This is a voyage through the possibilities of who he is and who he can be in various universes. I welcome you to a world of each and every characteristic of DeVanté is existing as a separate entity in its own universe.
created: 23 February, 2018
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
A click and a clack, another click and another clack. The pattern repeats itself throughout the course of my reclining of the stairs up to my front door. As I settle within the plateau that lies before my front door, I take note of the small sticky note off of my door as confusion begins to take its course. My head tilts and I stare down at the familiar calligraphy. I don't know what he is doing now, Valentine's Day was three days ago.
Welcome home baby.
I smile, lifting the note from my front door. As my thumb glosses over his handwriting, my smile quickly fades. He isn't the cutesy note cards and flowers kind of guy. I scan my surroundings, anxiety rising while my eyes carefully review every inch of this earth that surrounds me. I reach for my keys with my alertness on high. One question can be seen written across my mind. What the hell did he do?
When all appears to be clear is when I go on and enter my home. My ears begin to bleed and my face fumes in anger as soon as I open the door. Loud, loud moans of what sounds to be a women without an ethnicity fuel the sound waves of my home. The oohyeah's and the fuck's combined with the consistent fapping of skin to skin contact leaves me absolutely bewildered and furious. A high-pitched yelp as if someone had got hit in their spot is my last straw. I drop my purse in front of the door without even bothering to remove my shoes or coat. Stomping to the kitchen, I snatch the biggest knife I own out of the knife holder and trot back to my bedroom.
I aggressively twist the doorknob ready to bust in there cut him and whatever white bitch he's fucking in my house. The door's failure to open accompanied by the knob's failure to twist, leaves me fuming.
The screams grow louder.
Feeling my anger rises to brand new accolades, I step out of my heels and remove my coat. With the knife being firmly gripped, I take two streps back until my back touches the wall. My foot rising the air, I use those two extra sets of squats to power the hard thud my foot creates when I kick it through the weakest spot of my door. The crack is enough for me to slip my hand through and unlock the door. I push my way through the door and the sight I behold brings me to feel a level of anger that I've never experienced before, ever in my twenty-five years of living.
It's fucking empty in here.
I throw the knife on my bed and snatch up the remote. "You play too fucking much!" I yell as if my boyfriend were here. Replacing the knife with my remote, I find a brand new sticky note as I turn off the porno that's blasting in my home. "Ugly ass bitches," I mumble, turning the volume down as I eject the vhs. My mumbles continue, "The fuck is this shit." I bring my attention to the note as my heart rate slowly begins to decline.
Gotcha. Go back to the kitchen.
Scoffing, I can't believe this shit. I take a deep breath and exhale all of the air that I gather. I throw down the remote and shove the note in my pocket. I walk over to grab the phone, I'm ready to call him and let him know how much I hate him and am ready to break up with him. Seven easy numbers are hit by my thumb before I place the phone against my ear and fall onto the bed.
