Page 33 of Dark Notes

Me:Thank you. I appreciate it.

Mia:You better be taking care of my girl.

Me:Trying like hell.

Mia:She’s all good, Jagger. Kins has been dealt a fucked up hand, starting with her mother. She never has a chance to heal because the hits keep on coming.

Me:Mother? She has never spoken about her family.

Mia:Of course she hasn’t. It’s a story worse than most things you see on the news. If you want to know details, you’ll need to ask her.

Me:Alright. Thanks again. I’m deleting these messages because the trip is a surprise.

She sends the zipped lips emoji, and then I delete the messages. I’m getting ready to put her phone back when an alert pops up, for a text message from Erik. I can’t help myself, I click on it.

Erik:You disgusting whore. Where did you sleep last night? You’re nothing but a groupie to him. Traveling to every show, hanging on his every word, taking his dirty cock that has been inside every woman you see in the hallways. You’re a pathetic bitch. My life would’ve been better had your mother succeeded in killing you.

What the absolute fuck? Once again he’s telling her lies about herself, but it’s the last sentence that hurts the most. Did her mother try to kill her? My mind is reeling, and my chest hurts, as it squeezes hard. Then I think back to Mia’s message, sayingshe was all good but her trauma started with her mother, and she never got a chance to heal from it, because the hits keep on coming.

I delete all of her messages from him, and block his number, because any communication from him will not help her mental health. Some days, she’s barely hanging on by a thread as it is. I walk back to the bedroom, and sit on the edge of the bed while I watch her sleep. Do I want to wake her up and ask her about her mother? I really fucking do, but I know I’ll be met with silence. I have to do it at the right time. And in the right way.

She lays in the big bed, surrounded by pillows, and the white comforter pulled up to her neck, as she breathes shallow breaths. Her lashes flutter slightly as she sleeps. Fuck, I want to take a picture of her like this. She looks angelic. Peaceful. Something I rarely see when she’s awake. I will never fucking leave her, but if I said this was easy, it’d be a lie. It’s a fucked up form of torture, watching someone you love struggle so much. Hating themself more than most people could ever despise an enemy. All because of what other people did to her. Said to her. What makes a beautiful woman believe those lies?

She begins to stir, and her eyes pop open, and she covers her face.

“Oh my God, Jagger. Were you watching me?”

I chuckle. “Yes, baby, I was watching you. And I’ll do it again because you looked so beautiful, and I couldn’t stop myself.”

“It’s creepy.”

“How about waking up with my cock inside you? Would that be creepy?”

She moves her hands off her face and stares at me with shock.

“Yes, that would be creepy too.”

I laugh at her, knowing full well that will happen.

“Well, we’ll go with that next time, then. If I’m being charged with the crime, I may as well have fun before they throw me in jail.”

Running my hands under the covers, I grab her legs and pull her down the bed as she giggles. She’s always beautiful, but this is my favorite. When she at least appears happy. For a moment, the damaged girl disappears, and is replaced with a joyous one.

“What?” she asks, when she notices the way I’m looking at her.

“I love you.”

She giggles. “I love you too, creep.”

I break into the chorus ofCreepbyRadioheadand she stares at me with an open mouth, like she’s shocked.

Once I finish, her gaze changes to one of amazement. My beautiful girl is not hard on my ego.

“I’ll never get over how good you are, Jagger. How smooth your voice is, like melted caramel.”

Running my thumb over her lip, I say, “Thank you, baby. That means a lot to me coming from you.”

“Why?”

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