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Story part IV

posted 1/30/2007 6:44:46 PM |
1 kudogive kudos what's this?
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tagged: story

A car drove by slowly on the lonely street. The road was one way and soon the break lights flashed as the car pulled into reverse. Because of the wetness the breaks lights looked like blooming flowers. Amy shouldn’t have been surprised it was amazing what johns would pick up. She looked like shit she knew. Her makeup was undoubtedly smeared by the drizzle and then by the crying jag. Her hair was frizzled and flat. It never seemed to matter though. If that motherfucker wants anything but a blow job he can fuck himself Amy thought.
The john that’s the way she saw them all, just the john she never tried to remember faces or names. They were all just one anonymous blob to her. “What you looking for baby?” Amy asked. Her nerves were a wreck and she couldn’t quite find a position she liked and so moved and jigged in all directions. The john replied. “Sure baby I got that if you got twenty.” Amy replied. The john nodded and the door opened. “Look baby I got somewhere I need to be, so just pull over into that ally and behind those buildings ok?” The car started to roll Amy took the money shoving it into her purse. The dude was big, fat, and disgusting. A large ketchup stain clung to his t-shirt just below were his heart would be. Under the armpits where what used to be white was now stained a dingy yellow. He smelled like rank foot odor, sour and somehow even more wretched sickly sweet. The air from his breath reeked of alcohol and halitosis. It was pungent and seemed almost visible. The john unzipped exposing himself smiling with a big dumb grin on his face. Amy retreated into memory allowing her body to take over.
It was not hard to figure how she ended up like this. Her grandma had died when she was almost ten. Her mother who she knew little about and had seen only rarely when she lived with her grandma took custody of her. Life between nine closer ten and eleven was difficult. Her mother was nothing like her grandma. She was gone most of the time and when she was home she was always high on something or other. Food and clothing were scarce. The only candles she remembered seeing were used to cook heroin or rock up coke. The jacket that she had been wearing at eleven was the same jacket she had been wearing when she was eight with her grandma, it had been old and faded and barely fit. It most likely only fit because Amy was so skinny and boney. Other times when her mother was home she would be with strange men some that would hit and beat her mom. Sometimes she could hear the noises and the screams so she would hide in the closet of her dingy little room were it was dark and safe. She had liked to curled up in a little ball holding her grandma‘s picture. If her mother was in a bad mood which seemed to be most times it was Amy who got beaten. Amy’s mother had been very paranoid and was always accusing Amy of doing things. One time Amy remembered her mother hiding money under the sofa right where the left cushion was. There was a whole in the sofa and her mother would hide all kinds of things down there money, drugs, needles. Two days later she had came back to the house and gotten the money. She returned three days later looking for it. “Where is it you bitch, I know you took it.” her mother had screamed when she had nearly torn the sofa up. For the third time as hopelessness settled in, Amy had responded “Momma you came and got that money all ready I swear.” Tears as fat as Amazon rain had began to pour down Amy’s face. She was scared and confused. How could her mother not have know she took the money already? Her mother in a rage had started hitting Amy, yelling at her to give the money back. “I know you fucking little whore you put it in your room didn’t you or you bought some fucking new toy?” her mother had screamed and walked back to Amy’s room. Amy had followed eager to show her mother she did not have the money. In full fury her mother had started ripping apart the room. In a flash her bed had been destroyed, the mattress and the sheets were scattered everywhere. Next had come her dresser, Amy’s mother had pulled out one drawer so hard it flew across the room hitting the wall leaving an indention. Amy’s meager clothing had been strewn all over the place. But, it was what was on top of the dresser that had worried Amy the most and her mother went strait for it. It was her only picture of her grandma her last link to the life she once knew. Her mother had grabbed is shattering the frame against the wall. Glass and bits and pieces of the frame had exploded landing everywhere. “Mother no!” Amy had shouted running to save her memento. Perhaps if she had kept quiet and not let her mom know the importance of the picture it might have been spared. After yelling a light had flashed in her mothers eyes a terrible light. With a look like a black hearted witch she had taken the unprotected picture and began to rip it into small pieces. Amy remembered a sharp stabbing pain in her foot as she stepped on one of the shards of glass. Little trails of blood had began to mark the carpet as she ran to save the picture. The pain of seeing her grandma’s image being destroyed was beyond measure. At the end of her bloody fruitless trip she was rewarded with confetti as her mother tossed down the ripped and torn pieces of her grandmother. Amy had collapsed to the floor trying to collect the pieces. “She’s dead so what the fuck do you care?” her mother had yelled down at her. Her mother having seemed to take delight in the misery she had caused left Amy bruised, bloody, and weeping. Yeah, Amy thought the years between nine almost ten and eleven were difficulty indeed. Maybe if that was all that had happened Amy might have escaped the life.
The fat man began to moan loudly and pushed down on Amy’s head. She knew it would not be much longer tell he was done. She slipped back down into thought escaping the nasty task at hand. The time between eleven and almost twelve and thirteen was horrifying. One night when Amy was just a month and half from being twelve she remembered her mom coming in late at night. She had been gone three days prior to that. Amy had been scared right away. Her mother didn’t look good and the fact she was trying to be nice scared Amy all the more. She wished she could have been in the closet safely hiding. “Mommy needs you to do something for her ok baby?” her mother had asked in a silent pleading type of voice. Amy‘s heart had began to beat fast, her mother had never been nice when asking her to do something. Amy was afraid and had looked past her mother so she would not have to deal with the object of her fear directly. In the doorway partly hidden in the hall by the shadows was man. Her mind had started to think why was mommy and that man in her bedroom. Her mom had continued “It wont hurt bad and once it’s all done mommies going to give you something that will make you feel all better mommy promises.” Who was that man in the shadows her mind had scre

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Jan 30 @ 7:39PM  
I'm actually physically sick. ... ... Great job so far.

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Story part IV