A Past To Forget...A seven year old prostitute

picture perfect x

my chapter...meaning I WROTE IT (:

The low voice slithered towards my ears as I shuddered, I scrunched my eyes shut hoping that when I open them I would be aback in my room. I wasn't. I was shaking with uncontrollable fear; I could see the room shaking as I clench my hands into fist. I felt two equal weights on my shoulders holding me still.

"Hey gorgeous, there's nothing to be afraid of." I could feel Alex's hot sticky breath clinging onto my right ear as I tried to struggle out of his strong grasp. He swivelled me around and I could see his white teeth shining in the darkness, his eyes seem to sparkle in darkness as I shivered. His slowly ran his hands down my body feeling every single curve.

"Shhh, it's okay I'm not going to hurt you...If you co-operate." He said with a malicious smile as I tried to shake out of his grasp. I could feel his hands start travelling in between my legs and I didn't mean to but I did. I screamed. Loud and clear, my voice piercing the silence as it rung through the house, I could hear the door to my mum's room open. Alex looked quickly towards the toilet door then to me, he brought his fist down to my face as I stifled a cry out loud. Tears streamed down my face causing the bruises and cuts to sting.

"Alex, honey what's going on?" I heard my Mummy drawl slowly. Alex grabbed me by the wrist roughly and brought to the bottom of the stair to face mummy. He cleared his throat and winked at me while mummy rubbed her eyes awake.

"I was going to get a drink of water for you babe because you were coughing but when I got down here I saw little Monique here trying to run away. She opened the door and I tired to talk her out of it. I told her I wouldn't tell you but she just screamed." Alex started lying fluently as he watch my mum soak up every single detailed lie he told her. Anger flashed dangerously in her eyes as Alex nudged me forewords to my mummy. Her nails dug into my flesh as I started crying even harder. My whole face stung in unbearably pain as he nails continued to make their mark in my flesh. I could feel mummy raising her hand but I was surprised to not feel any pain slice into my face.

"She's not worth it, go up stairs honey and I'll lock her in the basement." Alex voice was smooth and confident, his words were candy coated and they seem to work a charm on my mum. She giggled as she muttered about how she'd be waiting for him while she ran up the stairs. As soon as mummy was out of sight Alex's charming smile faltered into a twisted smirk. His finger clasped themself around my hair as he dragged me. The seem to spread across my head like a contagious dieses as I tried not to scream.

"You're lucky this time, Princess but next time I promise I won't be so kind." He threatened as he slammed the door shut in my face. I was blindfolded by the darkness as I tried to feel the walls to fine a light switch. Slowly switching it on I saw that the light was too scared. It dimly lit up the room as it flickered in fear, taking my surrounding in I noticed the piles of books stacked on to one side. The dust fairies seem to dance upon the tables and books as I tried to swipe them away. I jumped in sheer terror as the book fell to the ground and it made a loud thud. I stood completely still as I heard my heartbeat thumping through my chest. I breathed a sigh of released when I heard no footsteps travelling evilly down the stairs. Slowly I picked up the book but not before noticing a bright pink box. Grabbing in cautiously I placed it on the table. The light kept flickering and there would be moment I would wait in darkness for a millisecond before they turned on again. I opened the box lid, excited. It was just like opening a birthday present except it wasn't my birthday. The box had letters in it. Tons and tons of letters, I started getting bored and it was hard to read the letters with the light going on and off. I was just about to close the lid when a Polaroid picture caught my eye. It was mummy. Her hair was gorgeously long, like a waterfall of gold. She was smiling her teeth showing and her eyes were filled with happiness and hope. I slowly looked down and saw a little girl. My heart stopped. Is this why Mummy didn't love me? Because I probably wasn't as pretty as this little girl, I felt my salty tears drip on my clothes as I soon noticed a guy in the picture. He had perfect black hair with stunning emerald eyes. He had a half smile that faltered on is lips nervously as he huddled in by the girl. I started taking the whole scene of the picture in and I realised it was the lucky little girls birthday... 3 bright candles shone upon the cake as she stared at it mesmerised by the dancing flame. Mummy was staring down at her with such love. The lights kept flickering making the beautiful image of mummy slowly start to disappear. I could here the light bulb sizzling and I knew the light was going to go off soon. I was just a bout to close my eyes so that when I counted to 10 and opened my eyes again. I would be greeted by the welcoming darkness but something caught my eye. Neatly scrawled down the bottom of the Polaroid picture were my mummy's delicate neat handwriting. The lights made it difficult to see but I kept trying, the light seem to stay alight for a little while longer, it gave me just enough time read those words.

My darling Monique just turned 3! And even though the light was now gone for good and all I could that was visible was the darkness that surrounded us. Even through all that I could still see the picture flashing before my eyes. That little girl was me; I bit my lip nervously finding it hard to believe that my mum was capable of looking at me with such love and care instead of disgust and hate. I wanted to know what I did to mummy that made her now hate me. What made me go from 'darling Monique' to the 'brat who's not grateful'? I felt the tears escape through my now closed eye lid and run away down my cheeks and onto my top. I tired to imagine what it would have been like for Mummy to love me that much and soon I started to feel a warm sensation fill my empty body as I drifted of into a dream where my mummy did love me. A place where my mummy openly gave me hugs and kissed me on the cheeks and told me that she loved me more then I loved her. But even as I fell heavily into my dreamland I could still feel a tiny part of myself telling me that none of this would ever happen, that I should stop lying to myself. Mummy would never love me. But its not the fact that mummy doesn't give me hugs or kisses that hurts. Its not even the fact that mummy never packs me lunches or comes to my school plays.Those arent the things that make me feel unhappy and alone, no it's not. What hurts the most is the way my mummy looks at me. I can see anger swirl through those perfect starlit eyes as she stares at me and cuss about how I've turned out. That's the bit that hurts the most. That's the bit that makes me cry every single time. It's the fact that I will never be good enough for mummy to love me unconditionally. I will never be good enough for her or anyone else...