Cry Once More

I asked a question on 'yahooanswers' in the midst of my boredom. I asked them to give me a proverb or quote, and I wrote a short story on it. "You have eight options, and all end with you in a ditch."

I didn’t know what to do. I just sat there, staring at the grimy wall, hoping that someone, somewhere, would find me. I had no options. No family. No friends. Scratch that. I had “friends”. None that actually cared what happened to me, however. My life had gone out of control, and there I was. Alone, with no hope in the world.

Why had I listened to him? Did I really think anything would change? They all lied. Then again, I lied too. It was all just a show to earn a few extra dollars. They would all go home when we were finished, back to their wives and children, and think nothing of me. I was seen as the scum of the earth, and I knew it. I didn’t want to live that kind of life anymore, but was there to go back to? Again with the no-one-who-cares. With what I do, who wants to know me? I’m the kind of person they sing about in rap songs, and not in a good way. I’m that dirty w***e you think your husband is cheating on you with.

And nine out of ten times, he is.

I never thought my life would get any better. Never thought I would be living high, like those suburban men that come to see me. Yet... I never thought it would come down to this.

I had a few options, but I was afraid that all of them ended with me in a ditch somewhere. I could try to escape. I could beg. I could go along with it. But it would all end the same. I had seen what he can do.

So I just sat there and cried.

Let the tears come, I told myself.  It might be the last time they do.

I just wish I could have done everything different. It wouldn’t have had to come to this.

He opened the door, and I could feel my heart stop. My eyes widened, and I prepared for the end. He walked over to me.

“Please... I swear to God I won’t tell...”

“That’s the problem with you w****s. You would rather save your own skin, and let the others suffer while you escape. ‘Oh please! I won’t tell anyone! Just let me go!’ I hear it every goddamn day. Sometimes you have to face what you’ve done.”

“I know I’m a bad person. But no woman deserves this.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong.”

Now, all I can feel are the blows to my stomach. The rest of my body has gone numb. I can taste blood in my mouth, pouring down from my nose where I was thrust against the wall. He keeps kicking.

Again.

And again.

I can’t even feel them anymore. I know clearly I’ve broken something, just as clearly as I can feel my heart breaking, my soul throbbing for an end.

The tears won’t even come now. Good thing I cried before, because that really was the last time I felt them run down my face, taste them on my lips. And I would give anything to feel them one more time.

Reviews

[victoria]

wow, this was really powerful. i liked how the narrator questioned herself so much, it added to the confusion of the whole thing. it made me wonder what the character did wrong. i really liked it :)