Stolen

Jenna sighed quietly at her reflection as she stared at the mirror. Dark circles ringed the area below her eyes, giving her face a much sadder look than most people ever saw. She traced the outline of her lips gently, flinching as the tip of her finger grazed the cut on her lower lip.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" She whispered quietly. Turning away from the mirror she shut off the light to her bathroom, not even bothering to change out of her work clothes before climbing into bed. Shutting off the light she pulled the covers up around her shoulders, hugging them tightly around her body. Fearing that if she let go, she'd lose her grip on everything.

She closed her eyes, trying to erase the memories of tonight and fall asleep. But it didn't seem to matter how hard she tried to forget. For every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face.

The tears slowly started to fall from her eyes as she let out silent heart wrenching sobs that lasted well into the night. Until she finally cried her self out, drifting off into a fit fulls night sleep. Images of his face haunting her once peaceful dreams.

She awoke the next morning, tired and stiff. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot from crying herself to sleep. Eyeliner and mascara stained her cheeks, as well as the white pillow case her head had rested on. She frowned.

Turning on her stereo, she listened as Ed Sheeran's music filled her apartment while she cleaned herself up. Stepping out of the little black dress she had worn the night before, standing only in a black lace thong and matching bra. She began scrubbing the ruined makeup from her face until it was clean, then pulled the pillow case from her bed tossed into the wash.

She started a pot of coffee before she climbed into the shower.

"White lips, pale face
Breathing in snowflakes
Burnt lungs, sour taste
Light's gone, days end
Struggling to pay rent
Long nights, strange men."

She sang along to the lyrics as she scrubbed at her body. Though she knew in her mind that no amount of scrubbing would ever get her body clean enough. Not after the things she's done. She never wanted her life to end up the way it was...ever.

"And in a pipe she fly's to the Motherland
Or sells love to another man
It's to cold outside, for Angels to fly."

She shuts off the water after a while and climbs out, running her towel over her body quickly before wrapping herself in it and going to get a cup of coffee. Scratching her cat behind the ear as he mewed softly from his spot next to the coffee pot, leaning his head into her hand and purring as she did so. She smiled softly before taking her coffee and heading back to her bathroom.

She finished drying off before throwing on her clothes. Nothing fancy today, just a pair of dark wash jeans, black tank top and a purple colored sweater that hung off her shoulders over that. She added a pair of boots before throwing on some eyeliner and pulling her hair back into a ponytail.

She frowned at her reflection, honestly to tired to care what she looked like anymore. If it was up to her she wouldn't even leave her apartment...just stay in there and die. Not like anyone would care right?

She grabbed her iPod and her keys off the table by her door before stuffing her wallet in her back pocket. Locking the door behind her as she stepped out. She gave her usual small smile to her neighbor down the hall. Mrs. Haymitch, the sweet little old lady in 13B. Probably the only person in the whole entire building that didn't judge her when she walked by, claiming that "It's ok. A person has to do what they can to survive."

She wished everyone she met was that nice. But then again she couldn't blame a lot of people. She frowned upon the thought of Prostitution once to. Still does, but not as much considering she is the very thing she use to think of as a vile and disgusting profession. But you know, you gotta do what you gotta do.

Walking down the street she kept her eyes low and her music up. Ignoring the judgmental stares and comments that she had learned to avoid for her own good. She had learned along time ago that people could be hurtful and cruel when it came to being well, a whore, as most put it. She didn't want this, just as much as any other person didn't want it. If she had had any other choice she wouldn't be here.

But the promise of good money and being able to keep a roof over her head and food in her belly was far to good to pass up. She sniffled lightly as the memories of the past nine years flooded back into her head. Running away, becoming homeless...becoming a hooker. She never wanted any of it, but she never had much of a choice. Abusive foster parents, being bounced from home to home, not being able to take any more of it. It just all became to much for her to bear.

She was homeless and roaming the streets of New York before long. Doing what she could just to find shelter and get her next meal. For four years she lived off the streets. Promising herself that she would never become like some of the streetwalkers that she had befriend on several occasions, mostly when she was in need of food. They were always more than willing to lend her a little money, considering they were like her once.

Then one day it all became to much. She was tired of living half starved, cold and sleeping out of a cardboard box. She gave in. She became a prostitute.

Not paying attention she bumped into someone, falling to the ground with a 'umph'. She pulled the ear-buds from her ears, killing the music as pain radiated from her tailbone and up her back.

"I am sorry." A gruff voice apologized, the man kneeling beside her. "You're not hurt, are you?" Concern was evident in his kind blue eyes.

Jenna shook her head. "I don't think so." She answered quietly. He extended his hand to help her up as he stood.

"I am terribly sorry I knocked you over, I-"

"No, no. Don't be. It was my fault." She apologized quickly "I'm the one who wasn't watching where I was going." The man examined her face. How she wouldn't look him straight in the eye, how she mostly kept her gaze to the ground, avoiding the seemingly judging eyes that glared as people passed by her.

'This girl is troubled?' He thought to himself.

"There is no need to apologize." He waved it off as if it were nothing. "I wasn't paying attention either." He gave the girl a small, but kind smile. She looked up at him, blue-green eyes full of curiosity, but she returned the gesture nevertheless.

"Thank you." She said quietly.

"You're welcome. Would you mind if I asked your name?" The man asked curiously. Jenna thought about it for a moment, not really sure if she should or not. But there was something about the man that made her feel...comfortable?

"Jenna." She replied. "My name is Jenna." The man gave another small smile. Something which seemed out of place, but nice, on his seemingly serious face.

"I am Castiel." He said, giving his name in return." It was a pleasure meeting you Jenna." He took the girls hand gently, shaking it as she stared into his blue eyes, mesmerized by them almost.

She watched in amazement as the man, Castiel, walked away and into the crowded New York sidewalk, not even noticing that the pain in her tailbone had all but disappeared. Almost as quickly as he did.