little something, It's ruining your pretty face," He licked his thumb and wiped something, probably egg, off my face.

Sweet... But gross.

"Don't distract me lover boy," I pinched his cheek and handed him a rag.

He pursed his lips and grabbed my hand, "It was worth a try, wasn't it?"

I playfully rolled my eyes and started spraying the counter. Lucky for me, my coworkers were massive grots, meaning I was a pretty decent cleaner. And plus, I was always out on toilet duty.

"Hey, thanks for letting me crash here tonight. I'll make it up to you," Jerry got down on his knees and started buffing out the dried up egg on the floor.

"Well, this is a nice start. There is no way I would be able to clean this up by myself. Not because It's too much, but because I lack motivation. You've seen the rest of my apartment, you would know," I wiped down my newly cleaned counter.

"Oh wait, do you have a washing machine? I need to clean my shirt. It has shit all over it and it would take a miracle to hand wash," He abruptly took off his shirt and tossed it to the floor.

Self control... Self control... This is Jerry...

"Oh yea. It's just around the corner," I pointed to my hallway, "Wait, could you put this in for me aswell?" I took off my over-shirt, just leaving me with a singlet on.

"I got i-" He stopped speaking and focused his attention to my arm. More specifically, my shoulder.

"Holy shit, what the hell is on your shoulder?" He walked over to me, to take a closer look at my scar.

I stepped back from him, "Nothing. Nothing you should be concerned about,"

I had completely tensed up, no one had ever seen my shoulder, and I wasn't interested in showing anyone. Or telling anyone about what happened for that matter.

Because I can't help but cry like a little bitch everytime I think about it.

His facial expression was sincere, just like that night at the club. "Is someone hurting you?" He approached me, once again.

I viciously shook my head, "No... It's old. Not recent. Now can you drop it? Please?"

"Annie. There's obviously something that's bothering you. You can tell me, It's good to get things off of your chest," Jerry grabbed my hand and smiled.