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Pen Your Pride

Snow White and her seven sins

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Seated in front of a mirror framed in by light bulbs, she felt like an actress getting ready for a stage performance. Millions of adoring fans chanting her name. Pens ready. Pictures ready. Waiting for her to sign autographs. If only. If only this was not an allusion she had created in her mind to try and ease the melancholy that it enclosed. Saddend thoughts. No tears. Not anymore. Not even when she's alone. Funny that you think that: the smile tugged on her unpainted lips. She was never alone.

The light bulb framed mirror only had two bulbs that still burnt. One flickering. The room was darkly lit by a fluorencent light in the far corner. Crowded by people fighting to get in front of a mirror. All women. Some even still just girls. Too old to really know better, too young too care. Trying to prep before they solicit they're well-trained bodies to the sexually-depraved men in the club. All of these girls: beauties, well toned and darkly tanned with a large bottle with a nozzle. She was the main attraction, or so she was told. When the other girls weren't listening.

She gazed into the mirror with vehement rage. Pushed it down. Gave the girl that was staring back at her a little tortured smile. And then started destroying the ladies' natural being with make up.

"You're on in thirty-five,Snow" Sully announced from just outside the stage door with his droned announcement.

She grimaced and growled, "I know! So stop fucking interrupting me. Its hard getting anything done with all these leeches crowding my mirror. Beauty takes time."

 The kind of beauty the unshaven,drunken, horny men just behind the door wanted even more so. Make up. Boobs. Lingerie. They wanted to be aroused and pleasured. Entertained none the less. By woman who weren't their wives.

  She started. Plastering cover up onto her bruised face. Around her tired eyes. Covering the black circles they had due to the little sleep she got, it was like they were colored by a child whom had no practice. Nothing a little L'Oreal couldn't fix. After completion of the first layer she added a second, a third. She added a bit of glitter, swathed her eyelashes in mascara and smudged around her eyes with a coal colored pencil. she painted her lips with a scarlet and pouted at the lady in the mirror. She pouted back, then frowned. Then vaguely smiled.

 She wanted to recognize that woman in the mirror. wanted to recognize herself. wanted to hug her. but she knew the only thing she could tell her was, 'there's no one there for you, but you.' Wanted to assure her that tomorrow would be different, but it wouldn't. Tomorrow she would be seated in front of the same mirror, covering the same bruises with layers of cover up. Trying to comfort the same lady that couldn't cry. Didn't cry.

 Little lady, little lady,

don't you dare cry,

goddammit don't you cry.

"You're on in five" Sully droned again.

 She unbound her hair and let it loose. Ropes of golden hair, locked in with hairspray fell down onto her shoulder. She lifted out of the chair to her feet. Dropped her robe to the floor. Adorned her feet in a pair of heels. Made way to the stage door.

"Ready?" Sully enquired like he would before every show.

"What type of fucking question is that," she jokingly belittled him.

Her song equalized to a loud beat. She wiped off her frown with a plastered, pageant smile. One of the girls held open the door as she strutted onto the stage, her hips swaying and playing to the beat...... And she was on.

The club was packed full of cigarette breaths. The smell of cheap cologne hanging in the air. Men with strong alcoholic beverages gripped tightly in their palms. Dollars in the other. Waving around their Benjamin Franklin in the air. Trying to lure her their way. The spotlight was blinding her. The other girls that accompanied her on stage copying her provocative movements. Unhooking their bra's. Dropping their underwear.  flinging them at the men that chanted their names.

She left the stage and made way to her secluded room in the back of the club where one of the bosses "friends" would be awaiting her arrival. Waiting for her to give him the night he was paying for.

 She sat bound onto the armrest of the oak-chair. Her eyes shut tightly so she couldn't see. But she saw, saw a different time. When she was just a little girl clad in a polka-dotted frock with bowed up hair. a little girl that wished her daddy didn't care as much as he did. The way that he did. When he tied her to the chair in the living room with the ropes her mother bought from the store in the corner in the City of Angels.

The care that he showed when his hands climbed her inner thigh while her mother was in the room with another guy, making love and a bit of money for tomorrow. His fist caressing her face with blows that left her body quivering with pain, even a bit of unwanted pleasure. Leaving bruises, leaving scars.

"Open your eyes," Daddy would command.

"Open your eyes darling," one of the cigarette breathes requested, airing his gin scented breathe over her naked body as he tightened the ropes that bound her.

She opened her eyes and smiled at him with a warm smile and asked him alluringly to punish her for being disobedient. He swiped his rugged palm across her cheek. She felt the sting from the previous nights bruises that laid hidden beneath cover up and blush, push through.

"Again" she giggled. He hit her again before striping his shirt and forcing his bulge onto her face.

Undeniably he was experiencing vast amounts of pleasure. She accelerated her breathes arousing him even further. He unzipped his pants and stripped them too. Ejecting loud moans as he gave into her painful pleasure.  

She splattered handfuls of lukewarm water onto her face. trying to soak off her tears. wiped off the makeup with a paper towel. She gazed onto the mirror. The bruises on her face. The dark circles around her eyes. The scars on her cheek. Who was this woman? This woman with the nerve to stare her so bluntly in the eye as she tried to observe herself in the mirror. She didn't know her. Didn't want to know her. But she was beautiful. So very beautiful.

You're beautiful darling.

Now don't you cry,

goddammit don't you dare cry.

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