Light spilled out of the window as the first rooster crowed. Slowly I woke
up, rubbing my soft, wet eyes awake. I could tell I cried again last night.
Flakes of dried tears clung to my hands when I pulled them away. I tried to
get up, but the surges of pain stopped me. My hair stuck to the pillow
where the blood had dried. The dark color mixed with my already blazing red
hair. I loved that hair. It was the only thing on me that wasn't tainted by
the past. I sat up and yawned through parched lips. The stench of my breath
crawling to my nose made me gasp. Another smell beat it down in torments of
ruthless need. It was the sweet sour smell of milk. I looked down my
nightgown and found small wet pools of milk in front of my breasts. A baby
cried in my head and my breasts ached for attention. My hands grabbed the
soft satin sheets and I gasped. Once again, I could feel the blisters that
covered my hands in my youth. I pulled them back from the sheet and held
them in clenched fists. My hands started shaking as memories clouded my
mind. I tried to run, tried to hide, but they still came. After an
eternity, they stopped shaking, and I continued out of bed.
My feet pounded on the tile floor as I stood up. Shards of glass broke through the hardened skin of my feet. The pain returned to my head as I walked through the room. Clothes littered the floor. Dark stains covered most of them. Bandages lay on top of my dresser. I reached for one, but found none clean. Instead, my hand found the bottle of Advil lying in my jewelry box. No jewelry was in it. I had pawned them for the room, but I had kept the box. On the top of it was a small carving of a woman. In her hands was a small pink baby. It reminder her of her own baby; small brown curls covered its head; black beady eyes searched his mothers face. Tears leaked out of my eyes as I stared at the helpless baby in front of me. My mind cleared as the Advil took effect. I slowly fell to my knees. The tears fell out of my eyes in great waves. I couldn't control myself. My baby was gone.
I reached for the drawer in front of me, and pulled out a pair of panties. I carefully pulled my nightgown over my head and off my body. At first, it didn't want to leave. The dried stains on its front held it in place. When it did, I stood up and looked at the mirror in front of me. A beautiful face stared back. Blue eyes shined from the tears. My read hair was everywhere in a mass of tangled growth. My soft, dried, pink lips held a pout. My beauty didn't matter anymore. I pulled my hand down to my stomach to where they cut the baby out. There was a scar. I ran from my belly button down to my sex. Again, I felt the pain of the day. Pulling on the panties over my soft hairless legs, I covered most of the scar, but the pain remained.
I opened another drawer and drew out a short skirt. It was a bright pink, the same color I used when I was a cheerleader. I put it on and looked down at it. I could see the lines of my panties. Perfect. Next, I pulled out a bra. It wasn't the sports bras I wore a year ago. Those didn't fit anymore. It was a well worn bright red with holes pocking here and there from greedy clients. Again, Perfect. Next came my shirt. I wasn't patient with my job, and most clients weren't either. A small button on was all I needed. I buttoned it halfway, letting my red breast hand out. My uniform complete, I left my room, and stepped outside.
The streets were dark. Cars rushed back and forth on the streets. Blue vans lined Central Park. There were police vans, supposedly for surveillance, but I knew better. I picked my way down an alley to come out from a dark corner. Curious eyes followed me as I entered the park. Some shined with an inner flame. I knew what they wanted, and I invited it. I was there for the pleasure, and money. All I need was a couple thousand more, and I would have my baby back.
I walked up to one of the blue vans and leaned near the driver's window. Slowly it rolled down, and a small Sergeant stared at me. Casually I threw my head back and thrust my chest forward. His eyes were wide. Moving my hand to the handle to the handle of the sliding door, I slowly opened it. Once opened, I fell on my back leaving one of my legs sticking out. I gave out the invitation, and Sergeant closed the transaction, as the he made his way to me. This would be a profitable night.
My feet pounded on the tile floor as I stood up. Shards of glass broke through the hardened skin of my feet. The pain returned to my head as I walked through the room. Clothes littered the floor. Dark stains covered most of them. Bandages lay on top of my dresser. I reached for one, but found none clean. Instead, my hand found the bottle of Advil lying in my jewelry box. No jewelry was in it. I had pawned them for the room, but I had kept the box. On the top of it was a small carving of a woman. In her hands was a small pink baby. It reminder her of her own baby; small brown curls covered its head; black beady eyes searched his mothers face. Tears leaked out of my eyes as I stared at the helpless baby in front of me. My mind cleared as the Advil took effect. I slowly fell to my knees. The tears fell out of my eyes in great waves. I couldn't control myself. My baby was gone.
I reached for the drawer in front of me, and pulled out a pair of panties. I carefully pulled my nightgown over my head and off my body. At first, it didn't want to leave. The dried stains on its front held it in place. When it did, I stood up and looked at the mirror in front of me. A beautiful face stared back. Blue eyes shined from the tears. My read hair was everywhere in a mass of tangled growth. My soft, dried, pink lips held a pout. My beauty didn't matter anymore. I pulled my hand down to my stomach to where they cut the baby out. There was a scar. I ran from my belly button down to my sex. Again, I felt the pain of the day. Pulling on the panties over my soft hairless legs, I covered most of the scar, but the pain remained.
I opened another drawer and drew out a short skirt. It was a bright pink, the same color I used when I was a cheerleader. I put it on and looked down at it. I could see the lines of my panties. Perfect. Next, I pulled out a bra. It wasn't the sports bras I wore a year ago. Those didn't fit anymore. It was a well worn bright red with holes pocking here and there from greedy clients. Again, Perfect. Next came my shirt. I wasn't patient with my job, and most clients weren't either. A small button on was all I needed. I buttoned it halfway, letting my red breast hand out. My uniform complete, I left my room, and stepped outside.
The streets were dark. Cars rushed back and forth on the streets. Blue vans lined Central Park. There were police vans, supposedly for surveillance, but I knew better. I picked my way down an alley to come out from a dark corner. Curious eyes followed me as I entered the park. Some shined with an inner flame. I knew what they wanted, and I invited it. I was there for the pleasure, and money. All I need was a couple thousand more, and I would have my baby back.
I walked up to one of the blue vans and leaned near the driver's window. Slowly it rolled down, and a small Sergeant stared at me. Casually I threw my head back and thrust my chest forward. His eyes were wide. Moving my hand to the handle to the handle of the sliding door, I slowly opened it. Once opened, I fell on my back leaving one of my legs sticking out. I gave out the invitation, and Sergeant closed the transaction, as the he made his way to me. This would be a profitable night.