If you'd asked me to describe myself a couple weeks ago, I'd have told you I'm Letty F***ing Dillinger--The Rock in your c**k, the cream in your w*t dream, the sp*nk in your junk.
I had everything a girl could want: A hot rocker boyfriend, fame, a nuclear c**ter, a smart phone ... The whole d*mn world at my feet. I worked my *ss off to get where I am, and I have no regrets.
But everything changed when she exploded on the scene with the mother of atomic bombs strapped across her chest. She's beautiful, talented, and holds the key to my future--my life as I know it--in her hands.
I hate her. I f***ing hate her. Because she and her merry band of b*tches made me do something I've never done before. They made me doubt myself.
Who am I?
I'm not sure anymore.