men in the dark alleys. More importantly, I discovered how they made money doing it. It didn’t take long before I realized I could earn double because I was so young.
Youth is a commodity on the streets. I capitalized on my strengths, doubled down, and I survived.
I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help but sink into that desperate place, that futile state between wishing and hoping for a better life.
At twelve, my helplessness had been unbearable, and it took digging deep to find what I needed to survive. I had to learn how to dissociate my body from my mind. I found my strength then, but now?
Now, I don’t care enough to try.
That’s what’s going to kill me.
Apathy.
There is no hope. There are no fairy tales. I’m not the princess imprisoned in the tower. I’m simply tired of it all.
I’m nothing, and I will always be nothing.
Forest Summers and his damn Facility let me believe in a future where I mattered. Hook, line, and sinker, I fell hard and fast for that dream. Rescued from a life of sexual slavery, I believed the lies that I had been saved.
Little did I know fate would intervene. Is this what my life is worth? To go from one degradation to the next? That sliver of hope dangled in front of me, for what?
To tease and torment?
I hate how easily I fell for it.
“Get up.” The harsh tones of the monster watching me pull me from my catatonic state.
I could hide within my mind, but that does nothing to ease what comes next. This is a road I’ve navigated before. I know what I must do to survive. The only question is whether I have the strength to walk this vile road again.
Do you?
Hell, if I know. It’s the only answer I can give.
Weakness feeds the monsters and I refuse to give them what they want. If there’s one thing my previous life taught me, it is how to dig in deep and survive.
Shelly kicks me with the tip of his boot again. "I said, get up!"
Knowing that this is not the time to fight, I roll over and slowly press up from the floor. He kicks me again.
“I said, get up."
"I'm trying." I grit my teeth, knowing that tiny flare of defiance is something I’ll pay for later.
“I don't have all damn day." Shelly’s voice turns dangerously cold.
I slowly push my shaky body up from the unforgiving concrete and avoid looking at the bloodstain that most surely is mine. With my hands trembling and my arms shaking, I slowly rise to a sitting position. My legs curl behind me, and I stare into Shelly’s cold, unforgiving eyes. There’s no compassion there, only death and misery.
I want to shout, but I grit my teeth. This is not the time to fight.
He shoves me, pushing on my shoulder with his broad, meaty hand. The force of his shove knocks me back to the ground. Shelly spits on me and that steel-tip toe of his boot slams into my spine.
“I said, get up.”
Slowly, I rise and fight a wave of nausea as I shift back to a sitting position. Knowing this is a game for him, I grit my teeth and manage to get my feet beneath me. On wobbly knees, I rise.
I know men like him. I know what they like, and what they hate. I know what they need to feel like men. They need broken women who cower at their feet.
No problem, buddy. I’m an expert at groveling.
I've been serving assholes like him my entire life. Defiance only makes them bolder. I sink into myself, burying who I am, and begin the process of dissociating body from mind.
My chin tucks to my chest and my gaze settles on those boots I hate. I’d love to ram that steel-toed monstrosity up his ass.
My shoulders hunch and I portray myself as a meek, mild, and subdued female. It feeds their power complex and gives me time to get my shit together.
As for the seething hatred I feel for this man, I bury that shit down a deep, dark well. That’s not a mistake I can make. Not if I want to survive.
The only language these men understand is power and control. Who has it and who doesn’t.
If you haven’t been keeping up. They have it. I don’t.
"I'm sorry." The warble in my voice is not hard to fake.
I'm terrified. I don't know who these men are, and I don't know why they took