To Be Like Me
Routine.
My stepmother is a money-hungry, drugged-up whore. Her boyfriend is an abusive rapist. And me? I'm caught in the middle of them. My "mother" forces me to strip for her money, her boyfriend treats me like a slut - which I am. The sad part is, I'm only sixteen. I've been raped, beaten, and even sold since the age of thirteen. When I'm at school, I put on a good show. I'm "popular" - always with the hottest guys, prettiest girls; always in the newest fashions. But, I'd give all of that up to disappear off the face of the earth. To any girl, I'm a picture of perfection - green eyes, killer bone structure, pouty pink lips and long dirty blonde hair. To any guy, I'm the hottest piece of ass - body like a model, booty like a stripper, and face like Megan Fox. To my stepmother and her boyfriend, I'm just good fun. No one knows what it's like to be like me. They're lucky...
I just lie there and take it. There's nothing I can do about it. If I move, he'll hit me. So, there I lay. I don't cry anymore. Why waste tears on something that won't change? He grunts and pulls out of me. He always says, "It's not fun if you're pregnat." I agree. It's not fun being raped, and it sure as hell ain't fun when you get pregnat! Then, he leaves, sweat dripping from every pore on his body. And still, I lay there - like the victim of a homicide, cold body and all. Sooner or later, I get up and wash the dirt, grime, and shame off of my body. Although, the shame never fades. After a couple hours, I get out and dress for work, the job my stepmother chose for me - stripping. I slip on my fishnets and undergarmets and drown my face in makeup and feet in nine-inch heels. If my mother could see this, she'd die, but she,s dead, do there's no use in that.
I just lie there and take it. There's nothing I can do about it. If I move, he'll hit me. So, there I lay. I don't cry anymore. Why waste tears on something that won't change? He grunts and pulls out of me. He always says, "It's not fun if you're pregnat." I agree. It's not fun being raped, and it sure as hell ain't fun when you get pregnat! Then, he leaves, sweat dripping from every pore on his body. And still, I lay there - like the victim of a homicide, cold body and all. Sooner or later, I get up and wash the dirt, grime, and shame off of my body. Although, the shame never fades. After a couple hours, I get out and dress for work, the job my stepmother chose for me - stripping. I slip on my fishnets and undergarmets and drown my face in makeup and feet in nine-inch heels. If my mother could see this, she'd die, but she,s dead, do there's no use in that.