"You want back in? You're gonna have to work for it Doll face."
It was another endless night, and she was leaned over in the passenger's window speaking in a sultry voice to the driver.
Never did she believe she'd sink this low. But that was the deal you made with the devil that coursed through your veins. An endless down spiral to the pits of Hell that await.
Joy didn't even question Isaiah's treatment. Once upon a time, she didn't believe he would make her do this. That she was special to him, she was different.
She was desperate, and to her this was punishment for leaving him. She deserved this much for turning her back on someone who's taken care of her. She truly did believe him when he told her this was for her own good. That this is the only way she'd earn his trust and feed her habit.
She crawled into the stranger's car, slamming the passenger's side door behind her. He drove off to a destination unknown to her. A place he could have easily tied her up and killed her. No one would miss her, right? He could fulfill his wildest desires and not one person would bat an eye. It would be bound to happen in this line of work.
Joy scanned her customer, his expensive suit, his sleek navy-blue jaguar with spotless black leather seats that stuck beneath her thighs, his neatly combed greying hair. A wedding band on his finger. Your average rich asshole, with a cookie cutter family it seemed. Probably some company owner, with a tennis playing, yoga, trophy wife, a pot smelling, problematic son, and daddy's perfect daughter, and the perfect house to go with them. He was tired of his doll house life and wanted an escape. That was her. She was brought to feed his guilty pleasures that his wife could not or would not.
She was his escape from his illusion.
No, he wouldn't kidnap her, or keep her prisoner in his basement. He wouldn't keep trash around the house because sooner or later she would begin to rot, and his family would sniff for the smell, where his purebred poodle, Max would be found chewing on her bones.
Joy hadn't realized it, but she was speaking to him, what she was saying, she wasn't sure. She heard her voice but didn't comprehend it.
The words that left her mouth were not her own.
She was on autopilot, while her mind was somewhere else.
He gave her a smile, one that looked painful. As if he were the tin man in the Wizard of Oz. Someone forgot to oil his lips because his firm smile never met his eyes. His mouth smirked stiff and awkward, much like the collar of his shirt.
He set the car in park, the tinted windows of his car melding with the dim street lamps, flickering occasionally. Joy had somewhat of an idea as to where they were, a pretty bad neighborhood from what she remembered. Trash clogged the gutters, groups of men were loud and obnoxious outside bodegas, a scarce laundromat with a drained mother, a young girl sitting on the beat-up benches while something played on the outdated television. Her mother watched the swirl of clothes in a hypnotic daze, while the young girl kicked her feet to and fro, engulfed in the picture. From what Joy could see, it was a music video. The women were dressed skimpy; neon colors, and tons of makeup filled the screen, but that wasn't what jumped out to either Joy or the young girl. They were watching the gyrating hips, and rapid movement of background dancers, completely engulfed.
Joy remembered being in her place, in that same laundromat, watching the music videos they always had on, while her mother sat indifferent. Too tired to function from the three jobs she worked. They always had the channel with music on, Joy bopping to the tunes, or sometimes mimicking the movements of the dancers.
The zipper of his pants brought her mouth to water on command, the thought turning her stomach, but as far as Joy was concerned, she wasn't here. She was in the laundromat beside that little girl and her mother. She was dancing to the thump of rap drumming through the speakers.
She was watching herself, waiting to be done with this fucking joke. She was in the backseat watching herself do the very thing she was tormented with growing up. Something that made her skin crawl. Joy was forced to look away from the gross scene of the grunting middle aged man and slobbering mess of a prostitute. She could see her younger self in the front seat, Sam in the other, his praise making bile burn her throat.
She could still feel it all, the grip on her hair, the nails on her scalp, the rancid taste in her mouth. There was no escape, but finally she could breathe, Joy straightening her body and licking the mess off her red lipstick smeared lips.
He paid her generously, before kicking his shameful desire to the curb. She stood there in a daze, hugging her fur jacket close to her body. His car screeched off, Joy staring around the dark streets.
It was then she realized she was in her old neighborhood.
Joy was dizzy, stumbling down the sidewalk. She was certain her makeup was streaming down her cheeks. What a cheap, good for nothing whore looked like. She didn't know where she was going, allowing her legs to take her somewhere. To her next customer, or home. She's had enough, three men before the prior using her to their fullest. She's been doing this for almost two weeks and she was already exhausted and emotionally drained. She cried at first, but Isaiah was giving her more coke than before, so now she just was zombified and cooperative all hours of the day.
The beep of a car horn made Joy jump, squinting against bright headlights.
"Hey! Get in!" Isaiah's voice barked from inside the car, Joy stalking over to the car and slumping in. Isaiah took one look at her, and Joy wished to shrink away; to hide from his scrutiny. "Jesus Christ you look like a fucking mess. Here," Isaiah tossed Joy a bone, Joy clumsily catching the little baggy filled with snow.
Joy dumped a small amount on the headboard and hadn't even bothered to cut up the larger parcels. She rolled up a hundred she earned, pressed a finger to one nostril and stuff the bill into another, sniffing harshly. The little buzz wasn't enough to relax her any more. Nothing seemed to drown out what pained her. She needed more.
Her head fell back against the seat of his car, her dulled hazel eyes gazing at the ceiling of the car.
"What'd you make?" Her limp hand fished into her dress, drawing out her earnings for Isaiah. He had said something else to her, but it was muffled, Joy rubbing her palm to her eye. A dull ache began to form in her head, Joy unable to function. She was so dependent on this stuff. She needed it to properly function.
"I'm talking to you, what the Hell is wrong with you?" He demanded, Joy swallowing and resting her head against the car window.
"I don't know." And that was all they said to one another. It was then she realized he got what he wanted. He didn't care for her, she could be dead, and he would just find a replacement. She always thought she was special to him. How fucking stupid was she?
She was a broken toy now, barely of use and only clinging to it because it was a favorite.
He dropped her off at their building, reassuring she was okay enough to go upstairs on her own. She told him she was fine, and he left her to be on her way.
She trudged up the stairs, meaning heavily on the railing as she made her way upstairs. She managed to get the key in the door, practically falling inside. She locked the door behind her, crawling to the couch where she sat motionless.
Her heart was heavy in her chest, and it was always when she was alone that her demons spoke loudest. They screamed. No one cared about her. No one loved her. She should have been gone a long time ago.
"You're right. Not even your mother cared about you. How could anyone care about a whore? You're like the rest of em, no one will miss you. You're half dead, might as well finish the job."
Sam sat across from her, Joy unfazed by the realistic hallucination. He gave her this mocking grin while he spoke, tears welling in her eyes.
He was right. Who would miss her? She had no one. She hadn't even seen Tobias for weeks, but who could blame him? After what she did, she'd probably hated herself too. Sam ruined her a long time ago, and that was when she should've done it.
Joy took the remainder of the baggy, meant to be consumed in small amounts, and tapped her finger against it so that sprinkles of snow coated the table. She took a credit card from the crest of her chest, making seven neat white lines.
"'Atta girl. Go out with a bang." Joy just wanted it all to stop.
"Shut up," She muttered. She was too afraid to commit to death though surely it would've been better than this. She was just going to get high enough to shut everything out. Forget everything. As always.
Joy hunched over, snorting up one line. A faint buzz brought her eyes to roll back, but she still felt the dreadful feelings of disgust. Tears dripped from her eyes, doing another line.
And then a third, her nose began to bleed, but that didn't stop her. She switched to the other nasal cavity to abuse, snorting up more white powder. Her shoulders shook as she cried, mucus building up in her dripping nose, splatters of red stained the drugs, Joy sucking up another line. Her heart raced, and time stopped, her sadness melting away. She sat and glared at the faint apparition across from her. Her eyes were puffy, Joy wiping her upper lip of crimson.
Her muscles began to quake against her will, jerking often while she was blinded by explosive bliss. Much better. She bared her teeth at Sam, her head bobbing while she tried to get words from her locked teeth.
"I ain't goin' nowhere, you hear me?" Joy slurred, but who was she fooling? It was going to happen eventually.
Joy attempted to stand up, and the moment she did, everything went black.
She was out cold.
** Hello Everyone! Long time no see, a half a year to be exact. Apologies to the readers of this series, but I'm getting back into this story. I have majority of the next chapter written, so that should be up sometime soon. In the time that I've neglected this story, I've been working on other projects, have been planning and plotting, I've gotten a new job, I've been working on my website (where you can now read snippets of my upcoming novels) and publishing "Bite Your Tongue Siren" on paperback, which is now available for purchase! Thank you all for sticking with the story, your support is greatly appreciated! Again if anything I write in regards to drug use, addiction, recovery, mental illness etc. is incorrect, don't hesitate to tell me. While I did extensive research, and do have some experience with the topics, there are still some things I may have portrayed incorrectly. See you all next update!**