Surviving

four

For the next few months, my days consisted of hitchhiking, thanking the driver with sex and then finding somewhere to crash for the night. That little girl I was when my mom died, she's basically dead too. I've had to build up an entirely new version of myself in order to keep doing what I'm doing. If I focus on it too much, I know I'll break and I can't let that happen. I have to be strong. Mom wouldn't want me doing this but she wouldn't want me killing myself, so I guess this is the next best thing.

I actually had some nice conversations with the people I'd hitch rides with, and what I liked was that they didn't talk to me as if I was some dumb kid. As far as I'm concerned, I'm an adult now. I have boobs, and I can survive without anyone else around me. I've grown up.

One of the guys I got a ride from, Tom, he even let me have one of his beers. At first I hated the taste, but the longer we drove and the more sips I took, I loved it. Another guy, Michael, he got me to smoke weed. I loved that stuff; it made me feel so on top of the world. I felt like I didn't have any problems in my life and I was just in the moment with it. Eventually the effects faded and I felt really down, but then I'd sleep with him and get a feeling of complete euphoria and control.

At first, I really hated sleeping with the guys. It still hurt and it just felt so completely wrong, but the more times I did it, the less painful it was. I actually started to enjoy it slightly, thanks to a guy named Steve. He was the first guy to actually please me as well as me please him. All the other guys before him would get me to do stuff to them, sleep with them and then leave me to change, but Steve was different. He took his time. It still disgusts me that all of these guys wanted to have sex with a twelve year old girl but I didn't care, as long as I got a ride.

My plan was to go to LA and I've finally arrived. Mom and I had talked about going there when she would have the money. We both knew that she'd never have the money to take us there, but it was the thought that counts. She would say "Demi, you have a talent. A gift. We're gonna go to LA baby girl and get you noticed". She always told me that I had the most beautiful voice and that others should get to enjoy it too. I haven't sung since before she died, and I don't know if I'll ever be ready to but I'm here for her. For mom.

I haven't heard anything from Ms Hilary since I left. I think she's forgotten about me completely, and I'm totally okay with that. No police have been after me, and I doubt she would have filed a missing persons' report. She's too dumb to even know how to do that.

Tonight, the guy who's giving me a ride is taking me to a part of LA that he says I'll love. He even said I might be able to make some good money for myself. He never told me his name, and when he asked for mine I just said that it was D. I didn't want to risk telling any of the men my name in case it somehow got back to Ms Hilary and she finds me. It's too risky.

We end up driving down a dark road, the only lights visible are ones in shop windows and the bars surrounding the streets. There are lots of women hanging around street corners, their butts hanging out of their tacky leather skirts while their boobs are practically bursting out their shirts. We soon stop outside a liqueur store where the guy tells me my ride is done.

"Alright, thanks. So what do you want? Hand or blow?" I ask casually, this becoming a daily routine for me now.

The guy simply chuckles and shakes his head before handing me over fifty dollars. I look up at him, confused as hell.

"Um, why are you paying me? I pay you, that's how it works. Is it sex instead that you want?" I ask, genuinely wondering what the hell this guy is doing.

"I don't want anything. Use that money to book yourself into a hotel room for the night. Get yourself washed, get some sleep and then head over to the corner next to this store tomorrow. You'll meet a girl called Amber, she'll take care of you from there" he says before pulling me close to him, kissing me.

The kiss is rough but it's not something foreign to me. Most men I've been with aren't exactly gentle. We break away as he leans over me, opening my door.

"Thanks" I say quietly and then scoot out of the truck, my bag in hand as I admire my surroundings.

There's a smell of weed surrounding me and the noise coming from the bars liven up the street. I walk into the hotel next to the liqueur store while the guy drives off and ask them what room I can get for fifty dollars. After booking me in and handing me my room key, I head up to the second floor and into my room.

It's nothing special but it's better than the benches I've been sleeping on since leaving Ms Hilary's. Heck, it's even better than my bedroom there. Placing my bag on the ground, I walk straight into the bathroom and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I look so different to how I did back in August. It's December now. I didn't think it was possible to change this much in only four months but I guess I was wrong. My hair is long and tousled and the bags under my eyes remind me of just how tired I am. I tie my hair up to get a better look at my neck. It's covered in hickeys from the guys who got me here. Not wanting to think about it too much, I break my gaze away from my reflection and turn on the shower; my first proper shower in months. The only other times I'd say I had a shower was when it was torrential rain or someone was kind enough to buy me some water so I could quickly wash myself.

Stripping out of my dirty clothes, I step into the steamy shower and feel my tense muscles relax. Closing my eyes, I can't help but allow my mind to drift off to my mom. God I miss her. I miss how it felt to be in her arms, and to hear her laugh or make her smile. She had the most beautiful smile; it could light up an entire room. She was so beautiful. Everything about her was beautiful, even her name. Dianna. I didn't just lose a mom, I lost my best friend, my innocence, and any self-respect I had.

I don't know if it's the running water or not, but I can feel tears stream down my face as it all hits me. I'm a twelve year old who's been raped and who sells her body for sex in order to get a ride. Collapsing onto the shower floor, I continue to cry until all my energy is gone. After showering myself, I then use the soap sitting by the sink and soak my clothes in the running water before lathering them with soap. This is the only way I'll be able to wear my clothes again. The dirt that seeps out the fabric makes me feel sick. I can't believe I've been wearing clothes with this much dirt on them.

Once they're as clean as they can be, I throw them all over the shower railing, hoping they'll be dry by the morning, and then climb into bed. The sheets scratch against my tender skin but I don't care. I'm thankful that I've actually got a warm bed to sleep in tonight and don't need to worry about anyone catching me sleeping outside. Tiredness overwhelms me and I feel my eyes start to close, allowing me to slip away into a safe sleep for once.

I guess I'm lucky, right mom?