❛ i like shiny things, but i'd marry you with paper rings ❜
in which a famous actress finds herself seeking
comfort in a girl she met through social media.
gracie abrams x fem!oc
ONGOING
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chapter thirteen narrative
NARRATIVE⎯⎯⎯
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I stare down at the sticks, on the verge of tears.
Not pregnant.
Utter relief fills my body, so potent that I nearly faint. I scramble to hide the sticks in one of my sneakers.
Tyler's in another mood. I'm sitting in the closet, snotting and crying as he slams around the house. I’m naked and even more bruised than before. He didn’t hit me this time, just grabbed me roughly until I cried out in pain. Only then, did he squeeze harder. Guess he didn’t have to hit this time when I complied like a good little girl and let him defile my body.
He doesn’t like that I don’t love sex with him anymore. It bothers him, cuts him deep. He wants back what we had in the beginning- before we broke up. When he could be as rough as he pleased, and I’d fucking beg for it. I wouldn’t flinch away every time his hand got within an inch of my face. My face wouldn’t curl in disgust, and my eyes wouldn’t glaze over as I disassociate. Every time I show my displeasure, he shows his in violent and angry ways.
A lot has changed since my latest visit to Tyler's [second] house. It feels like that was the beginning of our downfall- well, our second downfall. Why, though? What possibly could have such a dramatic and negative effect?
Talking to Gracie.
Tyler was rough, and he was rude. But every time I went to pay his bills, he didn’t attack me until Gracie came around. What is it about her that he hates so much?
Is it because she’s better-looking? Is it because Gracie is a beautiful, majestic goddess while Tyler looks like your typical frat boy? No, Tyler is too vain for that. His looks have been validated his entire life. Women have fallen at his feet, begging for his attention since girls stopped thinking boys had cooties.
