He took me to a dumpy apartment. Not his, that was obvious. In fact, I don't think anyone lived there. It was probably something he'd bullied out of a landlord as payback. Sitting smack dab in the middle of Stokely, I felt myself go numb against the anxiety I'd used to feel. All I could feel was sick. The tang of vomit lingered in my mouth and I could smell my hair and skin. I was detached from it all though, watching the blocks whiz by as Billy drove us into the neighborhood.

What did I have left? Nothing. And at the moment, I felt nothing. My fear had died. My hope had died. Both gone, along with the last person who had loved me. I missed Deb, craved to hear her voice. Pressing my forehead to the window, I let more hot tears roll down my cheeks. The glass was cool and the hum of the tires beneath my seat was soothing. I wanted to blend into the interior, disappear peacefully. I wanted to open my eyes, look over and see Deb behind that wheel. But the sound of moving leather and smell of smoke told me a different story. Without even looking, I could feel Billy beside me: his hands moving over the gear shift, the steering wheel, the whoosh of his breath as he exhaled from his nose.

He whipped the car in a sharp turn and my body hit the door. My eyes fluttered open and I heard Billy glance at me, gauging my reaction. I only shifted and continued to watch, the gray day moving by in smeared streaks.

When he pulled up to a dark, depressing building, I didn't even blink. I'd accepted my lack of choice. And I thought nothing of the place. It was old, practically falling apart. From the look of the exterior, there were probably only a couple of residents. The kind of tenants that wouldn't report screams in the middle of the night.

Billy parked in two spots, crossing the faded lines without a care in the world. He was the king after all, and he was flaunting that. To me. The girl he would hold prisoner until the day he was free to make me disappear. It would be this apartment complex, in three weeks. He'd come for me and my time would be up.

He stood from the car in a swift movement, and I did as expected, opening my door quietly and settling my feet on the pocked asphalt. My heels were painful at this point, digging into my Achilles tendons and throbbing to my toes. Gingerly I stood and followed, hurrying to keep pace with Billy. He didn't even check to see if I was close, he just strode through the lot and into the front door of the building.

The interior was muggy and smelled like mildew. My instinct was to take smaller breaths, hold a hand over my nose. But I was too busy keeping up. He was practically gliding through the halls, his long legs covering the distance four of mine could. I nearly collided into him when he stopped.

"Someone will be here soon." He growled, pulling a set of keys from his jacket. As he unlocked the door, I nodded and hugged my arms. The nausea bubbled in my stomach again and I swallowed, praying for it to pass. The need was ever present, making my skin damp and the hairs on my arms stand on end. It was pulling me apart, tearing me down as I attempted to remain quiet and unnoticeable. Billy finally looked my way as I placed a palm over my throat. His detachment was tangible, watching me like I was a picture on a wall.

"Ya try ta run, I'll make your life hell." I stepped into the open door and Billy made no move to follow. He stood in the hall, arms crossed in a defiant stance. There was nothing said about food, clothes, anything. Not that I expected hospitality at this point. "Don't make me go lookin' for ya." He added a second warning and a shiver shot up my back, ending in my throat. I swallowed, fighting off the vomit I knew would rise. Thankfully, that was all Billy had to say. He grabbed the doorknob and slammed the door in a flash, closing me inside, locking me away.

That's when I ran. I stumbled through the large, empty living space and weaved my way through a short hall. Banging on the doors with my palms, I searched for the bathroom, my throat burning with bile. The withdrawal had started and I was alone. When I found the tiny closet of a bathroom, I fell to my knees in front of the toilet, and I allowed myself to cry aloud as my body heaved with agony.


All my life, I've found comfort in the shower. As a kid, it was a place to hide and cleanse the physical destruction of my life. As I aged, it was just warm, comforting. It soothed my aches and it dulled my pains. And even though the tiny shower in my new prison was a pathetic stall, barely allowing me to raise my elbows, I never wanted to leave. I cried, pressed to the wall, the water beating my back in light pecks. When I was out of tears, I just coughed sobs. Even though I stayed until my fingers were painfully wrinkled from the water, I found no comfort in that shower. I was lost. Abandoned. Alone.

Well…at least I thought I was.

The thud of wood smashing broke me from my quiet lament and I nearly cracked my head on the tile. Standing quickly, I heard the door meet the wall and a figure appeared in the fogged plastic window of the shower. I shrieked.

"GET OUT!" I wrapped my arms around my breasts, worming into a corner as the door was ripped open. Standing there, staring unchecked at my bare body, was Billy's black friend. My face heated with anger and I let it go, protecting myself the only way I saw possible.

"ARE YOU FUCKIN' DEAF?" I yelled. His eyes found mine and he sniffed, as if debating whether or not I was worth a reply. Then he leaned back on the sink, crossing his arms.

"I ain't lettin' ya out of my sight." He growled. I motioned with a hand and let out a wheezy sigh. New tears sprung to my eyes.

"I'm just showerin'." He shrugged.

"I can see that." Again, he scanned me with greedy eyes, his gaze lingering the longest between my legs. The frustration mounted exponentially, as if a dam had been broken.

"WELL IM NOT PLANNIN ON PUTTING ON A SHOW." With a swift tug, I slammed the door closed. To my surprise, I heard a small laugh. It only made me angrier. "YOU CAN GET A STIFFY ON YOUR SIDE OF THE LOOKIN GLASS."

"Ya aint that hot, bitch." My mind was blind, raving like a lose animal. And I charged through the door without thinking. The water sprayed everywhere as I raised my fists. But he caught me with little effort. We only struggled for a second before he forced me to the toilet on my ass. Then his palm met my cheek in a harsh slap.

"JESUS!" He bellowed. But the fight was over. The rage was gone and I wailed, crying hysterically as he wiped his hands on his jeans. "Fuckin' crazy." He watched me and sighed a few times before he gripped my jaw in his hand and examined my face. When I looked up at him, he looked almost sorry as his eyes danced over my cheek. Then he released me, backing out of the bathroom.

"Get dressed. I'll be outside."


It took a while. My body was failing me, and fast. Nausea was combining with weakness. My back and legs were shaking as if I'd been bedridden for months, making it hard to move in the cramped space. But I managed to replace my tank and skirt, leaving my undergarments. It allowed me to breathe beneath the fabric.

When I emerged, he wasn't standing in the hall. It was almost disappointing. I'd wanted to keep him waiting. But a few steps towards the main room revealed he hadn't traveled far. There was a mattress in the middle of the floor. It hadn't been there upon my arrival, so I assumed he'd retrieved it from elsewhere in the building. Along with the mattress there was a flimsy card table and a couple of lawn chairs. Simple furniture for a quick move in. He was sitting in one of the chairs, smoking as he stared in my direction.

"How long ya been off?" He suddenly barked. I froze and frowned, unable to comprehend the question at any reasonable speed. Rolling his eyes, he rephrased. "When was your last fix?" I swallowed, counting the days slowly in my head. It dawned on me that only twenty-four hours ago, my mother had been alive and well.

"Two days." I muttered, subconsciously rubbing a hand over my elbow. He nodded and eyed me, then lurched from the chair taking a drag.

"Bag is bringin' some shit later." I frowned deeper in confusion. They were going to get me high?

"Why?" It was a reasonable question. It felt like a trap, either that or a lie.

"Gotta keep ya straight til the pigs are done wit ya." He answered with a shrug. "Can't have ya jonesin' in front of 'em." I was a liability and heroin was my babysitter. They were going to pump me up to keep me in line then drop me in a ditch. It was pathetic. I was going to leave this world with fresh tracks in my arm. And suddenly, I couldn't accept that.

"No." I whispered, hugging myself for support. He stopped sucking on a cigarette in mid-drag.

"What?" I shook my head, sniffing in an attempt to maintain my backbone.

"I'm done with that." He hissed smoke with a snarl and point at me.

"Like fuck ya are." In a long stride he flew at me and I cringed. "You're gonna fuckin' do what I fuckin' tell ya!"

"Not that." I whimpered, crying as he towered over me.

"Listen ta me, bitch! If I gotta stick the needle in ya arm myself, I'll fuckin' do it!" I reached deep inside myself and held onto the image of my body in a ditch. If I was meeting my maker, I was doing it with both eyes open.

"You'll have ta kill me." I whispered. That wasn't what he expected and his brows rose in surprise. Bending down to my level, he glared into my eyes.

"What?" He hissed. I swallowed, wetting my throat.

"Ya make me use, I'll make ya kill me." He didn't respond for a long time. We didn't break eye contact and I could see him thinking. His orders were easy to guess. Keep me contained and keep me unmarked. I was on loan until the cops were done with me, then it was fair game until my birthday. If I put up enough of a fight, my babysitter would be forced into action, violating his orders one way or the other. When he bared his teeth and snarled, I knew he'd made a decision.

"Fine. Get sick ya dumb bitch." Then he raised a finger, jutting it threateningly in my face. "But when you're pukin' and crappin' all over yourself, you'll wish you were dead."

And I knew it. One of the biggest reasons I'd kept myself fixed all this time, after the initial love of the high, was to escape the sickness. I'd seen the desperate junkies, huddled in the alleys when they had no money to feed their needs. I knew it could kill me. But I was willing to trade one death for another. When you've lost it all, the smallest decisions mean everything. And I wanted this, to leave life with some sort of lesson.

My eyes must have conveyed my determination, because his widened slightly. Maybe he was impressed with my stubbornness. Or maybe he was afraid of watching what was in store for me. Killing me with a bullet was quick and painless. But my misery would take days to end.

"Fine." He backed away, crossing the room to the table, on top of which sat a large brown bag. Rolling back the top, he dug into the sack, withdrawing his arm with his back facing me. Then he turned and tossed a white bundle to the mattress. A burger. My stomach wiggled with hunger and exhaustion. I hadn't eaten in days and I'd thrown up until I heaved dry, but my body was starving. It wanted that greasy burger just as badly as it wanted a fix.

"Eat that while ya still can." He muttered, sitting as he unwrapped a similar sandwich. Unlike Billy, he'd probably realized how thin I was, how dangerous it was to ignore that fact. If they wanted to deliver more than a corpse to the cops, someone would have to feed me. But it didn't matter much now. Any food would be in the toilet before long.

I sank to the old mattress and grabbed the burger with shaking fingers, fumbling with the crinkled paper. And I devoured it like a wild animal. His eyes were on me the whole time, I could practically feel his gaze burning my skin, but I didn't slow for a moment. Not until a painful weight was setting in my stomach and the wrapper was a wad in my hand. Then I gently placed it on the floor and hugged my legs to my chest.

Day two was almost over. As the sun drifted away, darkening the cloudy haze above into evening, I prepared myself for the biggest nightmare of my life.


These might be short, but that allows me to churn them out faster. ;) Thanks for reading! Love to Dancing-Pinky-Flower and my silent faithfuls. Expect another chapter soon. Already started. =)