Living The LifeMature


I zipped up my boot and got up off the cheap hotel bed. The cover shifted behind me causing my eyes to rest on the vile man lying beneath them on the bed. I saw his grummy, fat hands and repressed a disgusted shiver. He was out cold so I took that as my chance to leave. My heels clacked against the almost stone-like carpet as I grabbed my money out of the man’s wallet before leaving.

I swapped the money into my bag for fag and lit up as I walked towards the car. It wasn’t mine but my pimps, my boyfriends. The one who had given me a huge bruise on my thigh last night which the client had questioned about. I lied of course and said I fell down the stairs. Little old clumsy me. Not like it matter to the fatty any way. All he cared about was how much pleasure he could get from me. How many little fake moans he’d get falling from my lips? Not that he’d know they were fake. I aint so stupid I’d push the moans to beyond ridiculous. I wouldn’t get paid if I faked it.

Well, I might but some clients would knock the shit out of you if you even pulled a slightly disgusted face. The taste of the weed stuffed in the fag washed through me dulling the world around me. Yes, I did drugs. It made the world less shitty than it was and gave me a break away from the torment that life shoved into my path.

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I answered quickly after putting out my fag. I knew who it was and he didn’t like to wait. “I want you home” his grumpy voice snapped almost the moment the phone was to my ear.

“I’m getting in the car now” I replied unlocking the door and slipping into the driver’s seat. I pressed the phone into my shoulder and I grabbled with the keys to get the engine running.

“Good” he grunted. “And grabs some cans”

I tossed my phone into my bag once he’d hung up and put the car into reverse backing out of the parking pace then shifting to first before revving it out of the parking lot. The flashing three letters of the cheap hotel sign faded out behind me. I headed straight to the shop spending half of what I’d just earned on the cans for Marcus.

Marcus was my boyfriend. We’d met in high school when I moved with my mum and went to sixth form at this crappy school. I could of done better had I stayed with dad but mum had put up one hell of a bitch fight to keep me. I guess I could blame her for my shitty life but I won’t. It wasn’t her who fucked the receptionist.

Once I’d grabbed the cans from the corner shop I drove straight to the crummy flat I shared with my oh so loving, shit-head of a boyfriend. If he loved me he wouldn’t pimp me out but he does so I’ve come to find myself trapped. I have nowhere to go you see so it’s either staying with him or living on the streets. Either way I’d have to sell myself to get by and at least being with Marcus I don’t have to stand on the sidewalk.

I reached home and walked straight in kicking the door closed behind me. I dumped the cans on the side in the kitchen which was just a little corner of the open living area.

“I’m home” I called softly. Marcus walked out of the bedroom wearing nothing but a baggy pair of trousers. I let my eyes rest on him briefly. He wasn’t repulsive I’d give him that but my heart no longer skipped a beat when I saw him anymore and I didn’t constantly think how lucky I was to have such a smoking hot boyfriend. I couldn’t deny that Marcus was smoking hot, it was a fact not an opinion.

“How much?” he grunted holding out his hands.

I handed over the £15 and stalked off. “The cans were £10. The bugger lied about how much money he had” I tell him sitting on the sofa and unzipping my boots. Marcus sits next to me and trails a hand up my bare leg. I sit still and look at him, more waiting. Waiting to see whether was comes next is a punch or a kiss.

]He grabs my hips and drags me into his lap. “Next time get the money up front” he growls in my ear before punching me out of his lap. I falls to the floor smacking my head on the coffee table in the process. Marcus throws me my due and I walk off to the bathroom to shoot up. It was Marcus who got me on Heroin about 2 years back about a year after I started doing weed with his mates. A year after Marcus started pimping me to fuck his mates.

I had been only 17 the first time I had been made to lay in another’s bed. I was 19 now and trapped like a caged animal.

I lean against the bathroom sink and slowly slump to the floor closing my eyes. Closing the world out as a feeling of utter calm washes over me. I begin to think to that time. That first time, the beginning of what has become my very shitty life.

The End

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