—Missed call Thursday 12:47 AM
—Missed call Friday 2:20 AM
I know it’s been a few weeks, but are we really back to the ignoring your man thing
you’re not my man
lmao
see, because if you WERE, you wouldn’t idk go radio silent for SIX WEEKS and then act like everything’s fine and normal
you’d tell me when you were busy and let me know when you could that you’re okay and not dead in a fucking ditch somewhere because you’re a stupid evil little man with an ego the size of Solbourne Tower and too many guns
a man I was in a healthy, fulfilling, consensual relationship with would make sure I knew that he was fine, even if he had a lot going on. He’d answer his phone at least ONCE in the SIX FUCKING WEEKS that had elapsed
MY MAN would stop for a second to think how I might worry about him and not want to cause me any distress, or at the very fucking least consider that I might assume he’d ghosted me and might move on with my life in the meantime
maybe I got a new fucking man while you were off doing gods know what. You ever consider that?
So what I’m hearing is that you really, really missed me
Fuck off, Felix
I missed you too. Now answer your man’s call
—Call began Friday 2:45 AM
—Call ended Friday 8:58 AM
Contact name changed to Boogeyman
Sleep well, pet
I still hate you
SEVEN
Dahlia thoughtshe was pretty good at handling crises. She’d grown up in a home that had one at least once a week, if not more.
House burned down? Happened twice. Not a big deal. It wasn’t like she had much to miss in the first place.
Mom’s in jail again? Good thing Dahlia could usually pack her own school lunches.
Cousin Ricky blew up his car? That was just another Wednesday.
She’d been forged in the fires of a chaotic, often dangerous household, and while it came with copious negative consequences, it also made her damn good in a crisis. She never questioned that she’d be able to make things work. Rent would be paid, one way or another. There would always be food in her fridge. She’d get her degree.
Maybe she’d be sleepless. Maybe she’d eat nothing but rice and peanut butter. Maybe it’d take her twice as long as everyone else to get her education.
But she’d do it, damn it.
In her short life, she’d never met an obstacle she couldn’t overcome — until the day the doctor told her she’d been turned into a vampire.
Dahlia thought she could be forgiven for having a minor mental and emotional collapse.
And that was before the doctors and nurses finally convinced her to do the tooth extraction. It’d taken hours and hours of denial-fueled negotiation for her to consent. She hadn’t wanted to believe it.
Sherefused.
