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All created stories have to follow . We do not allow any sexually related material. The Doll Palace will be enforcing this rule and completely blocking access to the accounts that disregard our policy and create sexually oriented stories.
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Hi, my name is Sheeta
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 | Aborted [02: Phucked up] |
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 4.86 with 7 vote(s)
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| Created: 2009-06-29 13:13:41 |
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[02]
I walked slowly down the streets, my mind was numb or was it my body, I couldn't tell. The neighbors peaked from behind rumpled curtains, I could imagine the looks of disgust .
I walked, I fell, dirt mixed with congealed blood over my hands, fingers and arms. It was on the ground when Hell enraptured me, my entire body ached with pains I never knew could exist. My legs felt like they'd been hit over and over, turning them into warm jello slabs. My stomach, my poor bloated stomach, was empty; void of life.
I wanted to scream, I wanted to end all and just scream, let all my pain and agony out...just scream, but I had no strength.
Some how, through a miracle or pure luck, I managed to pull myself the half mile to the Park.
Everyone was there, like they always were. The low lifers, the losers, the growers, the addicts, the paid girls, the dealers, and the young children looking for an escape.
An escape, those were abundant around here, look in any pocket, in any back-pack, you were bound to find something.
It didn't take me long to find pills, one of our favorite, DEX. Take the right amount and you're chasing the skylines for hours, take too many and your over a toilet bowl puking your guts out.
I took fourteen big pills, one-by-one, gagging each time one slid down my throat. They taste utterly repulsive, possibly the most disgusting thing any-one's ever consumed. It seemed that everyone was already out of good smoke, they toked the chronic earlier. As for cigarettes, well someone always had one of those.
I needed money, I needed a harder substance and for that money sure comes in handy. Only a few hundred would be needed. A job or two, depending on what he wanted.
"Paige, do you have your makeup, I need to go out"
"Yeah babe," she answered gathering her purse in her arms "here... I just got new eyeliner"
"Thanks" I replied, my voice was dripping with warm rotten sweetness.
Purse in hand I walked down the grass trail to the bathroom.
My reflection troubled me. My body was gaunt and empty looking, my face was a mess. I looked horrible. Water washed away the traces of my dry tears, washed away the blood that found a new home deep in the creases of my skin.
I cleaned up faster than I thought I would, I needed to before those pills set in, once they did my world was going to be dancing at speeds that only an addict would be able to handle.
I straightened out my torn clothes, making sure to keep parts of my body open.
I'd always loved watching people watch me, their eyes ravishing my body up and down like hungry wolves. If only they were allowed to touch such sweet temptation, well now they were, for a fee of course.
Its not bad really...you'll learn to forgive yourself.
Is it worth it?
$3,600 a night sure helps, so what if you have to moan a little louder for the man who needs to adjust his hearing aid.
--
-Thirteen months earlier-
"We'll be back later. Bye!"
My cold hands wrapped around the doorknob, struggling to open it. Some idiot, probably my father, decided to put the doorknob on backwards...so the door was always a nuisance.
"Wait, what time?" My dad asked from the couch, his voice stopped my movements. My mom lay, like a pup next to its master, at his side. Both of their eyes nearly glowed red in the dim light.
"Um, I don't know, around three. We're going to lunch after the movie."
"Better not be lyin' to me girl, be back at two"
I turned completely around, my back to my father and walked away. "...Yeah dad" I muttered in a monotone voice. Why the hell was he here? I could only think of one thing, I'm sure you know what. My mother and father never got along, for as long as I could remember they were always bickering and bruising each other. My family in general is a issue larger than the rictor scale. But they both had cravings....a very nasty thought. Don't worry they aren't ugly parents, far from it, so if you'd like to imagine it go ahead. My mother is a short, curled blonde hair, pure crystal blue eyes with an almost perfect pixie figure except for the large scars from her bust appendix. My father looks like an old movie star, his body is nearly always tanned from hours watering his 'special crop'. His thick black hair is offset by slightly graying edges that give way to green eyes with brown flecks.
But how they annoyed me. Like most teens I loathed my parents, but I had reason to, they sheltered me, tortured me. Sheltered me from everything and anything, now... I was going to try it all.
I walked off the porch, the door shut behind me. A smile lit my entire face, I saw him...my goof, my love. He stands six foot four, a very lean body covered in tan skin, deep ebony hair gathered into dreadlocks. His attire was nothing out of the ordinary, or his at least; he walked barefoot, his shorts were too loose, it seemed he forgot his belt again and his green shirt had a few massive rips in it. None of which he remembers getting.
We walked side by side down the uneven, partially paved streets. Jeremy pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and without asking handed me one.
"Thanks" I bit into the butt of the cigarette, my teeth dug into the filter, pulling back I popped the filter out and spit it to the ground.
We walked down the back-roads to his trailer, his very messy trailer that I swore I would clean one day. His mother was no where in sight, turns out she fell asleep.
Now what do you expect two young, hormone driven, teenagers to do in their own trailer for empty hours... |
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