-Prisoner-
WARNING: HIGHLY HIGHLY EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT
PLEASE OH PLEASE: If you're a young adult (aka teen) and cannot handle adult situations or relationships, please don't read this fiction. It's a LOT more detailed than my usual stuff and VERY erotic (I hope)- so please read only if you are mature enough to handle it.
NOTE: Told by Eva, an unconventional girl. Note, while Eminem is crucial to her story, he is not the main character here, although there is a lot of sex (yum) and interaction. This story IS told from Eva's POV only and please be warned- she's a very... um... sexual being. So the smut here is much more intense due to adult themes. Please- I *love* this fic- but be warned. It'll be a journey you'll never forget!
PS: Eva is also part Hispanic and speaks Spanish. I wrote it so that you do not NEED to know Spanish- because Eva will think or resay what is being said- however- if you want to know- I think I'll be adding translations in here in a different size font.
-Prisoner-
1
"You realize this isn't funny, don't you?" I ask. I mean- he *has* to know it's not funny.
"Huh?" He asks, turning back around to face me.
"Get your ass back over here," I say angrily. I swear to god if he-
"I *told* you- I gotta go out quick."
"I *swear*, Em- you walk out that door and I'll-"
"Still be *exactly* where you are when I get back?" He finishes my sentence while running a finger up my thigh. "I know."
He presses a soft kiss to my lips and then he leaves.
Fuckin'- "OKAY, FINE!" I scream at the top of my lungs, "NEXT TIME *YOU'RE* GETTIN' TIED UP, MISTER!" I shriek.
Well fuck.
I yank on the ties but I'm so weak- I gotta start workin' out. Of course, I've said that every time this happened in the past seven months and never did a damn thing about it.
"IF YOU'RE STILL THERE, YOU ASSHOLE, I'M NEVER FUCKING YOU AGAIN!"
There. See what he does with that!!!
But in all honesty? I think he really did leave me like this.
Not like we could really go *again*- we've only spent the last six hours doing nothing but testing the limits of sexual pleasure. Ain't that a pretty way to put the fact that we fucked like bunnies on viagra?
But seriously? I *had* to get the fuck outta my house.
Mami has been almost impossible lately. Coulda been the fact that I had a couple friends over last weekend when her and Papi went out. Not just that- but the beer cans certainly didn't make her feel any better about her poor hija that's lost her way and found the way of el diablo. I swear- sometimes she's more born again than *raised* Catholic.
But I really think the thing that put her over the edge was the… 'compromising' position she found us in when she got home. In the living room no less. I thought they were gonna be *gone* longer.
Her *and* Papi yelled so loud- I swear the *house* shook.
They've been quiet the past week- *completely* silent. She hasn't even said 'buenos días' to me in the morning. *Nothing*. *Nada*.
I really think they've had their fill of me.
SHIT. I yank on the bandanas again but they've got *no* give. If only there was a dog or cat or something here- ya know- like Lassie- to chew through them.
How long has it been? Ten minutes?
"MARSHALL BRUCE MATHERS THE THIRD! YOU GET YOUR ASS *BACK* IN HERE *NOW*!" Shit… I gotta *go*.
AH! The door opens and he comes back in lookin' sexy-gorgeous as ever. "Stop all your fuckin' *screamin'*."
"You fuckin' LEFT me here! C'mon- I gotta get back- you *told* me you'd take me back today."
"I know- but I lied," he says with an evil-looking grin. He crawls up onto the bed and straddles my hips. I just glare at him. "Why you wanna go back anyway? Thought you said they were angry acha."
"They *are*- but…"
"Whad you do anyway?"
"Had a couple friends over last weekend when they went out."
"So? That's not bad."
"Um… they… weren't *exactly* friends."
"Oh." His face pales a bit and I see a flash of… jealousy? Anger?
But it's not like we've ever said we're… exclusive. Not like we're a fuckin' couple… we just fuck. It's not like we've ever been seen in public together or anything either. He makes sure of that.
"How many others?" He asks quietly staring at me.
"Huh?" I ask stupidly. I know what he's asking.
"How many others are there? Be*sides* me?"
"Em-"
"Tell me."
Honestly? Not as many as there *used* to be! But… this summer's been tough- he's been away and workin' a lot and… fucking me isn't his only job. And we're not in a relationship. We're friends.
"A few," I say and he actually looks… *hurt*. "I really gotta get back though and it's gonna take an hour to drive so… can you *please* untie me?"
"Not yet," he says. "I… gochu a lil' sumin' sumin'."
"What? Why?"
"C'mon- you think I'm *not* gonna gechu a birthday present?"
"How'd you know it was-"
"Why do you think you had to come *this* weekend?" He asks with a grin. "*But*… it comes with a condition."
"Okay, what? And if it's kinky, don't tell me 'til next time."
"No- it's…" his hand reaches into his pocket and pulls something out, holds it in his palm before showing me. "Not what you might *think* it is- I mean… what it traditionally means, because… but-" He opens his palm and-
"Em…" He holds it up so I can see it. "It's… gorgeous. But-"
"It's not an engagement ring or anything- relax… I just… wanted to give you something nice for your birthday."
It's beautiful- silver with a small red stone in the center with two white ones on either side of it. "Is it-"
"Real? Yeah." Shit- then it's… what? A ruby and two small diamonds? Fuck.
"I can't accept that."
"I *want* you to have it. I saw it and thought of you."
"It's too much- I can't."
"*Please*?"
I can't take his gifts. I haven't. And he tried. He tried to give me this gorgeous leather coat last February because it was so fuckin' *cold* when I came here- but I wouldn't take it. He don't need to buy me things to-
"Listen to me, Missy," he says, glaring at me. "It's not *nice* to refuse birthday presents. You're gonna take it and you're gonna wear it and you're gonna be happy about it because you *know* you love it."
"I do, but- what's the condition?" I ask, remembering what he said.
"The condition, my dear," he says, leaning over me and resting the weight of his body on my hips. His hands cup my breasts tightly as he says, "is that *you* are *only* mine."
Shit.
"That means," he continues as he kisses my collarbone. "You *only* fuck *me*. I don't care if you have to come here every weekend. Or if I have to keep you chained to my bed. No guys," he says and then looks up at me and adds, "and no girls," he winks. If only he knew… "Just *me*."
"And what about *you*?" I ask. "Huh? You only gonna fuck *me*?"
"Yup," he answers. "Can you do that?"
"I can try," I groan as he laves my nipple.
"No, no- no *trying*. From now on," he says, looking directly into my eyes, "*you* fuck *only* me. Got it?" I nod slowly. "Say it," he demands. "I wanna hear you say it- you're *mine* to fuck. And *only* mine."
"Em…"
"*Say* it," he says, forcefully thrusting his hips against mine.
"Please- don't-" but I can't think when I hear him undo his zipper and I feel him rubbing himself against me and I can't help it. Six hours of it and I still want more.
He drives himself through me and pins me down with his cock deep inside me. "*SAY* it," he growls. "That I'm the only one."
I try to arch my back, raise my hips… anything to get some relief or sensation from it- but all I feel is him, hard and insistent, pinning me to the bed.
Fuck. He pulls out and drives into me again, harder than before. "No fair," I gasp. "Using sex to-" and he does it *again*. FUCK. I can feel him throbbing inside me and- "C'mon- please…" I beg. "Just-"
"Fuck you?" He asks, stilling himself. "Why should I?" He asks. "Huh?"
He attacks my mouth and possesses it and I *love* when he's like this. He pulls away and leaves my lips bruised and swollen. "Why *should* I?"
"Because I'm yours," I break. Like I wasn't gonna when he does it like this.
"Say it," he pleads with me.
"Only you," I whimper as he drives into me again. "I fuck only you."
"That's right," he says, punctuating his words with another deep thrust. "You *know* you love how I fuck you," he whispers before pumping his hips furiously. I *love* when he's this possessive and vicious. I don't think anyone would think he's like this- but he is. He's biting my neck gently and pounding into me and it occurs to me that he doesn't have a condom on but it just makes it better. I *love* when I feel him exploding into me. He's the only one I *let* do that.
"You're *mine*," he growls one last time before throwing himself into me and I feel him shiver a bit before his orgasm hits and he's spilling inside of me and just that intimacy makes *me* come. Strange, I know- but… I do.
He unties my wrists and takes my hand. He kisses my palm before sliding the ring on my finger.
I look at it and it does look good. "I *mean* it," he says. "I don't want you fucking anyone else. If you did-"
"I know," I say, placing a soft kiss on his lips. I *know* what it would do to him. It would really hurt him. And it's not like we're in love or anything- but… we're… it's weird. I guess we're exclusive now- but I wouldn't really call him my boyfriend… "I won't," I say. "I promise."
I'll just need to… buy a few… *toys* for when he's not around.
2
I can't stop lookin' at it.
For the past hour, I've done nothing but look at it.
"You really like it?" He asks and I glance over him quickly and nod.
"Yeah, I really do." I look out the window and as tempted as I am to direct him *away* from my house, I say, "Turn left up there," I point toward the sign for our development.
"Rosa Estates?" He asks with a bit of a tone in his voice.
I roll my eyes. "Yeah- more like… 'I'm rich so look at me' Estates. But- god, I don't wanna go back. I cannot *wait* until I can go back to school. How sick is *that*?"
And I am *so* not looking forward to *this* joyous family reunion! I did *not* mean to be gone quiet so- well- let's be honest. Yeah I did. But I was hoping to be home earlier this morning, but instead chose to fuck my… boyfriend, I guess? Lover? Partner? I have no idea… whatever. I chose to fuck my Eminem.
"Take a right," say, and he turns into my cul-de-sac. "It's that white one."
"WOW! You… grew *up* here?"
"Since I was five, yeah." He throws the car into park and I glance back down at my ring for a second. "Thanks for the ride," I say and lean over to kiss him goodbye. His hand slips around my head to the back of my neck and he pulls me closer to him, across the seat of the SUV. His other arm slips around my waist and rests on the small of my back so he can pull my hips toward him. Shit… I pull away and catch my breath. "Stop," I say. "I gotta go. But- gimme a call-"
He kisses me again, softly, and lets me go. "Ya know- you *can* call *me*," he says. "I *gave* you my number."
And that's true. I have *never* call *him*. But… I don't wanna interrupt his life- or call when Hailie's there. I have yet to meet her.
"I never know when's a good time," I shrug.
"Just *call*- leave me a voicemail if you don't get through. Okay?" He asks and kisses me again softly.
I nod. "When'll you be back?" I ask, not sure if I'll see him again before he leaves. He's going to California for a couple weeks or so.
"I'm not sure. I'll give ya a call and let you know."
He gets sort of quiet and I *know* what he's thinking. "Hey?" I say, taking his chin and turning him toward me. "I promised, didn't I?"
"Yeah," he shrugged. "But-" he pauses for a second and then says, "Just *tell* me if- I mean… be *honest*. Don't lie."
"Alright." And I'd be angry at him for thinkin' I'd go out and fuck everyone after telling him I wouldn't, but can I really blame him? We've been… spending time for seven months now and I've made no secret of the fact that I've been fucking other people. Not as much as before- but… still. "I gotta go in," I say unenthusiastically.
"Bye," he waves as I hop out of the car with my bag of clothes.
I wave as he drives off and I look at my ring again as I walk up to my house. I unlock the door and "EVA MARIA MENDOZA LOPEZ! ¿Adónde fuiste? Estábamos tan preocupados." ("Where were you? We were worried.")
Wow... Mami's reignin' it in and *not* screaming too much. She hugs me. I mean… she actually *hugs* me. "I was at a friend's house, Mami," I answer her.
"Eva…" oh no- there it is. She's gonna get mad now. "¿Con un amigo? ¿Qué amigo? ¿Un hombre? ¿Un chico?" ("With a friend? What friend? A man? A boy?")
"Yes, Mami- a guy. A friend… whatever." I try to brush past her, but she grabs my arm and *then* she sees the ring.
"¿Qué es esto, Eva? ¿Te compró un regalo? ¿Para el sexo?" ("What is this, Eva? Did he buy it for you? For sex?")
"Mami, it was a birthday present. Un regalo para mi cumpleaños, no te importa." ("A gift for my birthday, it doesn't matter to you.")
"¡SÍ! ¡A MÍ, ME IMPORTA! What will your papi think? Su hija, recibiendo regalos para el sexo… la hija *mía*- ¡siendo pagado para tener el sexo!" ("YES! IT MATTERS TO ME! What will your papi think? His daughter, receiving gifts for sex! *MY* daughter- being paid to have sex!")
"It wasn't a gift for sex, Mami! ¡Es un regalo para mi cumpleaños! A *birthday* present and it's none of your business. It's *my* business."
"Like Hell it isn't my business, Chiquita."
"I'M NOT A LITTLE GIRL, *MOM*!" I scream, yanking my arm away from her. "So don't *call* me that! I can make my own decisions."
"Mija, estoy preocupada para ti… tener el sexo para- cosas, dinero…" ("Honey, I'm worried about you- to have sex for... things- money...")
"¡NO SOY UNA PUTA! GOD, I'M NOT A FUCKING *WHORE*!" I scream and I don't think I've *ever* said those words in front of my mother. "I do *not* have sex for money, Mom. I do it because I *like* it!" I spit. "And I'm *sorry* if you can't under*stand* that, but don't blame *me* because Dad doesn't satisfy you."
And *then* she slaps me.
And she *never* hits me. My dad has, on occasion, swatted my ass, but she *never* raised a hand to me. "How *dare* you?! ¡No tienes el derecho! No right at all." I'm so stunned, I don't even move and she grabs my wrist and yanks the ring off my finger.
"¡MAMI! ¡NOOO! ¡ES EL MIO!" ("NO! IT'S MINE!")"
I try to grab it back from her but she steps back and holds it up to the light before saying, "No daughter of *mine* is going to *whore* herself to some man."
"Well that's *good*, isn't it?" I say with such pure venom in my voice, it scares me. "Because I'm *not* your fuckin' *daughter*. Am I?" I say, before snatching my ring back, as she's stunned and can't say anything to me.
I can't stay in this house.
I grab my purse and walk out the door, slamming it behind me. Of course, now what the fuck do I do? However, I guess, since I really could care less if I'm in trouble of if she hates me… I might as well hop in her car and leave. So that's what I do.
I pull out of the driveway just as she comes running out of the house, screaming at me to stop.
I don't care.
I just speed away.
3
What the fuck do I do *now*?
I do the only think I can think of. I pull my cell phone out and dial his number.
"Yo," he answers.
"Hi," I say. "It's… me."
"What up? I just left you."
"I know. I… sorta had it out with my mom and… I don't know what to do, so…"
"Want me to come get you?"
"Wanna go somewhere for dinner?" I ask. "Taco Bell or somethin'?"
"Sure."
I tell him how to get there from where he is in town and ten minutes later, I jump out of her car and slam into his chest and am *so* happy those arms are exclusively mine now.
He hugs me tightly and I sigh into his chest. "C'mon," he says, pulling me toward the door. He's got a hoody on as well as a baseball cap.
"You go get a table and I'll get some food."
"Need money?"
"Nah- I got it." I stand in line as he goes to the very back of the place and sits with his back to the rest of the place. I know- this isn't the *best* thing for him to do. I just hope he doesn't get recognized.
I get our food and then join him at the table. "Wanna talk about it?"
"It was *bad*. The *worst*…" I rub my temples before opening my chalupa. "I mean… we argue- but… she saw the ring and took it off me and said how horrible it was to have sex for money. I told her I was sorry that she couldn't grasp the concept of *liking* sex and she slapped me and said no daughter of hers would whore herself. And then I said it was a good thing I'm not her daughter. And then I left- took the car and left."
"Oh, Baby," he said, holding my hand. "I'm sorry…"
"I just… don't know what I'm gonna do. It's like… nothing I do is ever gonna be good enough for her. She's always gonna think of me as… a whore. My own *mother*- *NO*- *not* my own mother. She's *not* my mother- not really."
I just don't know what the hell I'm gonna *do*.
"You could… stay at *my* house for a while- while I'm gone. I wouldn't *mind* if you stayed at the house. Least you'd be out for a couple weeks anyway…"
"I should just move out… find an apartment close to the campus and just *live* there. Not like I couldn't take out loans or get a job or somethin'. I'll just… wash my hands of 'em, once and for all."
"Is that really what you want?"
"I-" don't really answer that question because I'm interrupted by the police car that pulls into the parking lot with their lights and siren going. "What the hell?" Two police jump out of the car. "Ohmygod- wouldn't it be so cool if we were watchin' a drug bust go down?" I ask him as the police come into the building.
"Eva Mendoza?" One of them says loudly. What? He scans the people in the place and his eyes land on me. Both of them walk toward me. "Eva Mendoza?"
"What?"
"Are you Eva Mendoza?"
"Yeah- what's the problem?"
"You're under arrest."
"FOR WHAT?!" I demand. "I didn't do nothin'!" He takes my wrist and turns me around and starts to cuff me.
"Yo, lay your hands off her, she didn't do nuthin'," Em says to the officer.
"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you…"
It's like… a dream. Sounds sorta fade out as I feel the cuffs around my wrists. I don't like it. It's not like our games, when I'm tied to the bed. It's uncomfortable and hurts.
People are crowding around and I just stare at Em. He's got his back to most of the people. God- I'm implore him to just leave. He doesn't need *this* PR nightmare.
"Do you understand these rights as I've read them to you?"
"What are the charges?" He asks again.
"Grand theft auto. Do you understand these rights as-"
"IT'S HER MOTHER'S CAR! She didn't *steal* it! She had a key!"
"The car was reported stolen," the officer says and then repeats, "Do you understand these rights as I've read them to you?"
I nod and then look at Marshall. "Just- go… I'll be fine. Don't get in the middle of this. *Please*." And then I avert my eyes from him and everyone else as they lead me out to the car.
The whole process is surreal. The drive down to the station is quiet and long. I can't believe my own *mother* would have me arrested! Stolen car my ass… I gotta get out of that house.
That's all I can think about right now. If I think too much- I remember the cuffs and how they sting and hurt and how much I want them to be gone and everything gone and start over this morning, in his arms, with him pressed against me, waiting to enter me.
So I don't think about any of that because I don't cry and I think if I think about that stuff too much, I just might. All I think is: I gotta get out of that house. I gotta get out of that house.
Fingerprinting, picture taking… and then they've got me in lock up.
At least I'm in a cell alone.
I gotta get out of that house.
Fuck- I guess I got my wish! And I think, upon more thought, that I'd rather be *here* than at home. I'm more of a prisoner at home than I am here. Here- you're just another person in a cell. You're not white, Latin or half and half. You're not… anything. I like that.
An hour or so after I'm put in my cage, a sheriff comes to get me. "You have a visitor."
I follow him and he leads me to a small room with table and chairs and at least I don't have the cuffs anymore. But… it's my mother."
"¡Mija!" She says- like she's *worried*… like she didn't *put* me here. "¿Estás bien?"
"Fine and dandy," I say coldly. "You?" I don't sit down and she makes no move to stand.
"Eva, no seas grosera," she warns me. Don't be rude. Is not having your child *arrested* the epitome of *rude*?
"What do you want?" I snap. "And talk to me in English- not like you *can't*." I mean- she's a fuckin' *English* teacher for Christ sake.
"Eva María," she says, looking angrier with me than she was earlier. "¿Qué quieres decirme?" ("What do you want to tell me?")
"I have *nothing* to say to you if you don't speak *ENGLISH*."
"What's the matter with you, Hija? Huh? What's gotten into you?"
Eminem.
Bad joke. Wrong time.
But funny. And true.
"I'm not your 'hija'," I say. "You bought me from some pregnant teenager because you couldn't have a baby of your *own*."
*That* hurt her. I can see how much it hurt her in her eyes. I could've dug worse though- I *wanted* to say 'because you killed your own babies' but I didn't. But I do know she lost five children before they decided to give up and adopt. Still- I don't think she appreciated my gesture of kindness.
"Bien. If you feel that strongly about it, *stay* here." She looks at me, pauses, as if I'm gonna break down and apologize. "You don't want to be my child, then I'll treat you like a stranger." She's threatening to leave me here and that's fine with me. She's threatening under the assumption that I'd rather be home instead of here.
Well, she's mistaken.
I turn toward the guard and say, "take me back to my cell."
"¡EVA!" She practically sobs as I hear the door close.
And when I get back to my cell and lay down on the cot, I wipe a single tear from my cheek.
4
An hour later, the door opens again. I don't move though. I don't even look.
"Ms. Mendoza? You're entitled to a phone call."
Oh yeah- I remember that now. "What time is it?" I ask him on my way out.
"5:30. Dinner is in a half-hour."
Ohboy.
He leads me to the phone and I don't have money so I call 1-800-CALL-ATT. I give them Em's number and hope he answers. Who the fuck *else* am I gonna call?
"EVA! What's goin' on? Where are you?" He asks, after accepting the call.
"The slammer," I answer.
"Do you- I mean… you asked me to stay away- or… I thought you did- do you… want me to get a lawyer for you?"
"No. I'll be fine. Just *her* making a *point*. But she's not gonna win this one."
"Do you need bail or something?"
"Don't worry about me. Look- I only get four minutes, so… just… tell me something good."
"Like what?"
"Like what you're doin' tonight or tomorrow… I don't care."
"Hailie's comin' home tomorrow morning and I think I'ma take her to 54 wit' me to record a bit. And we may jump on the trampoline… maybe watch a movie with pizza tomorrow night."
"Your child eats so nutritiously when she's with you…" I tease.
"You sure you don't need a lawyer?"
"*Please*- for *your* sake- don't get involved," I say. God.. he *so* does not need *me* in his image.
"If you *need* me, I'll-"
"I don't," I answer, although I'm not too sure. But really- he don't have any responsibility toward me other than when I'm tied to his bed… not really.
I look down at my hand and I know I only got the ring this morning, but I feel… bare without it.
"If you're sure… you gonna be there all night?"
"Dunno. Probably… it doesn't matter. Being *here* is better than home, so…"
"Try and get some rest?" He says. "And… if you need-"
"I'll be fine. You just take care of that little girl of yours."
"Aiight," he says. "Be thinkin' 'boucha," he says.
"Yeah, me too," I respond, before hanging the phone up and smiling a bit.
A while later, they bring the dinner trays but I just leave it on the floor. I'm not hungry.
I just curl up on the cot and close my eyes.
The next thing I know- I hear the doors sliding open again. "Get up," a voice says. But I don't move. "GET UP!" It says louder. "C'mon- you're being released."
"Huh?" I ask, wiping my eyes and sitting up. "What time is it?"
"Eleven thirty. Now let's go."
I stand up and follow him back to the main room where I'm given my jewelry and purse back. And it's not like I haven't noticed both my parents standing at the door, waiting for me. HA! I WON! Although, what, I'm not sure exactly, but I *know* I made my point. Which was that I'd rather be here and that I'm not gonna do what *they* want. I think. I don't know- I'm too hungry and tired to know the difference."
I sign a couple papers and they explain that the charges have been dropped and I'm free to go.
And as much as I'd *love* to call a cab and go somewhere other than *home*- I'm really too tired to fight them right now, so I just follow them out to the car that I stole.
I sit in the back without protest or words at all and then pull my cell phone out and call him at his home. It's late and I really hope I'm not- "'Lo?"
"Hi, Baby, it's me," I say.
"Hey- are you-"
"I'm out. On my way home I guess, but-"
"They drop the charges?"
"Yeah- I *told* you I'd be fine." I can feel my parent's eyes on me in the rearview mirror. "Didn't I, Baby," I coo a bit- whoring it up a bit for them.
"You're instigating them," he warns.
"Well, I don't know, what are *you* wearing?" I ask him seductively.
"Stop it, Eva," he says.
"Oh really? Well… I'll call you later, Baby, maybe we can try that out…"
"Try what out?" He asks. "Huh? You're *terrible*."
"And you *know* you love it, Em."
"I do. I'll talk to you tomorrow some time?"
"Yeah, night, Baby."
"Night."
I hear my mother sniffle a little bit but other than her stifled sobs, the ride home is silent. I sense a tension between *them* too. Wonder if he was mad that she had me arrested… ohwell. I don't fuckin' care. As of tomorrow, I'm gone. I'll stay in a motel for a few days- I can charge it.
He pulls into the garage and I get out and quickly brush past them and go directly to my room. I close the door and lock it before falling onto my bed and closing my eyes.
Morning comes too soon in my opinion. I wipe my eyes and glance at the clock. Ten in the morning. Whatever. I shower and brush my teeth and dress before grabbing a couple of my school suitcases and packing some stuff. I wonder if they went to work- it would certainly make leaving earlier.
I carry the two suitcases with me into the kitchen. Dammit. They're home- took the day off to be here. Fun.
They're quiet as I pour myself a bowl of cereal and glass of orange juice.
"¿Adónde vas?" She asks me. ("Where are you going?")
"A la escuela," I answer. ("To school.")"
"¿La escuela?" My father asks. "No empieza por tres semanas." ("School? It doesn't start for three weeks.")"
"No voy a regresar," I announce. I'm not coming back. ("I'm not coming back.")
They both look at me immediately. "Eva…" she starts.
"It's not a discussion. It's my decision y he decidido." I've decided. ("I've decided.")
"Eva, your mother and I love you," he says. In English. "We don't want you to leave like this. *Please*, you're our daughter and we love you. We'll… work it out. Somehow."
I'm silent as I eat my cereal and when I'm done, I put the spoon in the bowl and stare at the pattern for a few seconds before saying, "I wanna find my *real* parents."
And as soon as it's out of my mouth- I regret it.
5
She gasps and clutches her mouth with her hand.
Ohgod- the *pain* in her eyes in unbearable. I turn away. I can't look at her.
"Eva," Papi finally says. "¿Por qué? ¿Para esto? Estos problemas son-" ("Why? Because of this? These problems are-")
"It's not that, Papi," I say. I can't back out and I'm not so sure I *want* to now. I've always been… curious about them. But… maybe it's time to let Mr. and Mrs. Mendoza rest. "It's… a lot of stuff-"
"Eva, por favor, no te vayas," she whispers softly. "I'm sorry, Mija. Lo siento mucho. Por favor..."("Eva, please, don't leave. I'm really sorry.")
"C'mon, let's be honest," I say as a tear falls down my cheek. "I'm just… the only thing I've ever been is a problem. First the white kid and now the whore."
She really starts crying and he just looks stunned. "Eva… we *love* you- you're our little girl. You *have* been since the first day we held you. You'll *always* be our daughter."
"No. I'm the consolation prize."
"NO!" She says. He looks absolutely *horrified*. "Is that lo que piensas? ¿De verdad?"
"Eva, when have we *ever* treated you like that?" He asks.
"When have you-" ohmygod. I can't… "When have you *not*?!" I challenge as I stand up and kick the chair out from under me. "My own fucking *mother* had me *arrested*! I didn't steal that fuckin' car!"
"Eva, please, your language…" he says.
"NO! I'm twenty years old and my own *parents* had me *ARRESTED* on my *birthday*!" I slam my bowl into the sink. "I mean… would you have *ever* done that to your *real* children?"
"Eva, you're out of control," my mother says. "You left for a night, with no note and come back the next morning… kissing some… *man*- wearing his jewelry… you need *help*."
"What I *need* is my parents. My *real* parents." God- the more I say it, the more I believe it's true. The more I believe that if I find them, I'll finally have a family and Mami and Papi can have their life back. Everything'll be perfect.
"We *are* your real parents," she says. "We've *always* treated you like our daughter."
"Just the fact that you have to *say* it like that… 'treated you like'- proves my point."
"You *are* our daughter, Eva. Eres nuestra hija, de verdad, por todo el tiempo, hasta que muramos." ("You're our daughter, truly, forever until we die.")
"Well... I didn't *feel* it," I say. And that hurts them more. Tell me I'm their real daughter forever until they die and I say *that* to 'em. I hate hurting them like this. It's not like it's been *terrible*. I was really happy when I was younger- before it mattered that I was different. Before I became a devil child… "I'm… grateful," I say. "Por todo… pero, tengo que buscar las respuestas… *mis* respuestas- de mi vida." ("For everything... but, I have to look for answers. *My* answers- from my life.")"
"The answers you seek, Eva... you're not going to find them out there," Papi says, catching my forearm so he can look at me.
"Ni con él," she adds. Not with *him* either.
"God- is that all you can do, Mami?" I yank my arm away from him and turn to face her. "For the past seven *years* all I've heard from you is how I'm damned to Hell- is that *really* want you want for your 'daughter'? To damn her to Hell? And then sit there and tell me you've 'always treated me like a daughter'? That's BULLSHIT. You *never* treated me like anything but an inconvenience- poor little gringa whose parents don't want her…"
"¡EVA!" She says and stands up. "IT WAS *NEVER* ABOUT THAT! ¡NUNCA!"
"WASN'T IT?" I shout. "Do you have ANY idea what it was LIKE for me? Did you ever even NOTICE how hard it was? Having to *explain* why I'm whiter than paper and call myself Eva María Mendoza Lopez? Why my parents are from Colombia and I'm *not*?"
"Eva… we… didn't know…"
"I'm just some little white prize- a little novelty they had lyin' around the orphanage."
"Stop it, Eva," he says. "Stop it. You were *never* a gringa to us. You're *ours*. Our *child*- no matter what color you are…"
"Doesn't *matter* what you think, Papi- to *them*- I'm a gringa." I sigh. "And to the gringos, I'm Latina." I pause for a minute before adding, "Don't you *get* it? Nobody *wants* me…" I can't help it now.
I cry.
A lot.
And the next thing I know, Mami and Papi's arms around me and they're telling me how much they love me and how much they need me and crying about how much *they* wanted me and how the day they got me was the happiest day of their lives.
And when I calm down, and Mami's still holding me, she says quietly, "but the boys… sí, te quieren, ¿no?"
Yes, Mami- the boys have *always* wanted me.
And *then* my phone rings. I pull it out from my pocket as she lets me go. "Holla," I answer.
"Hey you, it's me. You okay?"
"Hi," I sigh. God- I love hearing his voice. "Yeah… I'm… I don't know. What up?"
I look at my mother's face as I talk to him and she… doesn't *have* that look in her eyes… this time. She doesn't flinch and I don't try to push her buttons.
"Just wondering how things were goin' and if you wanted to stay here while I'm away."
"I don't know… I'll have to get back ta ya, on that. I uh… might be doin' somethin' else. Not sure yet. But can I call ya back, Baby?"
"Yeah, sure, behave yourself."
"Don't I always?" I ask him jokingly.
"Never- that's what I like the most."
"Bye, *Marshall*," I say and hang up the phone.
"¿Quién es, Eva?" She asks. "You... you're going to get *hurt* one day. Or pregnant… Eva- there are *so* many things you could get- diseases… and you just-"
"Mami- I don't have *sex* for *money*. God- why do you always think the worst of me? I've *never* done *any*thing bad- *nunca*. I always get good grades and do my homework… I don't drink- I don't smoke… I'm sorry if I'm not the little católica you wanted, but…"
"Then *why*, Evita?" My father asks. "*Why* do you *hurt* yourself with them?"
"I don't," I say. "I don't *hurt* myself with them, Daddy. I *enjoy* myself with them. They make me *feel* good."
"Then why aren't you happy, Mija? If you feel so good- why haven't you been *happy*?" I stare at her for a good long time before pulling out one of the kitchen chairs and sitting.
That's a good question. I mean… I *thought* I was happy. But… is he right? *Have* I been hurting myself with them? Making myself feel like shit? But I don't *think* I've felt… 'dirty' with them. I enjoy sex. But… I enjoy it a *lot* more with Em, than I have with anybody. So *was* I not happy? *Am* I not happy?
"No sé," I answer because I don't know.
Part 2
Author: crazyevildru@yahoo.com
Back to fan fiction indexThese stories are for entertainment purposes only. They are completely fictitious, and the authors mean no harm to EMINEM, his family, friends, or anyone else that may have been depicted as a 'real life' character. No money was made on the fiction here, either directly or indirectly, i.e. paid advertising. In other words - it's just a bunch of shit we wrote for fun. Please don't take it seriously.