The Prostitute And The Player (Watty Awards 2011)

The Prostitute And The Player

PROLOGUE [:

“Oh, baby, where can we go, hmm?” A man with a scraggly brown beard and blue eyes takes me right then and there in the backseat. We undress each other, but something in the back of my mind still stops me from liking this like my precious daddy tells me I will eventually. He sends me out everyday at the crack of dawn to go fool around at the local clubs.

If it wasn’t for my little brother Caleb, I’d murder my bastard of a father and then make a run for it. But I knew foster care was nothing a six year old wanted to handle. “Right here.” I unstrap my heels and begin to remove his shirt, his abs showing. Wow, I didn’t expect that. Half of the other boys weren’t half as good looking on their chest.

Once we are both fully intertwined, he kisses up and down my neck, and I just close my eyes, picturing Kyle, the boy I dated two months ago before he found out about my second life. It was horrible. He had given his virginity away to me, I lied and told him I was a virgin as well, to protect him if anything.

Well, one night when my father came home drunk as he ever had been before, he threw me up against the wall, smacked me a few times, and spilled the guts that I was a ‘low-life prostitute who got it in seven times a day.’ When Jacob heard that, he fled the house and then told the whole school about me, now my only friend is Maria, who is also a prostitute, but luckily, she is able to keep her’s a secret.

She has a loving family, and only chooses to be one. Maybe if my father wasn’t such a drunk and spent all his money on booze, I would be able to make a life for Caleb and I. At least I was working on it. I already had three hundred dollars put in the bank to buy a decent apartment. After this man got it in, I moved on to the next eight or nine. I lose count after at least five.

Counting the cash I had made outside of the doorway, I stuff all of the sixty nine dollars and thirty cents into my shirt, someplace dad would never expect to look. That’s when I heard crying. “Caleb?” I call, alarmed as I run throughout the house, following his relentless cries.

My baby brother is crumpled on the floor just beneath the fridge, holding his face between his knees, rocking back and forth. When he notices me, his face smiles a bit, but pulls back into the same sort of frown when I notice the large bruise forming on his baby faced cheek. I had been the same age when dad started abusing me, too. “Come here, Caleb. Everything’s okay.” I pick him up in my arms, setting him down on the counter.

Examining the freezer, I find a bag of frozen peas. “I don’t like peas.” He swats at them with a disgusted expression.

It took all I had not to giggle at his assumption. “No, silly. You don’t eat the peas silly goose, their for your face.” I didn’t want to alarm him, so I scoop him up into my arms, bouncing him up and down on my hip. The front door opens and slams, and that’s when I make the smart decision to shoo him away into my room, and to lock the door. He scurries away with the peas. “Stay there until I come get you.” I order.

My 5’6 tall father storms into the kitchen drunk. It’s ten o’ clock, so this wasn’t unusual. “Where the hell is my money?” He questions, reaching his hand out, paying the price as he stumbles backwards, then back towards me, slapping me in the face. The stinging sensation didn’t even bother me; my blood boiled.

“I-I didn’t make any.” No matter how times this scene repeated itself every other night, I was still scared silly about how bad he would hurt me. Whimpering, I guard myself behind the other side of the counter and glance back and forth between the knife set we owned. If it ever got too bad, I knew how to defend myself.

“Liar.” I really was horrid at that. As he plunges towards me, I move out of the way, him landing flat on his face with a sickening smack. He chases after me, quite fast in his drunken state. Sticking my tongue out at him, I run around the living room, around and around. He grabs my ankle and pulls me down, yanking me by the hair afterwards.

“Ow!” I cry, yelping in pain. Not thinking about it, I lead us back into the kitchen and twice more around the kitchen counter, and then the table. Absentmindedly, I do what I’ve wanted forever.

I stabbed my father in the shoulder blade. And boy did it feel great.

____________________________________

Okay, so before you go biting my head off, yes i realize that this story is a bit cliche, but whose isnt on wattpad? Secondly, i have entered this story into the watty awards so throughout the chapters if you could please comment vote and fan id highly appreciate it. Thanks a lot.

-Breanna. ♥

Click open external link and like my facebook everyone. Leave a comment? XOXO

(: