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Short story

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A breath, a short gasping breath broke the unearthly silence. She awoke, startled, petrified of what was going to happen to her next. Had he gone? She was not to know. The impenetrable darkness mocked her unaccustomed eyes, making her feel more vulnerable then before, if that was possible. Her jaw was broken, allowing the blood to trickle ever-so steadily into her mouth, mingling with her saliva. Her clothes looked like they had been attacked by wild dogs, she found a repulsive comedy in that thought. Her body had been bruised and broken, excruciating welts covered her body like boils. It had happened all so fast, another potential customer had driven up to her as usual, not surprisingly accompanied with the stench of alcohol plaguing his decrepit car. He had been the same as all her customers, subdued and clothed in dark garments that obscured his face and body. He invited her to join him for the night and she, with all politeness, had accepted, that was her 'job' at least. They had then driven to a neon-lighted, hovel of a motel, how very original. From then on the events of the night became a blur until that deed had taken place, which had stripped Emma of her womanhood and innocent and which left her laying in that gutter, her soul fractured, her body and mind scarred deeper than any sword would have been able to inflict. ...read more.


Those days were gone now, her features were stark and harsh, no sparkle came to her eye, and her mind was only filled with oppression and cruelty. Emma then faintly heard her husband stir from his drunken coma. She decided to leave; it is an ugly site when Jean-Luc had been drinking. As she left the house she turned back and looked. Nothing pleasant tantalized her eye; broken windows, graffiti and debris, some of the many depressing things that she noticed. The ancient trees were dead or dying, withered skeletons of once flourishing, green giants. Emma shuddered and cast her eyes away from her the source of her grief. She started to run down the dirt, rocky road, pebbles and rocks scratching and slitting her nimble feet. Sweet, salty tears streamed down her face cleaning her dirty, bloody cheeks. Emma ran to her only safe haven, a small derelict apartment situated in the heart of town. The apartment was owned and occupied by another member of that demeaning service that she supplied. When she arrived, she was greeted warmly by her friend. She spent the rest of the day there, tending to her wounds, recovering and sleeping, a luxury that she often never had. Emma was ever grateful for her friend's kindness and loyalty and found herself becoming distraught when she realized that she had nothing to give in return. ...read more.


By the time they reached the door Emma was unsure of this arrangement, something felt eerily similar but she was unable to recognize it. As soon as they got into the room, the man threw her to the ground. Emma's head hit the ground hard, she started to protest but the man was on top of her, holding her down. She could not move, she flailed out to try to get the man to stop but he was too heavy for her weak and fragile body. She lashed out again cutting the man on the cheek, drawing a line a dark red blood. No sooner had this happened then Emma felt a strong, muscular hand grab her throat and tighten, the other came mercilessly down across her face leaving a stinging mark that brought Emma to tears. The man then continued with that horrific act. She felt her innocence slip, her vulnerability reached a point that would never be surpassed and at that point she noticed an unspeakable truth. The face of her attacker filled her vision, her mind was shocked into to nothing and as she took her last glimpse of her attacker she saw his expression. His face was petrified; he stopped all movement and starred at her in disbelief ad bewilderment. Jean-Luc's world crashed down around him, he did not believe what he had just committed. ?? ?? ?? ?? 1 ...read more.

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