Paranoia: An Interior Monologue

What was that noise in the kitchen? Should I go look? What if something’s wrong? What if someone’s breaking in? This can’t be happening again. I could be hurt. How would my parents know?
Why am I being so silly? It’s probably nothing-But wait, there it is again. Maybe I should go check it out. I’ll just open my door slowly, breathe lightly, and creep down the hallway as quiet as possible. That’s it, now I just have to look around the corner. There’s no one to my right. But what about my left? If I’m not quick whoever is there will get me. Oh, there’s no one there.. But what about behind me? Someone could’ve followed me down the hallway from behind! Oh great, in turning around I have made myself step out in the open. Now I’m vulnerable. Way to go Nicole, you’re a genious. Now a complete 360-degree turn to make sure no one’s after me. All clear.. But just in case, I better keep my breathing low.
What’s that on the counter? It’s just our cat? But what’s that on the floor? She knocked over a bowl? Hmph, I’m worrying too much. I’ll go back to my room and lay down for a bit- Wait, my dad’s bedroom door is open. It wasn’t like that before. Or was it? Maybe he left his door open before he left.. Or maybe someone is in there looking for things to steal. What if he has a gun or knife like the guy before? Okay Nicole, calm down. There’s no one in the house, I’m just being paranoid.. God I am so stupid. Okay okay, just walk down the hall at a normal, non-paranoid pace… Or maybe jog down the hallway and glance behind me several times, because that’s totally normal and not paranoid at all. Open the door slowly once more, stand still and look at the end of the hallway, wait several seconds… Okay I’m in the clear. Now it’s time to leap into my room and shut the door as fast as I possibly can. Phew, I made it. And now to prepare for several repeats of this scenario until my parents get home.
Did I just hear something in the garage? What if someone really is breaking in again? What do I do this time? I’ll just stay here, maybe whoever is there won’t come into my room.. But what if he does? How will I defend myself if he has a weapon? Maybe I should go to sleep, when I wake up this will all be over.
Or I could have a nightmare of someone breaking in. I shouldn’t even be afraid anymore, that was three years ago! I wish I wasn’t such a baby. How will I ever go on thinking someone is breaking into the house all the time? Why does this only happen when I’m home alone? Why can’t I be in school right now instead of here?
Did the front door just open? I hear keys. Mom is home, now I’m safe and can do whatever I please without looking over my shoulder constantly. But that’s right, I have to deal with this again soon when I’m home alone. And it’s even worse at night! I’ll just worry about it when the time comes. For now, mom’s home and things are okay again now that I’m not alone.

Coma

I've been in this never-ending nightmare for too long. I don't even remember anything else. Only this. This.. Emptiness.
I'm Emily, I'm 11 years old with long strawberry blonde hair and light blue eyes. Everyday I wake up, and I eat the same breakfast. I use the same shampoo when I shower. I shower at the same time every day. I don't go to school anymore. I watch tv at the same time every day. I watch the same show on tv every day. And the same episode as well. I go out every day in the evening, at 6:47 sharp, and I play with my twin sister Annabelle, who lived with Dad. I live with Mom.
We do the same thing every day. We go out on the cliffs that overlook the ocean, we climb down and play in the salt water, and by the time the sun is at it's last moments of life, we walk back home.
Every night when we walk home, we cross a large street. Cars stop for us. Except for one. The same one always keeps going. My sister and I would push and shove each other playfully, and she shoved me too hard. I was sent flying in front of the car that refused to stop.
Realizing her fault, Annabelle would jump and push me out of the way. Quick enough to save us both. We would just sit looking at each other, then we would burst out laughing.
On some days I would ask, "Do you ever feel like we do the same thing every day? Like, everything keeps repeating?"
But she would just stare at me and say "What are you talking about? I haven't seen you in nearly a week." Every time.
At night, I would have the same dream of that car that doesn't stop. I fall asleep at 10PM, and wake up at 9AM. A hollow life, that I live.
But this dream, is different. Everything is black. I'm just standing still, staring into nothingness. It's like this for what feel like hours. But suddenly everything is running past me in a big bright blur. Fragments of memories and people talking. And I'm staring into white lights.
My eyes are open, and I can smell the stench of hospital equipment. I lean up slightly, looking around. I'm not in a small room. It's quite large, and there are other people in hospital beds lined up next to each other. A passerby stops and looks at me. Is she a nurse?
Her eyes grow wide and she rushes off out of the room. She returns moments later with a doctor by her side. He leans over me.
"Get in backup" he says urgently to the nurse beside him who obediently goes off in search. As more people in pale blue storm in, the doctor yells "This one's awake! She's awake! Get her out of here and into another room. She could go into shock!"
Shock? Of what?
I'm rolled immediately to a smaller room. The air smells cleaner. Slowly the doctors file out except for the original doctor, and the nurse. As the doctor stands by and looks at me, the woman starts asking me questions.
"Can you tell me what your name is?"
"Emily Norman." I don't recognize my own voice. It sounds distorted.
"Alright, can you tell me how old you are and what year it is?"
"I'm 11, it's 1997" I'm confused.
The doctor sighs before speaking "I'll go call her family."
The two quickly walk out, leaving me alone to wonder to myself, discombobulated.
About thirty minutes pass before two people enter my room along with the nurse from earlier.
"Emily.. sweetie..?" One of the two is a woman, whose voice is shaky and hoarse. She's very old. The man is obviously old aged too.
I stare at the woman "Who are you?" I ask.
"Emily, this is your mother and this is your father." The nurse speaks up.
"No they're not.. They're old" I say through odd lips.
"Emily, you've been in a coma since June of 1997. It's now 2024. That's 27 years, and you are 38." She says slowly to me, looking into my eyes.
"That's not right. Just yesterday Annabelle and I were playing together." I protest.
"Emily," My so called dad begins, "on the last day you and Annabelle saw each other, you walked out in front of a car that didn't stop or slow down. Your sister pushed you out of the way, saving you, but she couldn't save herself. She's dead now. It was a hit and run, and the criminal who killed her was never caught.. When she pushed you, you fell and hit your head on the pavement.. You had to get stitches and staples in your skull. Ever since then, you've been in a come." He's on the verge of tears, I can tell. I don't understand.
The nurse asks me if I want a mirror so I can look at myself. And when she brings it in, I notice my hands are slightly wrinkled, a sign of aging.
I see a face of clear skin, slight wrinkles in the corners of my eyes, and my hair is long and has turned a brown color. I realize then. I don't look like me.
It's Annabelle staring back at me, a twisted grin on her face.

Cave

The two young girls walked along the damp, dark dirt path on a humid night in midsummer. Looking back at the glow of orange street lights lighting up the black sky, they drew further and further away from town.
Mosquitoes bit the bare flesh of their legs. The pre-teenage girls wore too-big shorts that covered their skinny legs to mid-thigh, and too-big tank tops that covered their flat bare chests. Definitely hand-me-downs from ten years ago in the 70’s. The wet air stuck to their skin like gum to a school desk.
They walked down a path that winded down next to a pond surrounded by tall grass and cattails. Off a bit from the path and pond, was a very deep, large cave. They had found their destination. The town, was now almost out of sight. The sky around what was visible of the town, was a slightly transparent orange tint, unlike the dark, black wilderness that surrounded the girls at their current location. If not for the moon, the girls could have well been blind. The soil of the path, had turned into a wetter mud, much like the mud on the floor of the pond. A foul stench blew out of the cave.
“You really think there’s something in there?” One girl ask, turning toward the other. Her voice rang out, piercing the silence, making the other girl tense up, startled.
“I don’t know.. Maybe. My grandmother told me that her great-grandmother lived near here, in an Indian tribe. She said no one ever went near the cave, everyone was too frightened that there may be a monster or demon waiting. One day, two of the men from the tribe went down, and one went in. When he didn’t return, the other went after him,” she paused, taking a breath. “Neither returned for days. The chief of the tribe took several men to search for them, only to see that their bodies laid outside of the cave, torn apart and half chewed to bits.” She took a step back from the cave, gagging at the harsh smell.
“I don’t believe any of it.” The other girl sang, as if proving that she were brave. “Let’s go in!” She grabbed her friend’s arm and the two headed inside of the cave, unknowing of what hell they were walking into.
The two walked on in the never-ending cave, trying not to breathe in the dirty air that grew worse the further in they walked. The two cut their feet on what appeared to be pieces of bone that stuck out of the slippery, smelly, wet sludge under their feet. After becoming comfortable, the two let go of each other, not saying a word. One of the girls, walked a bit behind the other, thinking selfishly. She heard a thump and an “oof” come from her friend, as she ran into something large, and furry. She fell backwards onto the girl, both falling. Both on he ground, covered in who knows what, heard something. What started out as heavy breathing turned into loud, viscious growls that echoed throughout the cave. The two stumbled, slipped, and scrambled to their feet, and began to run. Something was chasing them. Thump, thump, thump.
One tripped over a piece of bone, and fell face-first into the dirt. The other girl, after running several feet further, turned around at the sound of screams further in the cave. Something was ripping, and chewing. as her friend’s screams faded into silence, she took off for the mouth of the cave.
She reached the outside, collapsing on the dirt, and turned herself towards the cave. She heard something walking. She didn’t see anything, until out of the black, rolled her friend’s body, covered in feces, bits of bone, slobber, and blood. She was chewed up. Half eaten. Dismembered.
Horrified, the girl got to her feet, and took four steps backward. Screaming, she took off running back down the path, wishing she had never left town that night. She didn’t look back. Or return.

A Bleeding Sun

When I was young, I saw the sun bleeding. Its red, orange, and yellow brightness painted the sky. It was bleeding. It was melting.
I was sent to the market to get some bread and milk, mom was very sick. I was six.
We lived in a very sandy area, but there was a forest not too far from the market. I loved the forest, I would use it to my advantage, by playing pretend. There are no other kids here, so I’m often alone.
I decided to take the long way back from the market, which included crossing through the thickly wooded area. A certain path I knew of, brought me up, up and up into the sky, onto a cliff, that had me dangling above the whole town. I went there whenever possible, and I’d watch the sunsets and count the petals of the Blue Passion Flowers that grew on the cliff. They only grew on that cliff. You never saw them anywhere in the town, but they were beautiful and fragile, begging to be touched.
I stopped at the cliff, and set the milk and bread down. I plucked one of the flowers from its vine and sat at the very edge of the cliff, my legs hanging over the town. My town.
The wind blew my hair back behind me. And as it changed direction it snatched the flower from my hand, and blew it away out over the town. I reached out as if to call it back to me, but it just kept going, getting further and further from my outstretched hand.
And just like that, the sky grew very dark. The lights down in town started to flicker and everyone stepped outside to see what was going on.
At that instant, it was like the sun was an artist, and everywhere else was the canvas. For its color scattered out over everything, as if reaching out to us. Calling us. Wanting to harm us.
The sky was dark red and orange. It wasn’t just bleeding, or exploding, it was melting.
The temperature then increased significantly. Pushing 106 degrees Fahrenheit.
At first I didn’t know what to do, but then it occurred to me that mom was still at home by herself, and sick.
Panicked I got up, and began to run, leaving the bread and milk behind. If I got home, and mother was alright, I could always go back to the market to get some more tomorrow. All that mattered at that time, was mother’s safety. I raced through the woods, getting closer and closer to town. The branches and thorned vines sliced my skin, and it hurt.
As I made it into town, everyone was screaming, and running in the streets. Everyone was bigger than me, everyone was older than me, was louder than me. And no one saw me. I was a little girl, in a small dress, trying to push my way through a crowd of adults 3 times my age.
I was screaming out “Mommy! Mommy!” but my voice and presence were ignored. Only one man noticed me. He was a bit older than everyone else, and had a grey beard.
He towered over me with a vicious look on his face, and simply said “Get out of my way!”
I was being shoved and pushed in several directions. And I didn’t like it.
Someone’s fist managed to find my back, and the blow sent me forward. Face first, I fell onto the ground. People trampled me, crushed me, and I was crying out:
“Mommy! I’m coming! Don’t worry! Mommy!” I was crying onto the dirt road. Dirt got in my nose and it felt like I was suffocating, as people continued to ignore my body, and step on me. And then I felt nothing.
When I got up, everything was dark. And the streetlights were out. There was no moon, but I could manage to see a bit.
I stood up, limping. No one was around.
It was cold. The kind of cold that could kill someone.
My first thought was to get to mommy. So, I pushed on, past all the stores, and into a small brick home.
I called out “Mommy?”, but I didn’t hear a voice back. So I went to her room,
And there she was, laying there like stone. Gone with the wind. Gone with the sun.
And it was at that moment, that I too realized.. I’d gone away with her, and with the sun.
When I was young I saw the sun bleeding. Its red, orange, and yellow brightness painted the sky. It was bleeding, it was melting.
And I was gone

Witching Hour

Alone, in a dark, cool, damp room. As twilight turns into dark morning, I'm in a deep, uncomfortable slumber. You know those nights where you're asleep, but you're not dreaming? It's just black? Yeah, it's one of those nights. Being a boy of 16, I usually dream of girls. Being with girls, sleeping with girls, you know, typical guy stuff. but tonight, I'm not dreaming of anything.
It's 2:13AM. The dogs are barking off in the distance. Somewhere a man is driving drunk, depressed that the love of his life has left him. A girl is hitchhiking with a bag full of clothes and money she stole from her parents to make her great escape. A robbery is taking place in an innocent couple's home, as they sleep their lives away. A gamer is wide awake, playing World of Warcraft, a truck driver is feeling as though his life is empty.
It's 2:13. AM. It's close. The witching hour. It's the time where most tragedies happen. But who says I actually believe in that crap? No way. There's no such thing. I'm asleep right now, and there's nothing here in my room waiting to take me away. Nothing bad will happen. I'm totally okay and nothing. Will. Happen. Right? Right. There's nothing watching me. There's a logical explanation for that noise I just heard. Maybe it's the house settling. Yeah, that's what it is.
The minutes tick by. The more that pass, the closer I am to waking up. The hour is coming up.
I can feel it. Standing over me, watching. Waiting.
As the hour rolls around, an unlucky teenage boy opens his eyes, coming out of sleep, and sees a tiny, beady pair of demonic ones staring at him. He opens his mouth to yell, but nothing comes out, and the figure opens it's mouth to feed.
A drunk driver crashes into a tree, and dies on impact. The love that he lost, gone forever. She won't come to his funeral.
A runaway girl is picked up off the side of the road, raped brutally, and killed. So much for a great escape.
A couple is woken up by noises in the kitchen. An unlucky burglar meets his end from the hand of the homeowner. The homeowner rushed to the hospital injured trying to protect his woman.
The power goes out at a house, where everyone should be sleeping, all except for a gamer. Angered, he goes and messes with wires, trying to get power back. At the moment it comes back, he is electrocuted. The computer screen is white noise.
A lonely truck driver picks up a girl on the side of the road, holding her thumb out. She'll fill the emptiness for sure. Her body. Soft skin begging for it. For sure. But when it goes too far, the truck driver panics. Where to hide the body without anyone knowing?

The witching hour is the time of day/night that the most tragedies and deaths happen.
But no one really believes in that crap. Right?

Outside

Ever since I was old enough to count, my parents never let me out of the house. There are bars on the outside of every window, and all the doors have five locks. I have never attended school, or met anyone other than family. I was born with blonde hair, but being inside so long has turned it dark brown. My veins show through my skin. I'm 16 years old.
I sit in my room all day. It consists of a tv, but no cable. A computer, with no internet, a bed, dresser, and educational books like the encyclopedia or dictionary. Occasionally I get to play with dolls.
I am only allowed to eat homemade meals, which is not every night. And if I do something wrong in my father's eyes, I get beatings. I hate it here.
But on this night in particular, I will be getting out. To the outside. We have an alarm, and I have never been allowed to know what the code is. My parents feared me using it to get out of the house. Little do they know, they're really bad at not letting me see the pad when they type in the key. 0702 is the code. What I have to do is simple: put in the code, and unlock the back door to escape. If I get a stepping stool, I can easily reach the top lock, and I'm set to go.
I walk out to the family room, not a person in sight, however the tv has been left on, lighting the room. I see my parents' bedroom door is open, and so I walk into their room. It's nearly pitch black, but I grab my mother's large beige tote bag, and waltz into the bathroom, closing the door and flipping on the light, I search the bathroom to find a little green box beside the toilet. It's filled with money. $400 exactly. I grab it, turn off the light, open the door ever so quietly, and bring the bag with me into the family room, closing the bedroom door. I stuff the money in a pocket on the inside of the bag, and head to my bedroom, where I push clothing into the bag, along with a hairbrush, and a small notebook that I write in as a journal. I make my way into the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge, putting what I can into the bag, and I think I'm set.
I walk up to the alarm and press my clammy fingertips to the small padded buttons. 0-7-0-2 "System disarmed". I freeze. I hear rustling coming from my parents' bedroom. I can feel the sweat forming on my forehead. Nothing. I walk back to the back door, and unlock four of the five locks, careful as to not make a sound. I grab a foot stool, and climb up, undo the last lock and return the stool. Freedom.
I slide the door open, tote on shoulder, and slip outside. It's cool. Cold. Really cold. I stand there and stare outside. Should I really do this? What will they think of me? Will they find me? Will I ever see them again? No clue. But the trees are screaming at me to come to them. I've already come this far. Why not?
I walk slowly, feeling the earth and grass beneath my feet for the first time. It's exciting, and I can feel it building inside me- and I begin to run. Through the trees I run, elegantly, for I fear falling and hurting myself.
I'm running for about 3 minutes before I lose the ability. Now I gasp for air, stumbling out of the trees and onto the side of a highway. There aren't many cars. I stick out my thumb as I walk down the highway. After some time, a car slows down, a young man leans out the window.
"Need a ride, ma'am?"
"I would appreciate it." I'm shaking.
"Hop in, ma'am."
I crawl into the small vehicle, and get comfortable in the seat.
"Where to, miss?"
"Anywhere away from here." I say as I drift immediately into sleep.

When I wake, I'm lying on a bed, hands and legs tied to bedposts. I look around in panic. There's the man.
"Where am I?" I ask.
"Where no one will find you." He whispers, unbuttoning his pants and walking over.
At that first touch the world goes black.

Grey

The two lay together, tousled in the sheets. He had just drifted into slumber, and she lay awake looking to the ceiling- searching for memories of the past. The smell of sweet love still lingers in the air under the grey moonlight. Neither had ever gone so far before; to the path of no return. The deed is done.
"He doesn't handle his emotions well"- say the scars up and down his arms.
"She doesn't eat quite enough"- scream her semi-sunken cheeks.
Young and imperfect love fills these teenagers. The deed has been done.
In the dim glow of the moon through the window, she turns her cold face toward the boy. The moonlight shimmers off of his silk skin. She admires every aspect of him. The world around her grey- and yet despite the melancholy setting; though her face betrays her, she feels what she believes may be love. She looks in awe at the scars on his arms. Traces every outline of his face, and thinks back to the time she searches for.
It's a cold and gloomy day near the end of October nearly two years previous. She stands in the middle of festival games and rides. The clouds shade everything in grey. Everyone seems delighted except for her. She stands alone in her size 0 jeans and an overly sized jacket to hide the shame of her body. She looks at the ground around her, glancing up every once in a while to see the unfamiliar faces multiply. She kicks at the dirt under her shoes, drowning out the sounds of people. Everything seeming to move in slow motion around her. Just her. Her thoughts. And the dirt. It takes the girl a moment to notice that a pair of worn shoes are in place in front of her. Time speeds back up as she realizes a person is standing before her.
The boy looks at the girl, and the girl looks back. Nothing is said, yet the girl knows that there's something about him that attracts her. She steps closer.
"Surely someone beautiful as you isn't here alone." inside she flinches at the words he speaks. He looks her in the eye, to which she looks away. Stays silent.
"You know, you don't have to be alone now. Lets get ice cream together." He suggests in more of a statement than a question. She nods and he motions for her to follow him.
She takes the sight of him in before following- Having no clue that the boy will have such an impact on her life. not knowing that in time- she will get to experience love. Make love. See what others may never see and what's underneath those clothes. What's underneath the flesh- and the nature of his calm heart; his secrets and how he longs for a blade. She follows, changing her life forever.
A by with a knack for pain and a girl who doesn't eat enough lay together, stripped of clothing, in bed. She looks over at the boy who has fallen into slumber and thinks of when he saved her life- and she saved his.
She turns over, skin to skin with the boy; and suddenly the world isn't so grey anymore.

Phoebe

The man raises himself in his bed bed come morning. The light shines through the translucent curtains on the window. He sits up and shifts himself out of bed. Slowly lifts himself and wobbled over to the mirror in his bathroom. He stares down the face, aged along with the wallpaper of the bathroom. He stands for near a minute, before turning around, accomplishing nothing, and drags himself to the kitchen. He grips a coffee mug from the sink, turns on his coffee maker. A girl on his mind.
He leaves his home, drives to the nearby high school. He is a teacher- English. He sits through boring class after class, sitting watching the students- watching the sleep seep into their eyes. Some whisper to each other. Some write notes. Gossip. Others study. Others fall asleep. He gives an uneventful lecture. A girl on his mind.
He drives to the nearby cafe. Orders himself a hot tea and salad. He reads a novel for the hundredth time. A Farewell To Arms. No one notices him. He's nothing more than a part of the background. He sits reading his book. A girl on his mind.
He arrives home, and starts a warm bath. He bathes- a slow and and tedious task. The oils drain off of his splotched skin. He dries himself. Grabs a cup of milk. A girl on his mind.
He lays in bed. Stares at the ceiling. Moon shining bright. His cheeks glow with tiny rivers of teardrops that form in his eyes. He cries to himself. Not making a sound. The tears make their way down his neck, and wet his shoulders and pillow. He cries as he falls into a light sleep- with a girl on his mind.
Her name was Phoebe. She was the prettiest thing a man could ever lay eyes on. The man had enough luck to be able to call her, his. They knew each other from junior high school. As time rolled on, she became president of student council- he was 5th in his class. The two formed a relationship. Nearly every male was envious of him. They grew closer. Made love. Became engaged in the coming years. But she suddenly became very ill. Cancer. She battled it for three years before she died. A slow death. The man by her side, weeping. Watching. He had lost the love of his life. The person who he built his life around. She was gone. He hadn't really lost everything, but in his mind, he might as well have.
Morning comes around. Dreams of his beloved Phoebe no doubt. The night did not bring him good sleep. He raises himself up in bed. The sunshine of morning shines in. He repeats. Every day it's the same old thing.
Three days pass. A bottle lay beside the bed as the light of dawn shines. He does not rise.

Slim Chances

As a teenager in high school, Darren, 17 years old, was a junior. He had friends, had family, but he didn't have a special someone- though he wanted someone. Her name was Dana. The two had been friends, you could say. He had liked her for almost two years. Growing older he had always kicked himself in the face for not gathering the courage to ask her on a date. He wanted to, believe me, he did, but his shyness and fear of rejection prevented him from making a move. Senior year, and he lost his chance when Dana started dating one of the jocks.
Graduation came and went, and not nearly a year later Darren got a notification via social networking website. It was an invitation. Dana was getting married. Angered at both Dana and himself, Darren deleted his account and needless to say, didn't show up at the wedding. Though time went on, he never stopped hating himself for not taking his chance. If he had just said something, made a move, he instead would be marrying Dana.
Fast forward to Darren's mid-twenties. He has nearly forgotten the mere existence of Dana. Good riddance to her, right? Right. He had been backpacking across the states. Nearly 1,500 into his trip he is in New Orleans, and is just about to enter his favorite place to eat. Sweat-dripping, and smelly just as he is about to walk in the door, his cellphone rings. He had even forgotten he owned a cell phone. Hell, he wasn't into family. And all of his friends had all gone their separate ways in life. What did he even need it for? Though he never deleted his contacts, regardless of time or the end of relationships.
He lifts the phone into view. It's Dana. Perplexed, the memories come rushing back into mind. He answers.
"Hello?" He breathes.
"Darren? Hi, it's Dana. You remember me, right? From high school?"
"Of course. How can I forget?"
"I heard you were uh, back packing? I read it in the newspaper. Rather- my dad read it. He wants to meet you, and wants to hear about it. Would that be okay? When will you be back?"
"I can be back tomorrow night I think." Unbelieving.
"Alright, cool! Maybe you'd want to.. Go out for dinner or coffee?" She is hesitant.
He agrees, thinking he could not be luckier, and turns away from the restaurant.
The two sit together outside on a sunny day. They sip coffee and discuss life since graduation. She teaches- coincidence, he does too. She teaches Advanced Placement English. He teaches Advanced Placement Psychology. She is no longer married. Has a kid. And her father had died four years after her graduation. Which is around the time she ended her marriage. What an excuse, to get Darren to meet her for a date.
Once again we fast forward- both are in their early thirties. The two have been married for two years. Darren loves and accepts Dana's son, Aiden (age 8), like his own. And the two now have a little bundle of joy themselves, Finley (age 1).
Darren thinks of how lucky he is that his high school self didn't have the guts to make a move. He wouldn't want anything to be any different than now.

Stranger Part I

It's so cold outside of this local Starbucks. It's 10PM on a Friday night, and I sit with three people. Three boys. A writing block has taken over, as I sip on my hot chocolate- because too much coffee upsets my stomach. I'm asking what to write about, but none of the boys are any good at the kinds of things I write about. I sit thinking for a long while, when a man walks in. Naturally, I turn my head to see who has come in. He's unfamiliar, but I don't think too much. I mean, I'm not going to know everyone in town.
The man catches my attention again, ten minutes later when he sits by himself, having ordered nothing. I've found something to write about. He paces. Looks at the art on the walls. Watches us. Me.
It's so strange, to look at someone and not know a single thing they've been through. To not know anything about someone. To not know if anyone knows anything about anyone. Who is this guy? Why's he here? What's his purpose?
It's amazing, to think that someone has their own life. Everyone has their own life, and everyone's busy doing things to fulfill their needs and wants and lives, and for a moment, you don't feel important. You don't feel like a center. You feel small. You feel like you're life is much less when compared to the lives of many others. I like this feeling. I feel more blended in, and most times, I like to be invisible. It's nice to think that the world doesn't revolve around you, it's slightly less stressful and worrisome. Others are dealing with so much more, and you are thankful for what you have in the moments you consider these concepts. You are not significant, and that's a comforting thought.
But who is he? Why is he here? What are his wants? His needs? It seems like he should be an ordinary person, but here I am, wondering why he's still standing around at midnight with not a thing to eat or drink. Not paying attention, I here murmuring. When I focus, I can here the man talking to an employee about getting a ride to Zephyrhills. He has a while to wait, for the young man behind the counter to get off shift.
He does not do much more, and before anyone knows it, it's 1AM. The man, saying nothing, takes his leave and walks outside. Walks away. Who knows where he'll go. Hope he finds what he's looking for.

Runaway

Lilly was a tall, strawberry-blonde, thin, busty, blue-eyed one of a kind. Everyone who came across her thought her beautiful. Even the ones that envied her and spread rumors about her thought her beautiful. The rumors were awful.
Did you hear, Lilly fucked James in the boys bathroom last week.
I heard Lilly sucked off a homeless man for fun.
I've been hearing that for just five bucks you can get into her pants.
Even the teachers talk about her. Most are sympathetic. However some are sick. Two male teachers in the past three months have called her into their classrooms only to attempt at seducing the teenager, who bluntly refuses every time.
The thing about Lilly is, she's not at all what people make her out to be. Despite her misleading figure, she's only had one relationship. It lasted for a year, and when she said she didn't feel comfortable sleeping with the guy, he left and ruined her rep. Every day Lilly struggles getting home in one piece, sometimes a student will follow her home. She lives with her grandparents, who don't pay attention to her.
Lilly is always feeling devastated, and regrets waking up alive in the mornings. Until one day, she decided to leave. She packed her bag with clothes and stole $2,000 from her grandparents in the middle of the night. The next day, she explained to them that she was going over to a friend's house for a few days, to which her grandparent's were perplexed, she never hung out with anyone, but they didn't question it, and decided it would be good for her health. Only Lilly wasn't going to a friend's house.
She walked several miles that day, in the hot sun. Stopped for some food at a Burger King. Snuck into a gated community when a car entered, used the public showers by the pool, someone left a bar of soap. And was on her way once more. She was walking on the side of the road when a horn sounded behind her. A semi was pulling over. A man gestured for her to enter the truck, and so a sweaty Lilly couldn't do much more but comply.
"Thanks" she sighed as the cool air struck her face.
"No problem, Miss. What's a girl like you doing walking around on the side of an interstate?"
"I've just, got some business is all. It's not really anyone's business."
"That, it's not. I won't question it." He was quiet for a minute or two. He lied, "You running away, Miss? You can't be older than 17."
"My age doesn't matter. What's it to you if I'm running away or not?" She played defensively.
"You're too young for this kind of thing, you know?" He pestered.
"I'm old enough to know what I'm doing."
"Fair enough, if you think you're so tough and smart.. Now, I've helped a few like you in my lifetime. I'm not one to fool around with people's wishes, and I'm no pervert either. So, where are you heading Miss?"
Lilly hadn't thought about where she might be going, but to avoid looking like a moron, who doesn't know what she's doing, she blurted out "Las Vegas".
"Vegas? Wow, dream big. Watch out for the whores and drugs, kid. Lots of underage girls like you are into prostitution, and a number of them are on drugs like heroin."
"Whatever. You said you wouldn't mess with what I want, and I want to go to Vegas." Lilly huffed.
"Whoa whoa whoa, hold it Miss. I said I wouldn't screw with your plans, but that doesn't mean I'm taking you to Vegas."
"Then where are you taking me?"
"I can take you a ways, but I can't afford to go to Vegas. Stay here for the night. I've got a bed in the back of here, you can rest here, and I'll just sleep up here. Tomorrow night though, you need to skedaddle on out of here. I'll drop you off at a rest stop. Sound okay?" and Lilly nodded.
The rest of the day went by based around small talk. The two grabbed dinner from a diner. Though he had to bring her food, considering truck drivers aren't supposed to smuggle anyone anywhere. And when night came, she curled up on the small but decent mattress. The man was passed out in the front seat. The semi on the side of the road. He snored softly. Lilly was restless, pulled out a flashlight she had packed into her bag and looked around the back of the truck. Books about philosophy, records, canned food for emergencies, towels, magazines, water in a jug, deodorant. Normal stuff. Except for a piece of paper jammed between two books she had spotted. Without making noise Lilly slipped the piece of paper out, and glared the light on it: MISSING: CHARLES JAMES MCIVY. HAIR: BLONDE. EYE: BROWN. HEIGHT: 6'. WEIGHT: 160LBS. AGE: 17. LAST SEEN: LEAVING FOR SCHOOL MONDAY MORNING. IF YOU HAVE ANY INFORMATION PLEASE CONTACT THE NUMBER LISTED BELOW.
Lilly was confused. She fell asleep in confusion and dreamed about chocolate milkshakes and burgers.
When she rose the next morning, the driver had already been well off driving for a long while and the sun was nearly blinding. She spent the day in the back, humming along to the music in the truck, until nightfall came, and it was time to take her leave.
"Good luck out there, Miss." The driver said to her through the open passenger door. "It's a little overwhelming out there. There are a lot of crazy people."
"I know who you are. Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about, either. You ran away too when you were a teenager. I saw a flyer."
"That's all in the past, Miss. Nearly, I'm not the same man I was. Nevertheless, I hope you find what you're searching for."
She closed the door, and he was driving away, and she started for the inside of the rest area, seeing a bench inside where she could sleep.
She fell asleep wondering where she was going to go, dreamed of what would become of her, would she return home? Find whatever it was she was searching for?
Only who knows who she is now?

The Hint of Recovery: A Creative Essay For A Contest

Outside? What is outside? It is dark here, where I am. Always am. Which is where? Where am I exactly? I couldn’t possibly be in my bedroom. In my home. This is not a home. It’s a house, but not a home. And here I lay, staring up at the nonentity that is my life. All traces of felicity and vivacity gone with the smile I last wore years ago. Doctor, what should we do? Nothing. The last thing we want is to subject this innocent child to pills. Early in the morning I arrive to the highlight of my empty days- class, and am surrounded by modern insomniacs. Am I one? Or is it just the depression? Doesn't matter, I still look dead as the rest. I am detached from this world. I cry, I sink. I am spinning. Falling deeper into my own misery. I feel the silence around me, and it screams- I lack perfection. What if I let myself go? Who would be at fault? Is it me? Or the population? Ignoring my cries for help. Recovery? I could try. On my own? I’m not sure. Then there’s you. A perfect body, perfect smile, perfect soul, everything- my perfection. Standing on the outside, staring in at me, reaching out to me- recovery. Terrified, I’m ready to try. Exhausted, I weakly open the door to the world of recovery. So many possibilities, and then there’s you. The sun is blinding.

Stranger Part II

It's a cold, wet night during the winter in a small Floridian town near Orlando. One of the few times it is actually cold in the winter. In this part of Florida, it's almost never cold.
I am a man of 40. Getting older and older. Almost a year ago I grew sick of feeling old. I guess you could call it a mid-life crisis. That's what that is right? Anyway, I decided "screw the family! Screw it all. I need to live while I still can", and I left. I walked away from my wife, two kids, my friends, and I left. I went to Vegas. Always heard it's amazing there. Glamorous, in a way. It wasn't. I ran out of money a month or two ago. Blew it all on prostitutes. And quite a few lap dances from girls at the strips. It's amazing what a girl'll do for good money. I tried to find a job, but no one wants a man going on 40. Unless you're an escort for gay prostitutes. Can you believe people actually pay for that shit? Me- Almost stooping down to gay prostitution. No way. I walked from that one. Screw Vegas. I miss my family. My friends. I don't know why I ever decided coming to Vegas would be a good idea.
My family lives in Zephyrhills. Right now I'm passing through a small town called Plant City. It's small. And there are a lot of Hispanics. And rednecks. It's 10:30 PM. Not many places are open, and it's cold out- I need to take a break. I don't have a car, or a ride. I've been walking this entire time, and hitchhiking.
There's a Starbucks, and it's open. I don't really care for their coffee, but it's open, and not as cold inside. Okay. I'm going to go in.
It's not very crowded. One person is on shift. Another worker is sitting at a small table with a water, and his phone. Near a corner sits an elderly couple, with coffee I assume. At the larger square table, by the window, sit college students, three males and a female, with a computer, on a website that looks as though she is writing a book. I can barely make out the title of the chapter. It says "Phoebe". Interesting.
The girl behind the counter speaks out to me,
"Excuse me, sir. Can I get you anything? Coffee, water, bread?"
I refuse. Just trying to get away from the cold. Thanks anyway. That's what I want to say, but instead I just shake my head. Ashamed that I, of all people, are here before all of these lovely people. I am pathetic, given how I have spent the past year intoxicated by drugs and sex.
Twenty minutes pass, and I'm reading signs on the wall, there are six and in different colors. They say different facts about different places. Like, one says "Costa Rica", it's in green. And it gives lists of Volcanoes to visit and enthusiastic reviews on them with underlining and italics about how amazing the scenery is. Like, how weird is that?
It's been nearly an hour since I've stepped in. I haven't said a word, I just sit silently on a couch by the wall, under the pictures. The elderly couple has left. The college kids as they were, laughing. And the girl still types ferociously at her keyboard.
The worker sitting turned to me.
"Are you going to order anything while you're here?" He asks.
"No, I'm just passing through, sitting a while before I'm off again. Say, could you maybe give me a lift?" It's worth a shot. The lad looks, maybe 20? Young and free to do what he likes.
"I'm about to start my shift actually, if you're still here when I get off, then sure, I can take you."
Sweet. I have a ride.
It's weird. These people here, with their own pasts, and futures, and lives. I wonder what each of them has gone through. Where they've come from. It's amazing how much you wonder.
Time goes by. I decide I'm better off walking again. And I take my leave at 1 AM. The girl at her computer watches me as I walk away. I wonder what she's writing about now.

Living with Abuse (Written five years ago)

In the car. I’m with my mother. Classic rock, were both singing along. I’m lucky she doesn’t see my bruise on my forehead. It’s covered by my hair. I’ve got a few scars on my shoulder, she never noticed. Thank god. It’s these small moments, that make me happy. And I’m never happy. Ever. Not since he came into my life and fooled me. Now I’m in deep shit.
She’s driving me to the nearest convenience store, to meet my boyfriend, so we can look at Christmas cards for our families.
If only it were that simple.
If only it were as warm and happy as it normally would be for couples to shop together.
Not us.
I guess it’s just not our style.
Wrong. It is. It’s my style. Not his.
I have light brown hair, it’s just past my ears. My bangs reach just below my eyes. I keep them pushed to the side.
I have green eyes, decorated by eyeliner.
My skin is pale. I burn in the sun.
I’m 5 feet, exactly.
I’m in a big black jacket. Knee knockers. Sneakers.
I have 2 cuts on my back, each 3 inches long.
I have a bruise on my forehead.
Scars on my right shoulder.
Bruises on my stomach.
No one knows but me. And him.
He’s around 6 feet. Short, dark brown hair, also pale.
He dresses in chains, has almost golden eyes. And a fist that could punch your lights out.
I’m getting out of the car.
I’m heading inside. Mother’s already driving home.
At first.. He was nice.
At first.. He was sweet.
Then.. He showed me who he really was.

He’s standing to the side. Walks over.
“Hi” He smiles.
“Hello.” I look down.
Not many words are exchanged.
Were making our way towards the Christmas cards, as he says he’s going to look in the next isle over. Then he’s gone.
This world is black and white.
I sit, on the store floor looking at all the different cards.
This melancholy is always with me now.
They’re all so pretty.
And then, this guy. This other guy.
He works here. He’s nice. He’s tall, has long, light brown hair and hazel eyes. He always smiles at me. And for a moment, the world is in color it seems.
While my mind is somewhere else, out of the corner of my eye, I see a familiar figure standing not too far away. And there that guy is.
I look over. And like usual, he smiles at me. So I smile back, and I wave.
Just as the worker waves back, he comes whipping around the corner. He’s seen me wave at the worker.
This is hell.


“Who the fuck is that?!” Brian screams, anger on his face.
“No one.” I answer, astonished.
He grabs my arm and jerks me up fiercely.
“Don’t fucking lie to me!” He smacks my face. Violently.
“It’s no one. No one. I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” I yell. Eyes closed.
He grabs my hair, and tilts my head back against the stand of cards as he smacks my face one more time before dragging me to the doors.
I managed a glimpse back at the worker, jaw dropped.
This is indeed, hell.

I just turned 17 two weeks ago. And Brian is 18. My name is Airi. I used to love life. I used to have friends. I used to be close to my family. Then I met Brian. He was the nicest, sweetest guy I had ever met. But once we started to date. I’ve lost my friends, I’m barely home, and I’m abused by Brian constantly.
I was in a car crash about a month ago. A man ran a red light, and crashed right into the drivers seat of my car. I still have a scar on my left cheek.
I haven’t gotten a new car yet. And my mother doesn’t want me driving her car. So she drives me everywhere. At least, if I’m ever around.
Brian and I are in his car now. As he starts driving, I start to think.. I have no clue where we’re going.
About ten minutes pass before he finally says something.
“So… Who is that guy? And what is he to you?”
“The worker? I told you, no one. I see him whenever I’m in the store. He smiles to everyone. He doesn’t mean anything to me. I don’t even know him.” I lied.
I don’t know him, that’s true. But he does mean something to me.
But how can someone you don’t even know, mean something to you?
Who knows? Not me.
“You know I love you.” He pauses, “I don’t mean to hurt you.. I just.. Have to keep you in line.”
“I don’t need to be ‘kept in line’. I’m fine handling things by myself”
“Don’t start with me.”
And it’s silent for a while longer. Still no sense of where we’re going. But I’ve noticed. There’s a little blue car behind us. Who’s that driving? God my eyes are getting bad.
Brian turns onto a dirt road, and stops the truck.
He leans closer to me.
I move as far to the opposite side of the truck as possible.
“What is it?” He asks. “You want this don’t you?”
I shake my head no.
“Come on. Just give it a try.”
“I Don’t want to.”
“Why not?”
“I just don’t.” I argue.
It took about 10 seconds for him to reply. And it was only one word.
“Out.”
“What?”
“Out.” He said, anger boiling in his throat, shaking his voice. “Get out.”
“But, where are we?”
“I said to fucking get out!”
“But, how will I get hom-” I’m cut off by the feel of his hand on one of my earrings. And I can feel it being ripped through the flesh of my ear.
He throws the bloody earring across the truck, and he unbuckles his seat belt and crawls to my side of the truck.
“When I tell you to do something, you fucking listen!” He yells, pumbling my face with one hand, and my stomach with the other.
I’m crying out for him to stop, but he keeps going. And I’m stuck in the seat belt.
He brings out a blade from his pocket, and holds it to my stomach, his hands are shaking.
I’m looking in his eyes. I see sadness. What made him this way? How can a person like this exist?
With no time to spare he jammed it through the jacket, through my shirt, through my skin.
Brought the blade out and to my cheek.
“I want you out. N. O. W.” He growled, as he unbuckled my seat for me, opened the truck door with one hand, and just about shoved me out.
I hit the ground, face down, back up and arched. It seems as though he was driving off, I was puking my guts out onto the ground.
I cried out loud, sobbing, yelling, crying.
I fell onto my side, clutching my stomach, feeling like I was dying. Though I wasn’t.
Before I knew it. He was there.
What a stalker.
He leaned down, and sat me up. Ripped a small piece of cloth from the bottom of his shirt, and wiped some blood on my face. Brian had cut my cheek.
He unzipped my jacket, and smiled
“With how thick this jacket is, you’re wound isn’t so bad”
I glared at him.
“What’s your problem?” I snapped through tears.
“I can’t help a girl who has just gotten stabbed?” He chuckled.
It took every fiber of my being to stand on my own, and begin to limp away.
“I don’t need any help. I don’t need your help. I’m perfectly fine. And anyways, what the hell are you doing following me around like that? Are you some sort of creeper?”
“I wanted to make sure you were okay. And you sure don’t look perfectly fine.”
“What do you care?”
“I’m a nice person.”
“Whatever.” I start walking down the road. Hitchhiking thumb up.
“At least let me give you a ride.” He suggested.
“At least tell me who the hell you are.”
“I’m Zad. I’m 19. I see you once every week. And I want to get to know you.”
“Who said I want to get to know you back? And, Zad? Were your parents high when they named you?”
“Well what’s your name?”
“None of your business!” I yell. But at that moment, I felt incredibly light headed. Next thing I knew, I was heading for the ground, and then I blacked out.
Different shades of blue greet my eyes as they open. Where was I? A trailer? Yeah. A large trailer. Walls blue, carpet blue, furniture blue. All different shades. I fell back, when I tried to sit up. I yelped at the pain in my stomach, from puking so much, and from being stabbed. Though all of that seemed like a dream.
Just then, Zad came around the corner, coming from the kitchen.
“Well, look who’s up.” He came over to me.
“Stay the hell away from me.” I grabbed a pillow behind my head and threw it at him.
“Take it easy there tiger.” He held his hands up.
“Where the hell am I?”
“My trailer.”
“Bring me home.”
“It’s not like I’m going to rape you, you know.”
“Bring me home.”
“Is this how you thank a person who possibly saved your life? If it weren’t for me, you’d be passed out on the street, and bleeding out.”
“My wound wasn’t that bad.”
“Either way.” He shrugged, picking up a glass of water.
“Here,” He handed it out to me. “From vomiting so much, you’re probably dehydrated.”
“I’m fine.”
“Whatever you say.” He sat it down on the table next to the couch I was laying on.
As soon as he went back to the kitchen, I gulped down every last bit of the water he left.
He came back with a bag of chips.
“Hungry?” He asked.
“No.”
“Suit yourself.” He said, setting them down, and outstretching his hands to me.
“C’mon, I’ll help you sit up. This is the only couch in this room, and I want to watch a movie.”
I grabbed onto his hands, and he tried to pull me up. It hurt very badly. But I eventually was pulled into a sitting position, as he plopped himself down next to me, and grabbed the remote.
“Hey, he barely stabbed me, why does it hurt this much?”
“You got dirt in it.”
“How? I was wearing a jacket.” I looked down, to notice my jacket was gone. “And what the hell did you do with my jacket?”
“When you came flying out of that truck, it kicked up some dirt and dust. It was bound to get to the wound. And it’s in the washer, there was vomit and blood all over it. I also cleaned out your stab wound a little too, I bandaged up your stomach.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I kinda did. It would’ve gotten infected.”
“Blah blah blah.”
We sat there, he watched tv, a show I had never heard of before. And I sat curled up, and rested my head on my knees.
“How long have I been out of it?” I ask
“Uh, about 16 hours.”
I look up at him, “16 hours?! Have I been here overnight?”
“Well yeah, I got you here about 5:30PM yesterday, and it’s almost 9:30AM now.”
I groaned and let my head sink back down onto my knees.
“Won’t your parents be.. Worried?”
“No.” I groan, “My boyfriend usually makes me stay with him over night.”
“Your parents allow that?”
“They don’t like it. Neither do I, but if I don’t stay with him he gets angry, or smacks me. So it’s taken a lot of begging to talk my parents into it. He’s destroyed my life.”
“How?”
“Aside from never being home, because of that my dad thinks I’ve screwed him dozens of times. When I haven’t at all. And don’t want to.” I pause, “I haven’t been at school for 3 and a half months, because he wants me to stay with him. So I’m like a drop out now. I have no more friends. I never see them, he won’t let me, and I’ve seen one or two friends at the store, but they only stare and walk away. I’ve lost a butt ton of weight, I used to weigh 130lbs. Now I weigh 97. And this is the most sleep I’ve gotten in the past 2 weeks.” I decide to just stop there.
“Do you have a job?”
“No. He won’t let me. I’m too scared to do anything, he’ll yell and hit me for the stupidest reasons.”
“Does he have a job?”
“No.”
“How do you guys pay for things?”
“His mom. If they don’t give him the money he wants, he yells. And she doesn’t like him yelling. His dad died shortly after he was born.” I raise my head some.
“Where do you stay, if you’re barely home?” He’s paying more attention to me than the tv now.
“Sometimes, I stay in his room and we share the bed. Or I sleep on the couch in his moms living room. But mainly, we stay in his car.”
“You sure do know how to pick them.” He sighs.
“Hey! I didn't know he was like this before he and I dated! I didn't ask for this!” I raise my voice.
He stays quiet for a few minutes. He’s facing the tv screen, but his eyes are down, staring at the floor. What is he thinking?
“So, when I drop you off, you want to be brought to… Your boyfriends?” He guesses.
“No. I want to stay away from him as long as possible. When I leave take me to my home. He won’t know if I’m home, or wandering the streets, Plus, I miss my parents, I miss my little sister. I haven’t seen them in 3 weeks.”
“How old is your sister?”
“Too you for you.” I chuckle. “She’s five. Her name is Ebony.”
“I've never had any siblings.”
“You’re lucky. If you’re around them all the time. But.. I guess because I barely see her, I miss her.” I trail off.
It’s silent for the next 5 minutes or so. He stands up. Extends his hand.
“C’mon, lets have a look at that wound.”
I grab hold of his hand, and he lowers himself down, putting my arm around neck. His left arm, around my waist, helping me keep my balance, and walk to the bathroom.
I think I can stand on my own and keep my balance, so he lets go of me. I’m startled at my reflection. My hair knotted up, dirt smudged on my face, a small cut on my cheek, bruises surrounded it. I examine my ear. It’s scabbed up, tiny bits of dried blood are on my neck. The now-destroyed piercing, was sore.
I tugged my shirt up, about 3 inches above my belly button, and managed to unhook the wrap that was around me.
Once uncovered I could see tiny grains of dust, sand, and dirt that hadn't washed off. There was a pretty decent sized scab to the left and about an inch above my belly button. Bruises also surrounding it, all different colors. Blue, green, yellow, purple. I’d say the blade had gone about 2 inches in. The slightest touch hurt badly.
“Yikes.” He leaned on the counter beside me.
“I used to be pretty.” I say, out of the blue.
“I dunno, you’re pretty cute all bruised up.” He laughs.
“Oh get real.” my face twitches.
I can feel tears swell up in my eyes, but I force them back, as he wraps the giant bandage back around my stomach.
“You hungry?”
I hadn't even noticed the emptiness in my stomach. I could almost hear it scream out of pain and starvation. I hadn't eaten in 3 days.
“Starving.” I try to keep my balance and walk at a steady pace out to the couch again.
He walks to the kitchen. And pulls out a box. In it is pizza. He brings it over.
“Is it okay cold?” he asks
“Yeah.” I grab a piece.
I ate 5 slices. He ate 2.
“When are you going home?”
“Tomorrow. I’m sleepy.”
“But you just slept for an eternity.”
“I don’t give a damn. I’m still tired. So I’m sleeping.” I groan. I’m not a happy person when I’m sleepy. Heck, I’m not a happy person at all.
“Okay.. But I’m going to wake you up around 3 or so. We can go find something to do. It’s boring here.”
“What if he’s out there?”
“We’ll just have to wait and see.” He leaves the pizza box on the table by the couch, just in case I get hungry again.
I plop down on my side, yelping at the jolt of pain through my stomach, though not as bad now, since it’s full of food. He threw the covers over me, and sat down on the floor in front of the couch. He was watching tv, and I was on my way to a dream.

The First Time (Written five years ago)

Trembling with fear, I lay there, frozen, paralyzed, too scared to move, in only my bra, and panties that Marlana bought for the occasion. That bitch. She knew I wasn’t ready, she knew I might get knocked up, but she didn’t give a damn about me, all she cared about was getting her money and getting what she wanted. It was like that for all of us. Lucky for the others, when they turned 18, they left, or got kicked out. Marlana didn’t like the thought of any prostitutes over 16 years old, 18 at the most. Girls were always doing the usual, getting the shit fucked out of them, luckily only one of us got knocked up. The guys were forced to help hold the girls down the first few times, holding their heads in place, to prevent damage, if the girl tossed her head too much trying to break free, and they were also ordered to cover the girls mouth, to prevent too loud of screams, unless the guys wanted a screamer… But usually that wasn’t until the girl had been fucked many, many times, to know that if she screamed for help, she would be beaten, or killed, and either no one would find the body, or her death was made to look like an accident..
At that time half of the group had gone off on their own. And I had started my period for the 14th time in my life, I always kept it a secret from her, so I could be spared a little longer, but she started noticing when Venom took a little more money than he was supposed to. He was supposed to get a meal for us, and that was it, but he snuck me pads, and she found out. She allows a girl to have her period four times before they’re put into prostitution. Anytime before that, they were either forced to watch, by another one of the guys holding them in place, or else they would do her dirty work. I always had to work for her, I didn’t know anything about how it would feel ,or the fear, or pain. But I soon found out.
The man stripped down, Venom was the one to hold me down, he offered to, and he knew I would scream, so he covered my mouth, and held my head with a tight grip.
The man was in his mid 40’s. His name was unknown, only Marlana knew her customers real names. Although, he liked to be call thrasher.. Take a guess at why that is. The bastard.
He was tall, and had a beer belly, he had a beard starting to grow, and his hair was slicked back with gel. He walked over to the tiny kid bed where I lay, and he leaned over me, and smiled.
“You ready to meet thrasher?” He laughed.
“Don’t taunt her, just get this over with.” Venom replied.
“It’s hard not to… She’s just soooo pretty.” He smiled, touching my cheek and brushing back one of my brunette curls. At that moment I shrieked into the palm of Venom’s hand.
“Oh, a screamer..” He almost growled.
“just get it over with!” Venom almost shouted.
Then there was silence.
Thunder cracked, above us, the clouds turned the sky black. It was early in the evening, this was thrasher’s alley this week. He’s always moving around, just incase the cops found him. He’s got a record. No one messed with him, he would chew them up for dinner in a heartbeat. And there just happened to be an old kid bed, that was low to the ground and lumpy with springs that someone had thrown out.
He touched both of my legs, near the ankle, and I kicked, only to see smudges of dirt on the skin. His hands were filthy. Talk about gross.
When I was little, I always thought that my first time having sex would be perfect, and romantic, and I’d have a husband that loved me, and parents who loved me, and a little sister who loved me. I thought I wanted to have kids, and love them. I thought I would be successful, and just have the perfect life that everyone would envy. Now, I denied the existence of love. There was no such thing. And if there was, god surely forgot to tell me when he shoved me into this fucked up life. If he was even real. Now I was certain, I’d be fucked, and screwed until I’m 18, then shoved out on the streets on my own, be lucky if I don’t get knocked up, and either go to my parents and explain what’s happened all these years, and then get tracked down and killed for it, or live on the streets and try to find a job. No one will want me. And then I’ll just get raped again by a guy who offers me a ride, or some homeless man on the streets.
He had a firm grip on my legs now, it was almost impossible for me to move them. He parted them, he placed his head over my waist, grabbed the lining of the fancy pink panties and begun to pull them down. I muffled more screams. I was scared out of my mind. I wanted to go away, forever. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth, screaming over and over again. Venom had a tough time holding my head in place. This wasn’t the first time he’d had to hold down a girl, or see her exposed, in fact he was quite used to it. But he’d never seen me exposed. Which changed everything. He just closed his eyes. Which I respected, but I wanted him to get me the hell out of here, but unfortunately, parked at the front of the alley, was Marlana, in the old van that we lived in, waiting. Waiting for me to come back, get in, and prepare myself to go sweet talk some rich men out of their money. And she’d wait for Thrasher (The bastard) to hand her over 30 golden bucks. Since I was a virgin, my price was low, but that would increase the more times I had sex, and how good I was. I don’t see how they could say I was good or not, all you do is lay there while you’re stabbed with a giant stick like thing in your no no spot, as a kid would say.
It was one low grunt from him, one thrust, and all hell broke loose. I screamed, thrashed about, pulled on the bastards hair.
“You don’t know how good that feels..” He breathed out, making me let go instantly, and clutch onto Venom’s arms just behind my head, I dug my nails into his skin, I felt him shake with me, my eyes still shut.
I felt one or two raindrops on my pale, flat, exposed stomach. I screamed bloody murder. I peeked my eyes open, to see that Venom still had his shut, he’s nice.
He thrusted again and again, making me scream and struggle more. His grunts disgusted me, I stopped screaming almost long enough for a chuckle to squeeze out of my sore throat, just because knowing that while he fucked a girl (maybe even a guy, if he’s that desperate, you just never know) he sounded like a starving pig being teased with a giant ham.
But at that moment, I felt something tear. A sudden rush of pain (much more pain then I was already in) ran over me, as I gasped into Venom’s hand (which had grown warm and wet due to my saliva and muffled screamed) and my eyes opened. Wide. My stomach sunk in, from the amount of air I was trying to take in, Tears welled in my eyes, and at that moment, Venom opened his eyes and looked down at me.
He looked in my eyes, and looked like he was about to cry, and mouthed the words “I’m sorry”.
I then watched his eyes travel down my body, his jaw dropped open, before he yelled,
“She’s bleeding! Stop!”
But he didn’t, he kept going. And I, I started screaming. I thought I was screaming bad enough before, right now it was like the devil was laughing at me, while burning me to death in fire.
“Didn’t you hear me?! Stop!” Venom yelled again.
“Let me hear her scream” The bastard laughed, a smirk on his face.
“What? No! I can’t do that, I don’t want to do that!” He yelled back.
I wanted to scream at him, to say “Let me go, and save me! Go all spider man and take me up the wall or something! Anything!”
“I don’t give a damn what you want! Let me hear her scream. Do as I say you shit head and let her scream!”
At that moment Venom removed his hand from my mouth. I took a giant breath. For one moment everything seemed to pause, and was silent. And all of a sudden things were at normal speed, as I let out a loud, Painful, sore, scratchy scream. And then, Venom’s hand was back in place. My nails dug deeper and deeper into his arms. His face filled with pain, both physical and emotional. My tears were streaming down my face and onto the lumpy old bed. And then, everything stopped. I was motionless, and lay gasping into his hand, and the bastard pulled his trousers and jeans back on, staying shirtless.
“thanks lad, for letting me hear her scream. She can really drive a man crazy.” He smiled.
Venom glared at him, growling softly, only loud enough so I could hear.
He didn’t say anything, or else the bastard would give Marlana less than what he was expected to pay. Bastard.
He begun to walk off to the end of the alley, when Venom let me go. I rolled onto my side, and curled into a ball, holding myself, and my head in his lap, and I sobbed through my gasps and tears.
He rubbed my head, and ran his fingers through my hair. Which usually calmed me down.
“You are so strong Short String.” He lulled to me. All I could do was sob, and gasp more.
He slowly got up, grabbed my clothes, and handed them to me. It took about 5 minutes before I moved. I slid on my shirt and my panties slowly, while Venom looked away, at the end of the alley, where Marlana yelled out loud,
“Where’s my money Jack?! You promised me 30 bucks! Hand it over!”
I felt emotionless.
“Venom..?” I managed to squeak, my voice was sore and scratchy as fuck.
“Yeah..?” He asked, keeping his look elsewhere.
“I need help..”
He looked over at me, and I had my jeans on up to my mid thigh.
“It hurts too much..” I sobbed.
He kneeled down in front of me, and while I gripped onto his shoulders (he was extremely tall, even knelt down) he pulled them up to my waist, where they belonged. It hurt, a lot. I could already feel the blood rushing through the fabric. I looked back at the bed, there was blood everywhere.
The bastard was walking back our way.
“Let’s go..” Venom growled.
“I can’t.. It hurts..” I whispered. My bangs falling back into place, just before my eyes.
He stood up, looking down at me, and placed his hand on my face.
“just to the car, you’ve managed to survive this, just a little more? I’ll help you.” He weekly smiled. His eyes were beautiful.
I placed my hand on his arm that was extended on my face. Only to look at my hand, red with blood.
I looked at both of his arms and saw the damage I caused, There was a lot of blood. A lot of it.
“I’m so sorry..” I sobbed.
“It’s fine, no harm done.” He comforted, as he put my arm around his neck (he had to lower himself a lot to do this) and put his arm around my waist, he helped me over to the car.
“great job little lady” The bastard winked at me.
Bastard.
As we got to the car, I hopped in, and that’s when I woke up.
I shot up in the backseat of the van, it was that dream again. I always dream of the first time.

Invisible (Written Four years ago)

Use your wings to fly away.

Lean in, embrace the separation.

Capture the moment

Because all too soon will it be snatched away.

No one will notice you’re gone.

You’re a nobody.

Invisible.

Who are you, even?

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 09.03.2013

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