Okay, sorry for the late update, but I have a life, and you don't. So, sit back, grab a unicorn pillow pet, and relax.

Disclaimer: do you think this will get copy righted for the pillow pet mention?

When I got home, Michael and Eve were snuggling together in the couch, watching a black and white movie I suspected was Dracula. How did they get their hands on that movie?

"Hey, Claire Bear, where you been?" she asked, turning her attention from the movie to me.

"I went to Myrnin's." I answered. Hadn't I already told them that? I thought I'd told them or at least left a note. Hmm, I guess I forgot.

"Who's Myrnin?" asked Michael, finally turning his attention to me.

"You mean I didn't tell you? I'm pretty sure I did. Do you remember, Eve?" I asked, but before she could answer, Shane burst through the door, holding a bag of food.

"I'm home!" he slurred. He was drunk. I instantly knew the signs. He walked like he had a wedgy, he smelled so much of whiskey and leather that it almost chocked me, and he always looked at me differently. When he was sober, he'd look at me with love and affection, but when he was drunk, he looked at me with disgust and regret.

"Well, look who got the time out of his busy schedule to come and check up on us." Michael said, sounding angry.

"What the hell are you talking about? I don't have a 'busy' schedule. I just have a regular schedule. Now stop acting like a housewife and make me some food." He said, forgetting that he had a bag of food in his hands.

"Um, Shane, maybe you should just go to bed. You don't seem like yourself." I suggested.

He considered this for a long time, rubbing his chin with his index finger and thumb. Finally, he answered, "Nah, I want you to come with me. I need to have a talk with you. It's very important. Claire, and if you don't come, I might die." He said, putting the bag from Chaco's Tacos, the restaurant he worked at, down and grabbed a hold of my hand. Before I could protest, he was pulling me up the stairs to his room.

His room, as always, was a mess. The bed was unmade, there was dirty laundry everywhere, and trash discarded everywhere as well. But it smelled different somehow, like…

I felt tears begin to form and my throat tightened. It smelt like Monica Morrell, the bitch that made my life miserable every chance she got. But why would it smell like her? Why was her perfume in the air? And in Shane's bedroom? I thought he hated her. I was so stupid. It was only a cover, so no one would suspect that they were sleeping together. And I, being the fool that I am, believed the whole thing. Out of all the things Shane could've done to me, this was the worst out of all. Not only was he cheating on me, but he was doing it with the girl whose eyes light up when she say me in pain. Had he helped her? Did he like watching my pain and suffering too?

I looked at him drunk off his ass, totally ignorant to the fact that I'd found out he cheated on me with Monica.

I grabbed him by his shirt, and my eyes watered more because of the smell. Citrus and whiskey mixed together. I wanted to cry. The smell was like slap in the face.

"You're cheating on me with Monica, aren't you." I said, trying not to cry. The tears were threatening to spill over, but I forced them to stay put.

"So, you finally figured it out. Finally! I thought you'd never figure it out! And just as I was about to use you…" he looked at my body hungrily. "Well, that's a shame, seeing as to how you look so fine!" I slapped him across the face, not wanting to hear anymore out of him.

"You bitch!" he spat, and slapped me so hard I fell to the floor.

Oh, no! He just slapped her! Don't you just wanna kill that son of a bitch? I know I do. No surprise that he hit her though, seeing as to how he was drunk and all. And review for how fast Claire figured out Shane was cheating on her with that (insert every word in the book).