The money, drugs, and temptation - my life on the bad side

Breakin' out

As I finish up my last piece of sausage, I place my plate and fork into the dishwasher and step over onto the scale. Mama punishes us harshly if our weight rises over a 130 pounds, and though we do not know how she does it, if anyone weighs in after any meal with that weight she knows and forces the entire house to a weight check where we each step on the scale and shout out our number.

This is another time where humiliating glances can be cast, both for the unlucky girl who's weight Mama detected, or for other's who have slipped higher that the custom 110.

Today I weigh in at 103, which is where I have consistantly stood for the past four days after every meal. This is a good weight, though if I fell just four pounds down then I would be ridiculed by the girls as frail and had it pointed out that "no man would pay for a beanpole." Then I would be punished by Mama, sometimes force-fed until one cannot eat any more and forced to throw it all back up, beaten or, when she is in an especially bitter mood, given a good proding with a scalding hot rod where it hurts the most. 

Cocoa told me after the former had happened once near the beginning of my time that she does not want us falling below the line of amaciated because we have to represent "beautiful women" in the eyes of our clients, and a girl with bones too promiment does not do that. 

We are such bitches, I think to myself as I warily leave the other girls to finish and weigh in to go watch the game show currently on the telly. I slide into our customary spot - a large armchair which Trina and Cocoa earned for our room a half a year ago - and look over at Sarra. She sits in the highest spot possible, alone in the overstuffed chair directly in front of the television. No one has managed to take the spot from her for as long as Cocoa can remember, though there are some who have come close.

She is watching the show intensely, leaning forward in her seat though there isn't really anything happening at the moment. I wish I could tell her that plan, But Trina says that with her sickness she has developed, she is bound to run and tell Mama. 

The thought of the Plan brings new excitement to my heart, making it race and flutter against my ribs. It seems so simple, but simple is good, and so long as we get out I do not care if it is as easy as walking out the door. 

Suddenly a voice rips me from my thoughts, one which sends chills down my spine, and replaces the lightness of excited with a hard brick in my gut.

"Tiger will do me well, I think," says the menicing voice of Dan from the entryway. 

I know it is an honour to be picked from the sittingroom, and it would add status to our room if we were staying past the evening, but I also know that Dan does this purposely because of the first time I attacked him and he knows that it causes me great displeasure, therefore making it nearly impossible to block it out as I do with all the other men. He has been here numerous times since I have come, and each time he seems to make his attack more brutal on my poor body. 

Cocoa is suddenly standing behind me, squeezing my shoulders and urging me forward. I can feel in her hands she is angry, as we share no secrets in our small bedroom and it is very common to walk in when one is with a client, and she knows how this one treats me. But after one session with him she just reminded me to keep myself as she taught, and know that it will eventually be over. 

So I slink from my chair with the greedy, jealous eyes of many girls following my every move, put my arms around Dan's waist and lead him up to my room. I hear as I walk out snickers of girls saying cruel things about me.

"She's not even that pretty. " "I hear she still cries." "After this long?" "Mhmm." "What a baby. She hardly is big enough to be called a woman anyway." "I think she's a bitch. She knocked into me on purpose yesterday."