"It's Too cold outside
For angels to fly
Now an angel will die
covered in white
with closed eyes and hoping for a better life."
-Ed Sheeran
Little Lady
Massie drew in a shaky breath and stared at her reflection. Her lips, pale and cracked, were crusty with dry blood. Amber eyes, broken and scarred, were sunken in. A red mark traced her cheek from a very hard slap. She put her hair up in a messy ponytail, immediately realizing her mistake. Lining her neck were several little red scars and purplish yellow bruises from her beatings. When she looked down at her torso and legs, she could see her knobby bones and more scars. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, searing pain following. She hated crying and her skin was too raw to sustain the slight touch of salty water.
Tearing her eyes around from the dingy mirror, Massie turned to glance over her room. Or rather, her moldy closet. The walls were an ugly yellow with black-green hues forming around every crevice and corner of the walls. A tiny, rotting mattress was tucked in the corner with one rock-hard pillow. "MASSIE!" she heard Pimp's voice holler from the upper floor. She never knew him as any other name. Just 'Pimp'.
Instead of answering, she rushed up the stairs and tumbled onto the main floor where he was waiting. "Took you long enough," he spat before taking a fistful of her hair and yanking her upwards. "Be a good girl and serve your customer well."
She tried to nod, but he held on too tight. "Bitch, answer me! Are you going to serve this young man well?" he shouted.
"Yes sir." she confirms with a quivering lip. She didn't bother looking over to who he pointed at. Did it matter? They were all the same.
Carelessly tossing her into the other man, Pimp walked away.
.
(This isn't just 'sex for pay', this is rape. And if you don't end it soon-someone else will)
for good
.
Stuffy air filled her lungs. She woke up in a dumpster, stripped and beaten. Left to die among trash-after all, that's what she was. Or at least that's what Pimp told her she was. After digging through the garbage for ratty pieces of clothing, Massie ducked behind the dumpster to avoid being seen. As soon as she finished covering herself, she felt a tap on the shoulder. Jumping, startled, she turned to face the person.
"Hi, I'm Detective Derrick Harrington." he offered her a hand. "Who are you?"
Massie backed away from the hand, staring at it with terror. "I won't hurt you," he assured her calmly, flipping his shiny dirty-blonde hair out of his eyes. "I'm here to help you."
The dark clouds hung above them, casting a gloomy shadow over the alleyway. Sobs came automatically as she fell to her knees, as if someone kicked her in the back of the legs. Dirt and grime stained her already black and blue skin. Massie felt Derrick lift her up into his arms as he carried her off to his car a few yards away. She was set in plush leather seats and she almost felt guilty for bringing in her own filth. "Where are you taking me?" she asked, crying lightly into her hands.
"Down to the hospital. You're hurt pretty bad."
"No!" she yelped, banging her head against the window until the glass was cracked and she bled. The blood trickled from her scalp and down her cheek. "no, no, no, no! I'm fine! Take me back!"
He pulled over and stared back at her with wide brown eyes. "Who did this to you?"
She looked down and gulped, her throat scratchy and dry. "I want to go," she muttered.
Looking at her with sad, sympathetic eyes; Derrick shook his head. If Massie hadn't been so dizzy, she might have thought it was cute. All she could think about though, was how much she wanted to leave that car. And the bitter taste on her tongue lingered, taunting her hunger. It was then that she realized that the tiny morsels of food she received weekly wouldn't be enough. "I'm trying to help you."
"I don't want help!" she shouted as she fought harder against the limitations of the door. Beating her hands against the handle until her knuckles were white. "I want to go home!"
Turning to her with those sad eyes again, he asks her, "Is that really your home?"
She shut him out, putting her hands over her ears and singing "lalalalalalala I can't hear you." Suddenly, she opened her eyes and glared at him. "Stop looking at me like that!"
Derrick said something, but she was too lightheaded to listen. In a matter of seconds, she was passed out in the back seat of his Mercedes.
.
(the starvation, it's killing you but you can't tell them. They can't know what happens.)
no one can know
.
A bright light shined into her eyes. It was shimmery, unworldly. Massie thought for sure she was dead. But then, it was pulled away from her vision and a face replaced it. They wore a blue little mask to cover their mouths, and a matching little cloth wrapped around the top of their head. A whip of cool air hit her ankles and she shuddered slightly (But she was already used to the cold). "W-where am I?" she stuttered.
"You're at the hospital sweetie." a perky voice replied, presumably from the person hovering above her. She wanted to cry out, she wanted to escape this hell hole, she wanted to do so many things but her bones were mush and her hunger was too strong. The deep growl grew louder, stronger. It ached her stomach to think of food though. She was too disgusted. Without saying another word, the nurse gripped her palms with warm, loving hands. "Come along now. Let's get you washed up in the bathroom."
The woman in blue robes led Massie down a long Hospital corridor. Windows lined the walls, light pouring through with a harsh glare. The musty white hospital gown Massie donned brushed against her ankles-her scars. Massie kept her head down. She didn't want anyone to recognize her. She didn't want anyone to notice her. Quicker than Massie realized, they arrived at the secluded bathroom. The first thing she saw was the mirror. Instantly backing away, Massie gripped the wall and slid down, not wanting to know. The nurse didn't find this a problem and simply gripped her shoulders and yanked her back up to her feet. What she saw disturbed her more than any other thing she's ever seen.
Her scars were beginning to heel. Leathery flesh was regaining its healthy moisture and glow (something she hasn't seen in herself for years). There were stitches across her hairline but they looked better than the gash it was replacing. The bruises on her neck were finally beginning to fade, and crusty scabs were covered up with bandages. No longer greasy or knotted, her wavy brown hair hung past her shoulders. Her lips were plump and shiny, moisturized.
.
(your life starts to turn around, and for once you're happy)
but it won't last, you know
.
"Miss, uh Block is it?" Derrick asked. She nods firmly. "I want you to tell me everything that happened last night."
Massie glanced over at the window. It was dark, full of shadows, and white snowflakes swirled around in the frosty air. Tiny stars dotted the sky, high, high up in the air somewhere. She was now wearing normal clothes; jeans, t-shirt, sweatshirt. Tears threatened to fall when she tried to think. "I-I don't know. I can't remember."
Sighing sharply, Derrick shifted his position and leered down at his paper. "What were you doing before your memory blanked."
Biting her lip to keep from bawling, Massie looked Derrick in the eye and answered, "Nothing."
"Miss Block, it would be helpful if you told us what you were doing so we can find out who did this to you-"
"I can't tell you, I'm sorry" she said, exasperated. "You don't understand, I could be murdered for this."
This time, he looked her in the eye and repeated what he said just that morning, "I won't let anyone hurt you."
.
(he was lying and he didn't know it)
it's too bad, really
.
Derrick weaved his fingers through hers as they approached the exit of the hospital. "Are you sure I shouldn't come with you?" he whispers into her ear, softly pushing a strand of hair out of her face.
Inhaling deeply, Massie nodded. "Yes. I'll be fine, I'm sure."
.
(the famous last words of a dead girl)
why so naive?
.
Fishing out the house key from under the mat, Massie was lowered on her knees. Just as she was gripping it, a hand rested on her head. Massie spun quickly, but not quick enough. The blade was already on her throat and she was too late to stop it. "You dirty little whore!" Pimp spat in her face. "Where the fuck have you been?"
She didn't say anything. When Pimp realized she wasn't going to answer (she didn't need to, he knew what it was), he instinctively snapped her neck and slit her throat for good measure.
He dragged her by the hair to his truck, her lifeless body occupying the back seat. When he felt the distance from his home was justifiable, he dumped her like garbage.
.
(that's what they always said she was)
doesn't make it true.
.