Once Upon A Prostitute

CHAPTER 1 - ESCAPE

****Play the song as you read. Totally sets the mood for this story. Moving on by Asa.

Journal entry
Many are mad but few are roaming. Many are bound but few are locked up.

Mina...
I sit with my head leaning on the window of the Inter-city coach bus. I am tired but I can't sleep. I'm hungry but I had traded most of my meals for bus tickets. I have been on the road for two days and a half, hopping from one bus to the other, trying to get as far away from LA as I can. This is going to be my last bus ride because I have run out of money to pay my fare. I have no Idea where I am headed. I mean I know the name of the town - Twinhills, at least that's what the bus ticket says - but that's about it. I have no idea what kind of town it is, what the economic conditions are, or how safe it is. Still the farther we travel, the more relief I feel. I take a deep breath and feel my nerves calm a little. I close my eyes but they flutter open again as memories of the past few days comes rushing through.

Looking out the window, I notice the woods have begun to thin out and there is a lot of grassland...empty vast green grassland. This must be the beginning of a town or a village. I hope it's a town. That will mean better possibility of being unnoticed and more opportunities to make a few bucks here and there. I begin to wonder how I'm going to survive. With no money, no home, no contact, only God knows how I'd make it. But I try not to think about that...there is no point carrying tomorrow's worries today.

I left. I made it out. And for now, that's enough.

Not for long though. Reality kicks in. I am tired, hungry, itchy and uncomfortable. I had been wandering for probably an hour since I alighted from the bus at the bus station, which by the way looked like a scene from a 1970s movie. The rest of the town seems to have upgraded, however. I had expected to see ancient looking cottages and small modest houses scattered on flowery lawns, but surprisingly, most of the houses are well built with modern architecture. This could very well pass for a rich suburban neighbourhood.

My stomach must have some kind of sixth sense because I soon found myself standing in front of a diner. The windows have pictures of steaming cups of coffee and pastries. My feet shuffle towards it without hesitation.

I hear the clanging of bells as I walk through the diner's door. The smell of freshly baked pastries hits me so strong that my stomach rumbles. My mouth waters so much it almost has drooling. There is a middle-aged woman with red hair at the counter. She looks up at me and her eyebrows come together as she takes in my haggard-looking appearance. Feeling nervous and self-conscious, I give her a little wave and mutter a greeting, then slide into a chair by the table closest to the door.

Five minutes later, I am still sitting here throwing gazes at the pastries in the glass snack warmer. It is pure torture as I do not have enough money to buy some. I had rummaged through my backpack and only came up with $1.15 in change. The prices on the board staring at me lists the cheapest snack at $2.50

The red-haired lady keeps shooting wary glances my way. She must know I have no money. 'Well, I may not have money but I am sure going to eat something' I tell myself stubbornly. Talk about hunger-driven faith!

She goes through a door I am guessing leads to the kitchen and I eye the pastries again. Maybe I can grab one and run before she comes out. I hesitate. I've never stolen anything in my life. Besides the snack warmer opens up from the other side of the counter. I'd have to go around. What if I'm not fast enough and can't get out on time before she comes back?

The red-haired woman comes back. 'Coward', my stomach accuses with a growl. I ignore it. The woman suddenly looks straight at me like she is trying to read my mind. I look away from her sharp intense gaze, feeling very guilty.