My P.S. Boyfriend

~~~~~~~Her New. . .~~~~~~~ 

I cut deep in to the flesh, letting the blood run heavy down my elbow. Hissing with the pain that shot up my arm, the pain that made me feel alive, and not the walking dead corpse I truly was. I sat in the bath room watching as it flowed from my upper arm. Drip, drip . . .

“Rachel, get your ass out here now!” My bitch of a mother yell on the other side of the door, god I hated her with a passion, she was the devil of this hell I had to call life. She alone organized everything that happened in my life; just so she could keep the life style she was comfortable with.

  . . . Drip . . . 

Drip . . .

A burst of laughter escaped me then, trailer park trash is what they were, it’s all I had ever been called. So much so, that it wasn’t even an insult, just fact. 

 . . . Drip . . .

Drip . . .

“Get your ass out here know, or so help me god . . .” She knocked at the door making the thin walls shake. My gut cleansed as the pain eased, my throat tightened, as the pain no longer blocked out what I was about to do. I hated . . . I hated . . . until it was the only thing that I know was truly real, hatred was my only true friend, the only one I could tell anything and everything too.

. . . Drip . . . 

. . . Drip . . .

Getting to my feet I washed my hands in the sink, keeping my eyes away from the mirror as I patch myself up. Not ready to look myself in the mirror, and see the pretty face of a 15 year old whore. With green eyes and brown locks of hair, that fell to my back. I opened up the bathroom door, looking at the drunken she-devil with icy green eyes. Her hand shot out and grabbed at my hair, as she pushed my head against the wall; it wasn’t too painful, but it got me to look into her eyes. 

My hatred for her burns stronger, my mother had to blink, with what she saw in my eyes; but she shook it off when she spoke to me. “How many times do I have to tell you, don’t make them wait, they start getting spooked?” She said looking back down the hallway. “Ever since that damn ‘how to catch a predator’ it’s been harder and harder to find customers.”

Taking some weed out I leaned forward, so my mother could light it, I always need a joint to stop my jumpiness. As she started to light it, I got a look at the customer. Damn, it was my math teacher Mr. Garden; I always knew he looked too hard at me. With his receding hair line, and thick glasses, I believe he was a virgin.

As the high started to kick in, making me more relaxed and at ease, I walked over to him, with a light smile. “You ready?”

Smiling hard, Mr. Garden walked over to me.

~~~~~~~Hours Later~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re a little whore you know that right?”

“Yeah . . .” 

“No one, aint never goin love you,” She was slurring her words, the smell of wine on her breath making me sick to my stomach. 

I said nothing to that, I knew she was right, yet I didn’t want to say it out loud. I turned away from her, as I lay on my bed. My middle part in pain from what Mr. Garden had done to me, I hadn’t even had the strength to take a hot shower.

“You’re just a little bitch, and it’s your fault that my husband left . . .”

I held my tongue, as the need to tell her it was her own fault for sleeping with another man; but I knew that talking back to her would only start a fight, that I wasn’t up for right now.