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synopsis: billie takes an interest in you on the set of the lost cause mv
note: i have literally been imagining this since this mv came out
The set feels like something out of a dream, low haze clinging to the air, stage lights softened through gauzy drapes, everything bathed in smoky indigos and muted silver. It’s all silk and breath and motion, and the center of gravity is that bed, unmade, expansive, draped in layers like it was dressed for sin. The faint throb of the track loops in the background, low and pulsing like blood under skin, syncing perfectly with the damp heat rising beneath your pajamas.
You’re not one of them, not Billie’s regulars, not the close-knit circle of girls always in orbit. You’re just cast for the shoot. Slotted into a slinky set like the rest, laughing, grinding, lip-syncing. Playing a part. But even surrounded by bodies and lights and cameras, you feel her.
Billie dances next to you in a deep blue satin set, robe slipping off one shoulder. Her fingers skim the air near your hip, too close, too purposeful. The eye contact is worse. Heated. Lingering. She’s not subtle, and she’s not trying to be.
You tell yourself it’s work. Just choreography. Just angles. Just lighting. But it’s bullshit and you both know it.
She watches your mouth when you speak. When the camera rolls, she stays near, too near. At one point, she’s behind you on the bed, hands planted in the mattress at your sides, voice just behind your ear as she mouths her own lyrics. Her breath is warmer than the lights.
“You’re good at this,” Billie murmurs, low and close enough that your skin prickles.
You glance back, brow raised, amused. “The dancing?”
Her smirk widens, lazy and predatory. “That too.”
The camera keeps rolling. The girls giggle. Lights flash. Sweat glistens on collarbones and thighs. Her hand rests on your waist a second too long during a take, and your body remembers it even after it’s gone.
Then, “Cut.”
The lights don’t dim, but the spell breaks. Crew members scatter, girls start talking about drinks and rides and afterparties. One by one, they peel off, disappearing into the darkened hallway.
You move to stand, only for her hand to find your waist again, firm, grounding.
You glance down. “What are you…”
“Nuh uh,” she murmurs, voice thick, almost lazy. Her cheek’s pressed into the pillow behind you, her body stretched out across the bed like she owns it, and you.
“I rented this place for the night,” she adds, casual, like she’s mentioning the weather.
Your brow lifts, amused. “Did you?”
“Mmhm.” Her thumb dips just beneath the hem of your top, slow. “Didn’t think anyone’d leave so fast. Especially not you.”
Your breath catches before you smirk, slow and knowing. “You’re not subtle.”
Her eyes drag up your body. “Didn’t try to be.”
The silence now isn’t empty. It’s charged. The kind that hums in your chest and curls low in your belly. Just you, Billie, the bed, still warm from bodies and lights, and the echo of something inevitable.
Your fingers toy with the edge of the sheets. “So what now?”
Billie shifts onto one elbow, gaze locked on yours, voice husky. “Now,” she says, “you take that off.”
A beat. Then you laugh, slow, teasing. “And just give you a show?”
Her mouth brushes your jaw, not quite a kiss. “Only if you want me to film it.”
That hits you like a jolt, liquid heat shooting through your spine. She reaches for her phone, slow and deliberate, but her eyes stay on you.
“You okay with that?”
Your mouth’s already parted when you nod. Your voice would betray how badly you want this. She props her phone on the dresser, angles it toward the bed. The red light blinks. Recording. You climb onto her lap with aching deliberation. Her robe parts beneath you, camisole bunched at her waist, thighs bare and gleaming under the soft haze of stage light. Your own straps are loose now, the silk sliding off your shoulders, nipples visible through the sheer fabric with every breath. You settle your hips over hers, close enough to feel the heat between her legs but not close enough to relieve the tension.
Billie stares up at you, eyes gone heavy. You tilt your head, cocky. “You gonna do something, or just keep staring?”
Her hands trail up your thighs, warm and sure. “You’re on top, baby. You tell me.”
You move, not fast, not desperate, just a slow, testing grind. Your soaked panties catch against the satin of hers, friction sparking through your core.
Her breath stutters. You smile. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
You lean in, teeth brushing her neck. Her groan vibrates through your lips.
“Fuck, you’re hot.”
Your hips roll deeper now, her hands locking on your waist, encouraging every movement without stealing your control. Just the drag of wet silk on silk, heat building slow and excruciating.
Then her voice cuts through the haze, rough and sharp:
“Touch yourself.”
You blink, thrown for a second.
She’s watching you with open hunger, her lips parted, her chest rising quick beneath you. “Right here,” she says. “Like this. I wanna watch.”
One hand braces on her chest, the other slips down. Your fingers slide through soaked fabric, a low moan ripping from your throat as your touch finds home. Her eyes don’t leave yours.
You start slow, circling your clit through the wet cotton, hips still rolling. “Thought you wanted a show.”
Billie’s mouth curves into something wicked. “Keep talking and I’ll flip you over.”
You smirk. “Promises.”
She doesn’t hesitate, her hand shoots up, grabs your wrist, and brings your wet fingers to her mouth. Her lips part. Her tongue drags over your skin like she’s starving.
She sucks two fingers into her mouth, eyes fluttering closed, a low sound vibrating in her throat that goes straight to your core.
“Oh my…”
She’s on you before the words finish, kissing you hard, mouth hot and messy. Her grip tightens on your ass as she flips you onto your back, pressing you into the mattress with the full weight of her body. Her knee drives between your thighs, opening you with ease, settling between them like she’s meant to be there. Her hips grind into yours, no layers left now. Just skin, slick heat, and pressure that makes your breath catch and your eyes flutter.
You both moan into the kiss, helpless.
She kisses down your chest, tongue warm and wet as she drags it between your breasts, sucking a nipple into her mouth and groaning like she’s finally getting what she needed.
You gasp, arching into her. Your thighs tremble.
“Say it,” Billie murmurs, teeth grazing your skin. “Tell me what you want.”
“Your mouth,” you pant. “Please, Billie, fuck. Please.”
That’s all she needs. Her body slips lower, her hands pressing your thighs apart as she lowers between them. Her breath is hot against your pussy. Her tongue slides through your folds, slow and filthy, moaning as she tastes you.
You cry out, hands gripping the sheets. Her mouth works you with lazy precision, like she’s got all the time in the world to ruin you.
“You taste,” she pants between licks, “fuck, you taste so good.”
Your whole body’s tensing, hips grinding against her face. She holds your thighs wide, licks slow when you want fast, fast when you’re begging her to slow. It’s torment, perfect, unbearable torment. When she finally sucks hard around your clit, tongue flicking just right, your orgasm crashes through you like a wave tearing down a dam. You cry out, body jerking, legs locking around her shoulders. She groans into your pussy, devouring everything you give her, not stopping until you’re trembling uncontrollably, tears in your eyes.
Only then does she crawl back up your body, her face slick with you, her mouth sticky and smiling as she kisses you deep, lets you taste yourself on her tongue.
She pulls you into her lap, your limbs limp, your face buried in her neck. The camera is still rolling.
For a long, quiet stretch, you stay like that. Breathless. Tangled. Billie reaches for the phone, taps the screen. The red light dies.
She glances down at you, brushing damp hair from your cheek. “You okay?”
You nod, still dazed, still warm all over.
She kisses your temple. “Wanna shower?”
Your body hums, too soft, too spent. “Later,” you mumble.
Her arms wrap tighter around you. Fingers stroke lazy paths down your spine. Silence again. Just the sound of your breathing. The scent of sweat and sex, thick in the air.
Then Billie grins against your skin, low and smug. “Bet that footage’s better than the music video.”
You giggle, already slipping toward sleep, lulled by the rhythm of her breath and the silk of her body against yours.
The sheets are twisted. The lights are low. And you melt into her, fully, finally. Into the haze. Into the heat. Into Billie.
In 1861, the men who built the Confederacy were not coy about what it was for.
Mississippi's secession declaration says it in the second sentence:
"Our position is thoroughly identified with the institution of slavery, the greatest material interest of the world"
The Confederate Vice President, Alexander Stephens, told a Savannah crowd the new government's cornerstone rested "upon the great truth that the negro is not equal to the white man"
They were painfully explicit, saying exactly what the Confederacy was for.
Then they lost, and within a generation they revised history to replace the true cause with a lie.
They hadn't fought for slavery, said the lie. Their cause now had always been a noble defense of states' rights.
This is the Lost Cause narrative - a myth built to launder defeat into honor and shame into pride.
The Lost Cause fraud was built on three steps:
Step one: Hide the founding cause
The real cause was slavery, but they pretended it had been about "states' rights," an abstraction nobody had to be ashamed of.
Step two: Delete agency
The side that chose a war and lost it becomes the side exclusively suffered as victims. The Confederacy that fired on Fort Sumter becomes a gallant underdog crushed by Northern aggression. Confederate decisions are edited out of remembering while grievances are amplified.
Step three: Make it sacred
The story stopped being seen as history with facts and instead became a religion with saints (Lee as Christian knight), relics (monuments), and martyrs.
Once a claim is holy, any evidence against it can be dismissed without thinking as desecration. By making the facts unsayable, history is erased instead of being grappled with.
The biggest giveaway is self-revision. Stephens, who gave the Cornerstone Speech, spent his later years falsely claiming he'd been misquoted.
But the Confederacy and its descendants aren't the only ones who have used these three steps. Let's look at the Lost Cause of the Levant.
Step one: Hide the founding cause
In 1937 the Peel Commission proposed partition, but the Arab Higher Committee rejected it.
In 1947 the UN proposed it again as Resolution 181; the Jewish Agency accepted, the Arab League rejected and went to war.
The founding cause was the refusal of any Jewish sovereignty, which the Arab Higher Committee stated as plainly in 1947 as the Confederacy stated slavery as their cause in 1861.
In the popular telling, that maximalist rejection is gone, replaced by the revisionist framing of occupation, settler colonialism, and resistance.
Step two: Delete agency
The dominant telling of the Nakba frames it as a crime against a blameless, helpless native population that was set upon by racist European invaders out to seize their land.
The attack on Israel by the armies of five Arab states disappears, and with it the fact that they launched it to destroy the Jewish state in its first days, and lost.
This keeps happening down the timeline. The rejection at Camp David, the Second Intifada's campaign of suicide bombings, the rockets after Israel withdrew from Gaza in 2005, October 7....each is absurdly described as something done to Palestinians instead of choices made by Palestinians.
The displacement followed from a choice, the same way Sherman's march followed from secession.
They amplify the consequence, delete the decision, and make themselves exclusively powerless, blameless victims who can only have things done to them.
Step three: Make it sacred
"From the river to the sea" is a creed, not a policy position.
Once the Nakba becomes a sacred origin, pointing to 1937 or 1947 no longer reads as discussing historical facts. It reads as an attack on a holy truth - and any discussion is rejected as heresy.
Same mechanism, different liturgy.
It also has the same giveaway of self-revision.
In 2008, Ehud Olmert offered Mahmoud Abbas roughly 94 percent of the West Bank with land swaps, a corridor to Gaza, and a shared Jerusalem. Abbas refused it, and later admitted as much on Israeli television: "I rejected it out of hand".
An offer was made and a state was refused. The narrative now told pretends neither happened and that Israel hasn't repeatedly offered enormous concessions of land in exchange for peace. A state has been repeatedly offered. It was declined each time.
The parallel is sharpest at the foundation.
The Lost Cause of the Confederacy was built on slavery and said so out loud - it was the cornerstone of the whole edifice.
The Lost Cause of Palestine also has a cornerstone on which all else is built , just as openly stated.
No Jewish state between the river and the sea. The end of Jewish sovereignty by whatever means available.
This has meant the slaughter of Jews from 1937 to October 7.
The Confederate Lost Cause held for a century because the grief was sincere, myths are comforting, and nobody wants to believe their cause chose its own catastrophe over an objectively dehumanizing position against a specific ethnicity.
The Levant version survives for the same reason.
It's far easier to play the victims of a catastrophe than admit being the authors of it.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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I love drawing men in pretty pink dresses 🏃 Flame was an easy victim bc according to my Pinterest Flame is favored in pink😹
Again guys this is the little world in my head😭🙏 the way I think of it is like giving headcanons to a live action character, for example you're not headcanoning Robert downy Jr as gay because you headcanon iron man as gay ykwim?🤷
Story summary: Summary: You always wondered, how would your life turn out to be if you and Jungkook had a baby? So, when you finally conceive and decide to tell your husband that you are pregnant, you didn't expect him to drop this bomb on you. You never would've thought that the surprise you planned would end up in agonized tears because of the shock your husband brings you.
Chapter Summary: Jungkook’s POV of the night that tuined everything.
Warning: Infidelity. Angst. Crying and anxiety. Mature. MDNI. Guilt. Drinking. Aggressive wall punching. Sexual interrogations under alcohol influence.
Words: 2.8k
Author’s note: hi, my lovely readers! Here’s JK’s POV of THAT night, thank you for waiting for my updates. I have been up the whole night editing this and the other chapters, if you find any grammatical errors or spelling mistakes please know I will fix them tomorrow as soon as I wake up💕 I hope this short chapter doesn’t disappoint! Happy reading! ♥️💕
The club lights blared into my eyes, the music dizzying and thrumming through my chest. I hear my friends laugh and joke around but all I can focus was on the fact that I had this pain in my chest.
The pain and pressure that forced the worst case scenerio into my head; you not having the dream family you want. It had been 3 months that we started the gynaecologist’s consultation, a full year of us trying to have a baby, but why wasnt it happening?
It is my fault isnt it?
The memory of me scrolling through social media and seeing one of her likes on a post about some kid and a mother, a mother playing with her newborn, a husband cooking for her pregnant wife, a pregnant woman making some crotchet, a husband making the baby sleep, a happy family, you deserved it too, deserved the life that you always imagined with Jungkook.
But the guilt and the pain of not being enough made me wanna run away from this crowd, the crowd and the noise making it all too much, I wanted to be at home, back to you, hoping you’d forgive me for not being enough. For not being able to give you a baby.
A tear cascades down my cheek, which I quickly wipe off, the alcohol coming up round after round, it was a celebration but it was also a way to numb the pain in my chest. I know you would be mad for drinking so much but I just cant bear the pain of being a disappointment .
“Jungkook-ah, here-“ Jimin passes a whiskey glass to me and I look confused but then, I remember oh yes I had ordered a whiskey, too.
“You good?” Jimin asks eyeing me with a frown on his face when take the glass and swirl the liquid along with the ice and gulp it down like it was nothing, Jimin gives Yoongi a look and I can see Yoongi open his mouth to inquire but before that I gently shake my head, “I’m o-okay, I just, washroom…” I say and nod towards the hallway that led to the washroom and get up. Jimin gets up to go with me but I just pat his shoulder to sit back.
I didnt want to ruin his evening with my personal problems.
I walk slowly towards the washroom and walk inside, the door closing behind me with a thud. I breathe heavily, the music muffled and the thumping sound filtered through yhe door. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I see a sad and pathetic guy who cant even fulfill his duty as a husband.
A tear falls down and I blink away the rest of them, chin wobbling at the gailiure in my reflection, I bite my lip to hopefully not cru but I break into a full blown sobbing mess, gasping and shaking, I lean over the sink and hold my head in my hands as I cry over the marble.
Pathetic
Pathetic
Pathetic
The voice in my head gets louder as I loosen my tie hoping for it to help me breathe. I open the faucet to pour some water on the curve of my palms and splash it on my face, the splash causing one of my lenses to fall into the sink.
“Fuck…” I curse as my eyes sting a little, I try to find the lens but the alcohol in my head makes my focus blur. I try to breathe, hoping to calm down and find the lens or some sortof a solution. I pat my pocket, trying to find my phone, but remember its on the table where the guys were.
“Fuck!” I curse through gritted teeth, the evening getting worse by the second.
I open the washroom door and stumble across the dark corridor that led to the tables across the dance floor, I stumble into a lot of people, the buzz, the music, the lights and only one contact in my eyes didn’t help me navigate shit.
I accidentally stumble into a very familiar smell and it just made my stomach twist, it was your scent, the familiar scent I feel at home with, the scent that made me want to cry in your arms, I turn around to apologize but I cant spot who it was I stumbled into, just a black outfit and dark hair, another red dress, a guy with brown hair, blond guy, cowboy guy, another blue dressed girl, blue hair, green dress, it was a whole crowd and it was nearly impossible to find the person.
Dammit. I need my glasses.
I apologize to someone in general, hopefully to the one I bumped in and then turn to walk over to my table. My hands were shaking, Specs, my specs, I think, removing my other lens with shaking hands I throw it on the ground even before I find the specs, the whole environment making me fidgety.
“You want something kook?” Hobi hyung says and I nod mumbling a ‘specs’ and hyung gets up to find them for me, I plop down on the couch with my head resting back as Hobi hyung tries to find the specs in my bag.
“Here- are you okay? You look like you cried kook.” He says handing me my soecs and I lift my head to see every head turned towards me, I feel guilt rising up at their concerned faces.
How can I tell my hyungs I have been a total failiure? So i dont, I lie.
“Yes hyung, the water splashed in my eyes, that is why its red, dont worry.” I try to smile while putting on my specs and they frown which I try to avoid looking at, because I would definitely lose it if ai look at them especially Jin hyung, who looked at me like he has already smelled my bullshit. They try observe my face, but believe it nevertheless when I force myself to smile. Thank the darkness of the club that mu expression werent clear.
I sigh, relieved but then the scent I smelled returns back to the back of my memories and I shiver, fuck I need more alcohol. I get up to order some more shots and the hyungs laugh, thinking I was just happy or just having fun.
With no idea about my inner thunderstorm.
Gulp after gulp, shot after shot, neat whiskey to beer pints, the alcohol helped my inner turmoil, the hyungs would take me home anyway, I thought. It is irresponsible of me to drink so much, I know but I just need one day off my overthinking, one moment of weakness cant be a mistake, can it?
We decide to call it a night and Taehyung decides to take a smoke with Namjoon outside, so we all wait for them before paying the bill but I suddenly feel hot, the lack of water making me have cold sweat and feel hot at the same time, so I inform Jimin that I would be back in a second and Jimin nodded while scrolling on his phone.
I walk by Jin hyung somehow, considering my stumbling steps and my vision going round and round, he holds his hand out to balance me with a frown on his face but I ruffle his hair who in exchange swats my hand for that and I smile shaking my head.
Fixing my specs I walk towards the bathroom but pause when I smell the same scent.
This fucking scent.
My mind goes haywire, the guilt returns, the pain returns, the feeling of being a failure returns but three fold this time due to the influence, the DJ suddenly starts playing a mind numbing edm or some sortof a trancy music, I turn around to look for her, look for you, I try to find your hair, your scent, something again.
The need to see you and apologize for the failure of a husband I am, apologize for not being able to give you the dream family , apologize for not being able to give you the little kid you dreamed of, apologize for wasting the effort of your moodboard for the nursery, apologize for so many things, where were you-
I smell the scent again and whisper to myself, “baby?” I mumble looking around as my steps make me tangle into someone else and the scent covers me up, covers up my mind, covers up my senses.
I mumble your name but the music makes my head thrum along with the beats, you mumble something but I cant understand, I just nod, trying to apologize, eyes glossing at you finally being in my arms.
“Y/N…” i mumble, but you kiss me, shuttinh me up. All that goes in my head was, I hope you forgive me, I hope I could give your the family you wanted, I hope you let me make it better somwhow, and when you kiss me back I feel an urge to pull you towards me and hug you so you could never leave. I pull you closer and you say something, your voice mixing with the deafening music and I just agree, my senses all muffled, the world spinning as I kiss you, the tears falling down my cheeks as your hand travels towards my dick.
I pull back to breathe but you dont let me, and pull me back into the kiss. I grunt as I fall into you, the kiss turning aggressive.
I groan as your hand travels into my trousers, I rest my head on the wall behind me and the lights on the ceiling blur my vision, the lights causing my eyes to tear up, my breathing causing the specs to fog. Taking my hand you place it on your hip and kiss me again, my hand travels to the hem of your skirt and then slips inside your underwear. I want to make you feel good, better about our relationship.
Your tongue dives into my mouth and I feel your scent coating my senses more, the overstimulation of my senses makes me breathe harder. wait- why were you lips tasting so waxy, you didnt use lipsticks-
The spinning, the music, the thrumming in my head and heart both causing my mind to blank, and when I hear you moan as you come, I frown, chills forming on the nape of my neck, and not the good kind. You say something and it doesnt sound like you-
wait- what was going on?
“Y/N..?” I whisper slurred and hear a mumbled huh? that makes me I freeze, the hand in my trousers sped up, and before I could configure what was happening I came with a gasp.
I breathe heavily in the hallway as my senses finally gained slight clarity, and a flash of white light spins around in the club, it flashes on her face too and I gasp. I see that the scent in front of me was not you, and I feel my heart sink.
“What-“ I push her away and she stumbles back, almost falling over. I dont have time to feel bad for her almost falling because I finally understand whats going on, my head was still spinning and when I understand the face infront of me was is you, its enough to make my knees buckle in dread. My stomach twists with disgust and I feel my forehead getting clammy.
I wipe my face with my hand and the lights around us causes the glint of my wedding ring flash in my eye and hers at the same time, the room suddenly spinning because of a completely different feeling and nausea because of something really disgusting.
What the fuck did I just do?
Tears spring to my eyes and I see the person infront of me pause too, was that the manager, Mia?
I fall down on my knees on the floor with a thud and feel the alcohol rise up in my throat. I hear her leave the hallway in hurried steps, but honestly? I couldn’t care less.
The feeling of her touch remain on my skin and I feel my skin crawl, what did i do, what the fuck did i do!
The feeling of nausea intensifies and I instantly run towards the bathroom and open the door, but end up puking down on the floor instead of the pot. I heave as tears fell down, the floor spinning and the walls inching closer by the second, making me breathless and heave harder. Was it the dehydration or the disgust I felt for myself that I felt the floor and the walls spin in completely different directions?
I ruined it
Ruined everything
What the fuck did I do?
The question makes me clutch my hair in frustration and then cry into my palms as the floor spins more, I hear someone come behind me to help me get up but my mind was somewhere else, with you, at your feet, begging for something, apologising, crying, your face coming up in my head, kissing me goodbye before Busan.
“No no no-“ I choke but hear someone grung as they struggle to get me up.
“Jungkook get a grip of yourself!”
Namjoon hyung.
The next few minutes were a blur as I blacked out and then came back to see someone washing and wiping my face, blacking out again, then someone giving me water, blacking out again, then some of the hyung’s voices around me.
The only thing constant was the tears in my eyes and the agony in my chest.
I blacked out again but this time when I woke up, I saw that the room was dimly lit with the air con buzzing, the light glitering through the curtains signalled that it was almost morning so I checked the time and it was 6:45 in the morning. I tried to get up since my head spun but not that much, my eyelids were crusted due to the crying, marks of tears on my face that made my skin dry and when I tried to wipe the marks on my skin, the memories of the night came back like a flood breaking through a dam,
Me coming back from the washroom, lens? Specs? The scent, Jimin hyung asking if I was okay? More alcohol, The fucking scent again, I kissed you, then it was not you, her hand around me, my hand under her dress, both of us coming-
No no no fuck!
The moment the rewind ends, I fall down on my knees, breathing heavy, the clothes sticking to my skin, her touch sticking to my skin, I feel disgust at myself, my hands, my face, my lips, everything so I run towards the washroom for the shower but stumble into a vase, shattering it onto the floor.
The room spins aggressively so I hold the wall, “no..” i breathe out in guilt as your happy face keeps popping in my head, “no no” I walk towards the washroom but your face comes up again as you smelled the sunflowers I gifted you once “no!” Tears fall as I punched a wall.
“How could I do this?” I whisper as I keep punching and punching before the wall is stained with blood. I punch harder but step back as I breathe exhausted, stepping back I clutch my head, kneeling against the foot of the bed.
I sit down on the carpeted floor and rest my head against the mattress behind me. Breathing and gasping heavily, I pull mu knees closer and cry into my knees, I cant breathe, I cant think and before I know it, I feel my phone buzz in my front pocket.
When did I keep my phone in the pocket? My head spins as I take the phone out and tap on the screen.
The phone buzzed with Namjoon hyung’s message
Nemjoons🌵(07:13): kook, what is going on? Please tell us, we are all worried.
Jungkook(07:14): hyung
Jungkook(07:14): can you please
Jungkook(07:14): come here?
Jungkook(07:14): i need to talk
Nemjoons🌵(07:14): I figured, I’ll be there in five.
Jungkook(07:15): k.
I sniff, gasping for air as I almost throw the phone down on the floor, my expressions twisting in agony as I cry into my palms, I rub my eyes with my palms and sob as my body shuddered from dread. My throat scratchy from crying, dry from all the dehydration that the alcohol caused.
The phone buzzes again and the pain in my chest multiplies by a thousand when I see the pop up. The notification pulled me deeper into the mire of disgust I felt towards myself. The buzz of my phone pulling me deeper into the mud turning it into a suffocating quicksand, making it impossible to breathe.
My hand slowly picks up the phone and tap on the screen that turned off after the message popped, my breathe catches more when I read the message, my lips wobbling and the tears falling at the message.
My love♥️(07:17): Good morning! Can’t wait to see you tonight, miss you! ILY baby💕
