“Don’t you ever dare come back here,” I said standing up for myself, “I swear to
God-”



“God,” he said with such an evil tone, “you think God can help you?”

I’m left speechless, wondering, fearing, doubting God would even consider helping me after what (and who) I’ve done.



“I WILL be back, don’t you worry,” as he said this, chills ran up my spine, his words tickling the hairs on the back of my neck. His eyes piercing through mine, making me feel like the worthless being he said I was. He left, but I stood there looking at the light left on in the room. The red glow of the bulb makes the room look as if we ignited it with our fury. I stand there burning with the feel of his presence, his words still ringing in my ears, I can still feel his eyes looking at mine; mocking me. With the light on, I leave the room, to sadly return.

Sitting on the ice cold ground, nothing but a torn, dirty sheet covers my now dainty, fragile body. I run my hand down the side of my torso; feeling and counting each rib as my hand continues on. I try so hard to imagine the full curves I once had. My stomach so empty and now caved in, as if it too is trying to hide its self from this harsh reality. My back now permanently hunched over and bruised, I remember I had the best posture, and a back so toned, tanned, perfect; any backless garment would be a perfect match. My hair almost completely fallen out, as I run my fingers through the few strands I have left, I can almost feel the luscious curls that inhabited my hair. My eyes once so beautiful have also lost their color, showing how death doesn’t escape anything. The hollowness of my cheeks leaves me in disbelief, but allows me to realize the severity of the circumstances. Then my lips; now so chapped that no lip balm could possibly repair them. So dry, and parched, all water and life drained from them. I touch them, lick them, and I miss the plump, full lips I once had. I miss spoiling them every night by putting on every color of lip stick I owned; making my lips such a prominent aspect of my once beautiful face. It’s quite interesting really, I never found myself very attractive, however becoming aware of my new hideous features only make me wish I would have appreciated, and respected myself more. I remember my last day up there. How I wish I could go back and redo everything. I would change so much. But that night specifically was the worst. That night changed everything, and now it’s too late. Looking back, I should have seen this coming, I should have recognized the signs when they were presented, and literally placed right in front of me. Just that man, I didn’t want to believe the words he said. He came by my corner, quite frequently not interested in business but would tell me things, a freak I thought he was. “Let me in,” he would say. He’d place his hand on my chest, and then walk away. But one night, he did not come. Walking home I could feel someone following me, staring at me, their eyes almost mocking my motions. I start to run. My high heels getting stuck in the cobblestone road, I trip a few times. Inevitably, I fall, and whatever was following finally overcame me; I cannot move, I cannot scream for help. Everything was dark, and then everything was red, like fire, hot, mysterious, and frightening. As I slip in and out of consciousness, there’s an awful smell of burnt hair and skin; I can smell the fear in the air. The air is so thick and dense I can’t breathe. I lie there with my naked back to the floor, and my hands over my tearful eyes. When I am ready I remove my hands from over my eyes and there is the man who brought me here, who said he would return, who now greets me to the gates of hell.