She should be crying right now. She knew that any normal person would be, in a situation like this. But, she never had been normal . This self-proclaimed statement only emphasized by her absence of tears.
The alleyway was cold. The stench punctured her senses - that horrendous damp smell that evolved from stagnant water, accompanied with the unmistakable odour of stale piss. It wasn't pleasant, by all means. In fact, it was barely tolerable. Yet Bella found comfort here; the dark, dodgy alley held no promises, kept up no facáde - it simply was. What you see is what you get.
Once upon a time, she would have scoffed at that statement. How shallow! she would have cried, and quickly launched into a cleverly thought out argument to counteract the phrase. But once upon a times are distant, too far out of reach - a thing of fairytales.
Now? Well now, Bella was proof of that very statement.
What anyone would have seen - if they dared to venture into the narrow space filled with neglect and despair - would have been exactly what Bella was.
A young, dark haired girl leaned against the brick. Her pale skin was illuminated by the faint overhead glow of the moon, and accentuated even more-so by her very little clothing. She wasn't very tall - or very short either, for that matter - but her high heeled boots gave her a boost that made her appear taller. She liked that - the extra height gave her confidence; made her feel taller not only physically, but also mentally - even if only for a short while. The black leather of her boots noticeably contrasted with the colour of her skin - her shapely legs as white and smooth as a fresh piece of paper, just waiting to be marked. Her short skirt covered the tops of her thighs, and the bottom hem of the low cut top brushed against her navel, showing the shockingly white sliver of skin between the two sets of clothing.
Bella wasn't proud of her appearance right now. Her body, her figure - well, she supposed she was what some might call attractive. She was a decent size - perhaps a bit on the slightly underweight end of the spectrum, due to her current circumstances - but overall decent. She had ample sized curves, breasts that would fit a mans palm quite snugly, legs that would look perfect wrapped around someone's waist. She supposed, once upon a time, she could have been quite the nice girlfriend - she had the looks, the personality, the promise. But there go the words again - once upon a time. So ironic and cruel that the words included in many fairytales caused so much misery in Bella's life.
Now however, the personality, the promise... had both slowly deteriorated over years of hard work and failure. She'd thought herself strong-willed, determined to succeed, able to overcome any obstacles along the way. However, no matter how strong you think you are, no matter how many times you pick yourself back up and dust yourself off after a rejection, slowly but surely, your armour gets chipped away at. Until eventually, your protective shell is nothing but dust on the floor, and you're left standing naked, vunerable and broken. Bella was the proof of this. She remembered she was proud of herself, in some distant part of her mind - for trying, and persevering, even when she felt she had nothing left. However, the danger of a situation like hers was, one day you wake up and realise that you don't have anything left. Her future, her dreams, her soul had been slowly falling away from her, until it was too late for self preservation.
All she had left was her body. She was an empty shell - absent of any emotions. She wasn't proud of her situation right now, but she could feel no shame, only indifference. Her conscience was telling her, whispering, that this was wrong, this was a bad place to be. But her desperation to survive pushed that insignifigant whisper away. This is what this was. Survival. She had to make money some how, keep feeding herself, keep a roof over her head. Shopkeepers and flat tennants didn't care where the money came from - as long as they received it, they were happy. Her customers didn't care about her body - as long as they receieved it, they were happy.
She should be crying right now.
But she couldn't. She had to survive, whatever the circumstances. So she pushed herself up from her slump against the cold alley wall, hitched her skirt just a little bit higher, stood with her shoulders back, and put on her best 'come-hither' look as she made her way towards the back entrance of the club, to advertise her services.
What you see is what you get, she reminded herself. She had to prove her worth to these men, prove that they'd be spending wisely if they chose to take her home for the night.
And as she waited, she laughed at what had become of her.
Bella Swan - the girl with so much promise, so much future.
Bella Swan - the prostitute.