Diary Of A Pack Whore

Entry 4: Free Food On Tuesdays

Miles threw the book down a hurried to grab the ringing phone before it woke his sleeping daughter. A grin crossed his face as he saw the caller id.  Jordan, Miles mate, had been out of town on business for the week but had promised to be home today.

"Are you on your way home mate?"

"Miles I'm so sorry babe but we have to stay for another week."

"Are you sure? I have a surprise waiting for you." Miles whined.

"You know I'd rather be home with you then anywhere else. We're trying to wrap this up as fast as we can, but everything keeps going to shit."

Raised voices sounded in the background after a deafening screech echoed through the phone.

"Fuck! Gotta go, I'll call you later." 

Miles placed his phone back on the table.  He knew Jordan would be home if he could. That thought though,  didn't keep the loneliness at bay. Instead it just added to the hollow feeling that had been growing with his mates absence.

Checking the time Miles got up to start dinner. Soon his baby girl would be waking up from her nap and wanting her dinner.

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After a full day of housework, pack work and kids Miles curled up in his empty bed. Picking up the small journal he once again wondered about it's purpose. Why after all these years would Rhea contact him? And in such an odd way.

Though her journal was sad it really had nothing to do with him. Yes he was sorry that her mate rejected her and everything. But who could blame him? What she had written was true. She had been a slut in school who when given the choice had turned to prostitution.

Miles stared at the book in his hands while contemplating whether he even wanted to continue. Soft sighs filtered through the baby monitor filling the silence and making his decision for him.

Rhea's life choices may not concern him, but he owed it to her to at least read what she had sent.

****90% of prostitutes say they want out but that it is not their choice.***

Entry 4: Free food on Tuesday's

As I look back on that first year after I left home I'm amazed that I lived. I don't know if it was through sheer luck or the grace of God, but somehow I not only survived, I prospered.

In that first year I became someone my child could be proud of. Someone that I could respect and love. For the first time in my life when I looked in the mirror I did not see a disgusting drain on society that should just die.

It began in the rain. First as I chose to leave Zeus and then later as I arrived in the small town that I would begin to rebuild myself in.

Shivering as I stepped off the bus, I sprinted towards the depot through the pouring rain. My thin clothes took only seconds to soak through, leaving me dripping as I stepped through the doorway into the heated waiting room.

I rushed to the bathroom gripping my bag tightly to me. Glancing around the surprisingly clean public washroom I froze at the sight before me. The entire side wall was covered in sinks bisecting a floor to ceiling mirror. A mirror that showed me in stark relief.

Staring back at me was a waif of a wolf dressed in what could barely be considered clothes.  A tight thin shirt clung to my emaciated body. Each rib shadowing the translucent fabric. My hip bones jutting out were the only thing holding up the panties disguised as shorts that hung below my small pooch that was now sheltering my child.

Matted black hair hung limp and thin, showing no signs of life or body. My formerly healthy golden skin was now sallow. Every bruise showing dark and healing slow. And my eyes. I had seen more emotion in the eyes of a corpse. Sunken into my face and ringed by dark circles. They showed no pain or fear. They showed only the nothingness that was my soul.

Seeing myself like this I had no clue how Zeus had made any money off of me. Were men really so desperate that they'd pay for the fright show I'd become?

Quickly turning from the sight of myself in the mirror I grabbed some paper towels and warm dry clothes and got to work.

Wondering around the bus terminal I tried to stay out of sight until the rain stopped. I had money, but it would not last long if I was renting hotel rooms. So with that in mind I spent that cold rainy night pretending to be waiting for someone who would never show.

It was four in the morning and the rain had slowed. I stood near the doors in front of a wall covered in advertisements. I slowly made my way down the wall trying to make out the words on each piece of paper. Hoping against hope that just one would offer some sort of work.

When I was halfway down the wall something caught my eye. I didn't know it at the time but it would be my salvation. The one good choice I would ever make in my life.

The page wasn't bright and fancy. To anyone else it would never catch their eye. But to me it was a shining beacon of hope. I couldn't make out most of the words. Only two stood out to me as recognizable. "Free Food".

Painstakingly I wrote down what I hoped was the address. Making sure each letter matched. Even if I could not find it myself, I would be able to ask for help.

My spirit lifted. Even if I once again had to sleep on the streets at least one day a week I could eat until I was full. Now I just had to figure out what day it was. I knew the first letter was a t, so that narrowed down my choices of days.

Deciding that I would check out both days instead of struggling to figure out what the sign said I stepped out into the dawning day with hope filling my heart.