LAUREN'S POV
Almost done, baby girl.
Am I dead?
You awful fuck! Stop fighting it! Stop fighting ME!
God... How I wish I was.
This'll be easier if you just took it like a good girl...
I am not free.
Really, who is?
Freedom in itself is an illusion.
Although, that doesn't stop me from dreaming of it.
Drugs took my mommy. A broken heart broke my daddy, drowning him in liquor, burning him in acid.
Me and my brother were left alone at the ages of 8 and 7, me being the oldest.
Chicago, born and- sort of- raised.
Albeit, the city lights beautifully light up the city, it's the place of where we have no home, no family-
No hope.
I swore upon the God I believe damned my mother, that I would look after my baby brother. And I have.
My first double digit birthday was at a church.
Father Donaldvin gave an excellent speech. Cursed all the devils in the world and blessed all angels who were there.
They were blessed by a wicked man, for he was a devil himself.
To keep my brother from being malnourished, I sold my body for cash.
And well, Father Donaldvin was my first buyer.
This world has been tilted on it's axis by a cruel fate, certainly not gravity. To be inhabited by demons, and monsters, killers, and witches alike.
This world is doomed to wither and rot. And withering it is.
God... this room is spinning. I'm not so sure I can stand up any longer. There's a sharp, repetitive ache in my head... was I hit again? I don't remember.
Hungry eyes greedily look over my body.
Baby green... your eyes have always been so sweet to me, no matter my roughess...
I scowled without thinking. I sometimes was not able to hide what I thought of the men who defile me. Their words get reactions, and that angers them profusely. They look for a pretty looking, good girl, who does not bark nor bite at their cruel insanity. They want obedient. Unlucky for me, I'm much too reactive. I shoot one too many glares, and I start fights often. I'm troubled, so they say.
Troubled may I be, I can at the very least hold my sanity. And without fail, I puke after every session. I am much too revolted by it all.
This night is different though. This new man has been yelling at me continuously for the past half hour. I would not undress this time. I refused, and he disliked that.
My brother is waiting at the train station. I let him know we were leaving tonight. See, we're older now. I turned 18 last month, him, 17, 3 months ago. With all we have saved I am hoping we can get away from this dreadful reality.
We will. I have hope.
With the new man now preoccupied with undoing his belt, I bolted past, heading for the door.
Mierda. He tugs my hair, grabs my shoulders, and tosses me on the bed, pinning me down with all his weight. I can hear the deep, rich voice from the music playing in the background. This man has a taste for the 50s. It's eerie, hearing classic music while fighting off a man who wants nothing more than to plow your brains out.
He continues to take off his jeans while stilling me, holding me down. In my mind I see my brother's face, pleading me not to go this time. He said this night was not needed, we have much money already. I wanted to be sure, but now all I feel is the need to run. Run. Even in my drugged infused mind, that word pushes me forward.
Grabbing the hotels dim lamp, I smash it on the mans huge forehead upon him looking up. He crumples and cusses and curses. Pushing him off, I bolt again. I undo the latch on the door, and am out. The nightmare will be over.
I run as much as my lungs would allow before stopping to breathe. I look around to see where I am, and all I see are flashes of light- illuminating the dark around me.
There's a screech, a honking horn, and then nothing but black clouds and snow frosting over my vision as I realize I'm flat on my back. Blood leaks from my side and there's an immense pounding from my cranium.
Freedom is an illusion. As much as we may believe, there is no such thing in this world that means to be free.
Wait wait wait.
A flash of dark brown hair cascades around me, like a sheet covering my surroundings.
Alright, okay. You're going to have to trust me... I'm going to put a whole ton of pressure on your side. You'll either bleed more, or stop altogether. Let's pray for the second, yeah?
Flashing an anxious smile my way, her brown, doe like eyes quickly scan my face for confirmation. With a nod on my end, she tears a corner of her shirt, holds my left hand, and begins to count down.
3
She's pretty.
2
She's trying to help me...
1
An inhuman sound comes out of me, a cross between a gasp and groan, as blood gurgles out of my mouth and down the side of my face. My vision quickly recedes, my final thought being-
Prayers would not be such a tragic thing.
A/N:
Lauren's drugged so she hears and see's what's around her, but doesn't interpret it quite right. Therefore, all voices are italicized, and things are happening in quick, unexplainable motions. This'll change when the icky shit leaves her system.
~ Noni
