Nobody's life is perfect. What is perfect? I mean nothing in this world is perfect. Not one single thing. So how would we know what perfect is? I mean, if you think about it, everyone's definition of perfect is different. You can be perfect to someone, and be completely opposite in someone else's point of view. The point is, nobody, and nothing, is perfect. Just wanted to get that out there before I tell you this story, because after this, I hope you consider my words.
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Dark. That's all my left eye could reveal, was total and complete dark. My right eye was swollen shut and I could taste blood on my dry bitter lips. I wanted to speak, or call for help, but not only would that probably make things worse, but I knew even if I tried to, all that would come out of my mouth was silence.
I knew what happened to me. It wasn't like I blanked out and had sudden memory loss. No, this was much worse. I wish I could have had sudden amnesia, but no. I had the painful ability to remember every last sweat drop to every last painful claw like movements on my skin.
Something moved from in front of the door, and a shed of light moved into the room. Moving my hand in front of my view, I could see a black bruise forming in between my thumb and wrist. That was the only part I ever seemed to draw a blank on. Whether it was rope or cuffs that kept me down. From there not being any rashes or burns, I could tell that it was cuffs.
"Shit," someone whispered-yelled from behind the wooden door. I moved my hand and laid it limp by my side, once again. My shoulder and elbow ached from the movement. Though it ached, I knew I wasn't bruised or showed any physical abuse there because Joe would make sure that the men who paid wouldn't... "Scratch the merchandise." I was a toy, if you haven't concluded that. Well, not was, I still am.
You see, Joe is a special man. His father owns a multi-millionaire bank, and just opened a hotel, which also makes great money. Joe, well he's a wreck. Took his poor father's money and bought drugs, guns, and well... women. At first, he bought women for a night. The ol' prostitution set up. Then ol' Joe got curious, found out how much money a person makes from kidnapping and selling the women on the corners. That's where I come in. So, how about we start our story there.
