Marshall Mathers, also known around the world as Eminem or Slim Shady, had just turned twenty-seven. His birthday had been exciting and filled with all the booze and drugs he could of ever dreamed of. Not that this was anything new for the young and upcoming celebrity.
With his mind racing thanks to coming down hard off a night of ecstasy and booze, he decided he needed to get away for just a little while. Where to was the only question. For some reason his mind fell back on his home town in 8 mile. The thought of going home made his stomach lurch in discomfort and yet for some strange reason there was a nagging in his mind to go. So he packed his bags and ordered a plane ticket out there without letting anyone know.
Eminem stepped off the plane and immediately got into his rental Mercedes. The bleached blonde man drove at a ridiculous speed all the way to his neighborhood. He slowed down to over look each run down house and he sighed heavily. It didn't take long before he passed his own old home which was now vacant. He continued to drive until he was able to park a few blocks away. With it being five in the morning no one was out and the five block walk to his past home went smoothly with no one to spot him. Or so he thought.
As he broke into the house through the locked back door, he heard something. He froze and looked around but saw no one or anything to cause alarm.
"Probably a fuckin' stray." He mumbled.
Finally he managed to pick the lock and get inside. The electricity still worked to his surprise but he only turned on the kitchen light above the stove. He didn't need people seeing lights inside the house and wondering what was going on.
Marshall explored his old home. He made his way to his old bedroom where he only turned on the closet light. He sat down on the old worn out single mattress. His muscled and tattooed arms rested limp in his lap. He sat for a moment before throwing the backpack off his back and onto the floor. He dove inside to extract a couple of pills of ecstasy. He grabbed two single shot shooters of vodka he got on the plane and chugged those down. He winced at the taste and the burning in his gut.
Laying on his back on the bed, his legs hung off. He waited for the pills to kick in. Less than forty minutes later his eyes were opening and his pupils had been enlarged. His body felt warm and he sat back up to remove the black T-shirt. He sat in nothing more than jeans and tight black boxer briefs. As soon as his shirt hit the floor, he heard something. Marshall froze and his muscles tensed.
"Who the fuck is it?" He yelled, leaning over to look out the bedroom door.
The footsteps continued so he stood.
"I said who the fuck are you!" He demanded again.
"Kati." The feminine tone pronounced. It took Marshal back for he hadn't expected to hear a woman's soft and nurturing tone. His muscles unflexed, although his six pack abs remained hard and firm.
