The Sun Goes Down, and So Does She
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She smiled at the man, thanking him softly as he handed her the money. “I threw in a little extra, you know what for,” he said winking at the girl with a perverted smile on his face. The girl blushed, knowing exactly what the man meant. The several times she had made him scream in pure pleasure in the past day and a half.
As she left, she felt a hand smack her ass, and she felt tears threatening to fall. It was like this after every time. No matter how many times she did this, it never hurt any less. It never got easier.
The only reason she did it was simple enough. Izza, Riley, and Gram.
Izza, sweet little Izza. Not even four, and she’s already known pain. From their parents dying in the fire that destroyed their home, to knowing what hunger is, and seeing Gram fade more and more each day. She was Izza world, and didn’t believe she deserves to be her idol. She was a whore, and she wasn’t proud of it. But, there’s no other job a nineteen year old girl can get when she hasn’t even finished high school that paid enough to take care of their family.
Riley, baby Riley. Okay, so at two, he wasn’t really a baby anymore, but in her mind he was. He had only been a few months old when their parents died, and she knew she could never be the parent that he should have had, and it was the same as Izza. The boy was quiet, and pretty shy, but he was smart. He was already reading by himself, and he was writing, too. She was proud of him, and knew he could go far.
Gram, poor Gram. She had lost her only daughter, her husband, and her brother. All the family she had left was her three grandchildren, one of which was taking care of them all. Everyday her memories slipped away more and more, as did her will to live. She hated seeing her Gram this way, but knew there was nothing she could do.
A block from her apartment, she stopped at her landlord’s house. Knocking on the door, she waited a few seconds until Mrs. Taylor opened the door. “Rebekah,” she said politely. “Mrs. Taylor,” she said in the same tone. “How much do I owe you for rent?” she asked, her voice quiet. “Twelve hundred fifty,” Mrs. Taylor replied. Two months rent all bunched together, and Rebekah just had enough.
She counted out the money she had just gotten, a bit over a thousand, and pulled the rest from her bag. “That’ll last you until the first of the month after the next,” Mrs. Taylor said after counting the money. Rebekah nodded before saying goodbye and heading the rest of the way home.
She felt as if dozens of people were staring at her as she walked, which in turned caused her to pull the jacket tighter around her thin frame. Most of the food she gave to the kids, knowing they needed it more than she did.
Walking in a public place had become something she hated the most. At the beginning, she had felt as if they all knew she was whoring herself to pay the rent, and on some days she still thought this. She walked slowly up the stairs, to the apartment where she lived, and unlocked the door.
“Sissy!” two voices exclaimed at once, and soon two sets of arms were wrapped around her legs. Looking at them, she say the love in their eyes.
She didn’t deserve their love, not in the least. She was just another whore.
As she left, she felt a hand smack her ass, and she felt tears threatening to fall. It was like this after every time. No matter how many times she did this, it never hurt any less. It never got easier.
The only reason she did it was simple enough. Izza, Riley, and Gram.
Izza, sweet little Izza. Not even four, and she’s already known pain. From their parents dying in the fire that destroyed their home, to knowing what hunger is, and seeing Gram fade more and more each day. She was Izza world, and didn’t believe she deserves to be her idol. She was a whore, and she wasn’t proud of it. But, there’s no other job a nineteen year old girl can get when she hasn’t even finished high school that paid enough to take care of their family.
Riley, baby Riley. Okay, so at two, he wasn’t really a baby anymore, but in her mind he was. He had only been a few months old when their parents died, and she knew she could never be the parent that he should have had, and it was the same as Izza. The boy was quiet, and pretty shy, but he was smart. He was already reading by himself, and he was writing, too. She was proud of him, and knew he could go far.
Gram, poor Gram. She had lost her only daughter, her husband, and her brother. All the family she had left was her three grandchildren, one of which was taking care of them all. Everyday her memories slipped away more and more, as did her will to live. She hated seeing her Gram this way, but knew there was nothing she could do.
A block from her apartment, she stopped at her landlord’s house. Knocking on the door, she waited a few seconds until Mrs. Taylor opened the door. “Rebekah,” she said politely. “Mrs. Taylor,” she said in the same tone. “How much do I owe you for rent?” she asked, her voice quiet. “Twelve hundred fifty,” Mrs. Taylor replied. Two months rent all bunched together, and Rebekah just had enough.
She counted out the money she had just gotten, a bit over a thousand, and pulled the rest from her bag. “That’ll last you until the first of the month after the next,” Mrs. Taylor said after counting the money. Rebekah nodded before saying goodbye and heading the rest of the way home.
She felt as if dozens of people were staring at her as she walked, which in turned caused her to pull the jacket tighter around her thin frame. Most of the food she gave to the kids, knowing they needed it more than she did.
Walking in a public place had become something she hated the most. At the beginning, she had felt as if they all knew she was whoring herself to pay the rent, and on some days she still thought this. She walked slowly up the stairs, to the apartment where she lived, and unlocked the door.
“Sissy!” two voices exclaimed at once, and soon two sets of arms were wrapped around her legs. Looking at them, she say the love in their eyes.
She didn’t deserve their love, not in the least. She was just another whore.