“Yes,” he said.
There was a pause, then I became enraged again.
“If I see you again I’ll kick your ass and fuck your life up,” I yelled through the phone, then hung up.
After I hung up the phone I drove to Jamie’s mom’s house. I can’t remember how fast I was driving, but I was driving fast. When I finally reached her, I spit in her face.
“You’re a fucking whore,” I screamed at her.
Her mom’s boyfriend came out and put a hand on me. I pushed him into a car in the driveway, then he said he was going to call the police. I ignored him and turned to Jamie again.
“Don’t fucking call me, don’t talk to me,” I said to her. “You’re dead to me.”
And I drove off.
Jamie started crying and then entered a rough depression in the following days. A couple days later she showed up at the trailer and wouldn’t leave. I called my cousin and told him she was out there waiting for me. He felt my pain because he was there. He saw how secluded and isolated I was in the aftermath of our breakup. He had a hatred for her.
He dragged Jamie outside by her hair and threw her onto the front lawn.
“You just killed a pure-hearted guy, a guy who wouldve done anything for you,” my cousin shouted at her. “The next time I see you I’ll break your face.”
But I still missed her.
So we met up again, and agreed to get back together. This time, I made the rules.
“I’m going to fuck whoever I want and you’re not going to fuck anyone except me,” I demanded of her. “And you’re not going to ask me questions or do anything.”
You can’t rape a willing girl, but we proceeded to have very angry sex over the next phase of our relationship. I routinely fucked her pussy, ass, mouth, I slapped her I constantly, spanked her and pulled her hair. Now I do those things to girls because they’re kinky. But with Jamie it was true aggression. I treated her like a whore all the time, not just in the bedroom. Her mom bought a new house in Sunrise, Fla. and we were both living there. That’s when Jamie told me she was pregnant.
“We have a problem,” she suddenly turned and said to me as we were sitting around watching T.V. one day.
“It’s not enough that you fucking cheated on me?” I said. I always threw that in her face.
“I’m pregnant,” she said.
“How far,” I asked, still shocked.
I went from feeling angry to scared about the idea of being a father. Then I realized the baby couldn’t have been mine. Between Jamie leaving for West Virginia and our brief breakup when she returned, we hadn’t had sex in about two months before getting back together.
“I’ve already made up my mind,” she continued after a moment’s pause. “I’m getting rid of it. I want you to be the one to take me.”
Do you know what it’s like to take your fiancee to a clinic so she can have your best friend’s baby aborted? It’s rough, to say the least. I was there holding her hand while they were scraping it out, because, crudely enough, that’s what they do. I couldn’t treat her the same after that. It’s when I began to fall out of love with her. Once someone fucks me over, I know I need to start removing that person from the picture.