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I used to snap on her. But then she’d start with the crocodile tears, or the “I’m depressed” bullshit. Other times if I pushed too far, she’d start yelling and name-calling, then start with the “Motherfucker, get off my back before I stab you” craziness.
A few times she’s actually jumped up in my face with a knife and my daughter got caught up in the middle of our drama, trying to keep us from tearing each other up. And once, about three years ago, she called the police on me and lied telling them I tried to choke her. I told the police, “I’m not gonna lie. I’ve thought about choking her ass plenty of times. But I’ve never put my hands on her.” But they still arrested me after she was the one who put her hands on me.
Amaya was hysterical. And this bitch had the nerve to be smirking.
That did it for me.
I don’t want Amaya seeing that shit. And I damn sure don’t want her thinking, or feeling, like she has to play referee because her crazy-ass mother can’t keep her hands to herself. I’m not putting my daughter through that.
Hell no.
I said I’m here for Amaya. And that’s that.
So now I let the bitch do her. Sit on her ass all day, then lay up in bed late at night eating boxes of Entenmann’s cookies, bags of Doritos, then washing the shit down with wine most nights, vodka on other nights. Weed on the weekends.
Always that good shit.
Hell, I smoke, too, just to deal with the stress of living under the same roof with this crazy bitch. A blunt a night, that’s all I need to keep the edge off. Oh, and one before I step through the door and have to look in her face.
Hell yeah. I gotta be high to deal with her. Being around her is stressful as fuck. Her mouth. Man, listen. Her mouth is so fucking reckless. Sometimes I really wanna put my fist through it and knock out all her fucking teeth. That’s how bad it gets. Well, it had been. The last three weeks or so, things have been kinda calm. She’s not bitching as much. And she’s even asked me to sleep in the bed with her.
Not.
But I’ve given her some of this dick and fucked her to sleep, just to keep the peace. Still, wet pussy doesn’t mean shit if it’s attached to a fucked-up, crazy-ass bitch.
Now, she’s scrambling trying to figure out what she can do to make up for all the shit she’s put me through. Not. A. Goddamn. Thing.
I guess she sees I really don’t give a fuck. That she’s a nonfactor. I get up in the morning, do what I gotta do, drop my daughter off at school, then head to work.
Most nights I’m home from work by six, only because I need to make sure Amaya’s homework is done and that she isn’t being fed McDonald’s or some other fast-food bullshit. So I cook. Do the dishes. Get Amaya ready for bed. Then come into my man cave and lock myself in.
Now all of sudden it’s fucking with her that I make her ass invisible. But when I was sweating her, practically begging her to not give up on us, she gave me her ass to kiss. Now she wants to try to make things work. So she’s being nice.
Bitch, bounce.
It’s too fucking late. Her disrespect has done too much damage. Now I’ve emotionally checked out. All I am now is a physical body in this crib, and an unhappy participant in this shithole of a marriage.
Hold up.
I know what you’re thinking: Why am I still here? Why don’t I leave if I’m so miserable?
Stephanie’s even told me to get out. Then the one time I did attempt to leave, she blocked the door and started fighting me for leaving, accusing me of wanting to go off “to fuck some other bitch.”
I laughed in her face and that only pissed her off more. She spat in my face. And the only thing that stopped me from breaking her jaw was Amaya. She begged us to stop. And I did.
Stephanie, on the other hand, wanted to keep shit going. She always does. But now when she comes at me with that dumb shit, I give her a blank look. Fuck that. Me leave? Is she fucking kidding me? Why should I? Why doesn’t she go? The lease is in my name. And I’m the one paying all the bills around here. So I’m not going any-motherfucking-where.
Well, not until this lease is up.
Still, as far as I’m concerned, this is my shit. So I’m gonna ride this storm out until I can get rid of her, for good.
Hell, I’ve tried putting her out, twice. But she turned around and called the cops on me. Told them, crying, that I was putting her out and she had nowhere else to go, that I was throwing her and our daughter out on the streets. The cops stood there and looked at me like I was the biggest asshole. Then they had the audacity to tell me I couldn’t put her out because her name is on the lease, too. The worst thing I ever did, was putting her name on this lease.
Now I can’t get rid of her ass.
She’s even threatened to take my daughter from me, again. And she knows I’m not having that. The last time she ran off with my Amaya, she stayed gone for almost six months. That fucked me up.
I couldn’t eat, or sleep. Or even think straight.
