"You have to let go, Francis. They aren't coming back."
"There never came, so how could they come back?"
"Darling, they loved you so much. But this is for the best."
"How would you know you never met them..."
Francis's Bedroom: November 2, 2012, 11:26 p.m.
Crawling into a huddle of blankets and tears, I nestled myself in the corner of my bedroom right under the windowsill. A million thoughts and memories filed into my head of the past and present. Greer left. And knowing her, she isn't ever coming back. In my life, well in most prostitutes lives, we aren't supposed to grow attached to others, but I did. She was the last thing semi-normal, sane in my life. And now, I had nothing.
I thought we both needed each other to survive. Turns out, I needed Greer more than anything, and to her, I was just someplace to keep warm.
The clock read, "11:26 p.m." and I knew I was supposed to be waltzing the streets right now. But I just couldn't bring myself to even moving an inch.
"Burn in hell, Greer." I muttered to myself, each vowel stinging my eyes a little bit more. I didn't mean any word I said, but I had to say it for my own good.
Francis's Bedroom: Novemeber 3, 2012, 7:32 a.m.
Eating a box of generic Cherrios in the morning watching cartoons, is probably the greatest feeling in the World. Even though, I never had an innocent childhood, I still know the meaning of simplicity. Spongebob Squarepants will never get old, because he never seems to age. But what about me Spongebob, I will eventually grow old, what will happen to me? I can't stay a prostitute forever, nor do I plan on it.
Getting up to pour myself some more milk, a commercial pops up with sound effects and blasting music. I ignore it while opening the door to the refrigerator and digging around inside. Humming and shaking my body to the rhythm of the song, I suddenly turn around.
Why on Earth was I doing that?! I think to myself. Turning back to the television, I see the camera focus on four welll dressed, clean-cut, smiley people on stage talking. Each one with their own smile and happiness. The two women in the middle of the line, are wearing what looks to be designer dresses and their hair is neatly done.
The two men on either end are bothing grinning excitedly, the one on the right seems the more proud. He is wearing jeans and a simple white t-shirt, but yet he dresses it up with his smile. No smile or laugh wrinkles, so obviously this man is hard to please.
" I know men of that sort." I say to myself, but pretending there is someone else in the room with me.
"We are excited to announce the X Factor Season Two! Join us tonight at..." The crowd goes wild, as these people are on stage grinning from ear-to-ear. If there were to be a camera on me, I would look like a five year old sitting a few inches away from the television memorised. There was only one thing on my mind. Singing.
Outside the X Factor Studio: November 5, 2012, 10:39 a.m.
"You can do this Francis. I believe in you. I know you can do this." I paced up and down the entry hallway, watching all the hopeful faces walk by. Each one had one thing in common, singing. Only a few of us would actually make the show, and only one would win. So why did I think I could win?
I put all my money together to buy a nice outfit and makeup. I went completely different that would I would usually wear, but this dress suited me. It was a black sequin 'homecoming' dress with cap sleeves at the top and a V-back. The dress emphasized my tiny waist and came up above my knees. I showed a good amount of skin, but what can you expect from me?
Fear and adrenaline set in on me, and I started to become nervous and shaky. I calmed myself down by rubbing my index finger and thumb together and clearing my mind. If my mind was clear, I would be able to hit the notes.
The auditions officially ended today, and I couldn't wait until the next season. I was tired of giving others what they wanted, it was time for me. It was my time to shine. A fit young man stopped me in the hallway causing me to trip over my heels.
"Are you a contestant?" He asked me helping me up.
"Yes, I am." I retorted and red from embarressment.
The man didn't seem to notice, "What's you name?"
I thought off a last name off the top of my head. "Uhh, my name is Francis Ryan." Real smooth Francis. Two boy names in one name, clever. You are so smart, they won't notice at all.
"Okay, Ms. Ryan. Let's go, follow me please. You signed in right?"
"Of course I signed in!" I smiled.
I didn't sign in.
Backstage: November 5, 2012, 12:15 p.m.
I have been waiting for hours and still nothing. No interviews, not even a simple 'hello'. Do I give off some vibe that says no one talk to me? Whatever, I sat on the floor and examined my pumps. The floor was smooth and cold, so I placed my sweaty palm on it. When I lifted my hand off, a sweat-filled palmprint was left.
I rubbed my eyes until they hurt, nervous about my future. What if this doesn't work out? What then?
Interupping my thoughts, "Francis Ryan! You're next." I whimpered a little, before standing up and smoothing out my dress. The producer handed me a microphone and smile telling me, "Good luck." I could tell he was trying to be nice, but after a long day of work, it was hard to be nice. I knew exactly how he felt.
I opened the door and my eyes automattically screamed at the darkness. I could hear the whispers and hum of the crowd outside and my hands started shaking furiously. A man came over to me and smiled, he had a microphone and camera behind him.
He asked for my name...
And that's where it started...
YOU ARE READING
$15 Dress, Million Dollar Attitude
Teen Fiction"It is all a game. Life. My whole life is a game to be played at night when the mistress wasn't home." Francis is nineteen and already has sold her body more then a five year-old can count. Her stomach-tingling lifestyle isn't one she planned on hav...
