This is something i wrote based off of the song 'Little Lady' by Ed sheeran and mikill payne, this may hit you hard, this may not. Enjoy. x
It is my 13th birthday, but nobody notices. I am working late, his name is Larry, maybe Jerry. I never know these things. All i'm supposed to know is that i stay in his mercedes and do everything he wants. I don't like it. An hour later my job is done. If it's my job, is it considered rape? I don't know. I push the thoughts out of my head and go home. I can't think. I look at my face. My awful face. Hollowed out by heroin and stress. My jaw is swollen. He lashed out a few days ago, says I wasn't doing anything right. Oh well. I forget my clinic appointment, going to the Whittington would be better. It's a risk. They might question me, ask where I got the injuries. Tell them you got hit by a door. Hopefully i get paired with the same doctor that stiched my lip last year. He wouldn't remember my face. I leave, it's 30 degrees outside. I just think, what about my mother? My poor mother, I miss her the most. She was so brilliant. She wanted the best for me, a daughter with the right education. She still sends me money through MoneyGram, but he takes it all. She thought it would be a great idea, fly me to London to live with my uncle, get an education there. But she didn't know what he had in mind. I'm a prostitute, i'm a punching bag, and it's all because of him. My uncle.
I'm terrified. Utterly afriad of what might come next. The stupid nurse. The stupid stupid woman. She called the cops. She just had to stick her nose it. She will never know what she has done. I cannot speak. It is impossible. Facing a cop. I never thought it would happen. If he finds out, I'm done for. The cop won't leave me alone. He keeps saying "Who are you working for?" He thinks he can help, bring him to justice, lock him up. He can't. I don't speak. The cop gets flustered and scribbles a number on a card, he asks me to use it. To call him as soon as I can. I stuff it into my handbag and walk out. Shit. I've been there all day. I need to give him what I owe. I rush to his door, fumbling with the keys. Just before I open the door I feel the cool edge of the blade on my throat. "Where you been bitch, I wanna know" I swing the door open, we head inside. He is silent. Not yelling at me, asking where I was. He is pacing. He stops, turns and looks dead at me. The six inch blade he holds in his lowered fist glints in the sun. My short, miserable life flashes before my eyes. My bag slips through my fingers, everything spilling out when it hit the floor. His eyes move from the mess, to me, and then back to the mess. His face flashes with fear, and then anger. In a flush of his rage I no longer exist. I am dumped, lifeless, into a ditch on the side of the road. I was brutally taken from this Earth all because of the only card I got on my birthday.
