Instinct

I'm Not A Slut

Before you ask, No. I'm not a slut! Oops, I should introduce myself now shouldn't I. Hello there! My name is Cheyenne Khalis and I am 16 years old. I live in New York City with my 30 year old mom, Jennifer. Perhaps I should explain that too.

My mother was sexually assaulted when she was 13. She became pregnant with me because the rapist did not use a condom. I always feel like she hates me, because I am a constant reminder of my mothers rape. Always I feel that it would just be better if I just left her alone. Not that I'm thinking of suicide or anything, but just, leaving, moving out, I don't know. Actually, it would be better for my personal safety if I just left.

Jennifer is a fucking crack addict. She doesn't have a job, and she's also always high on some sort of drug. She was talking about moving to Colorado so she could smoke cocaine, or some shit legally. I could never report her though. I'd lose the apartment and have to go into fucking foster care. Hell no! I take care of myself and don't need no fake ass family to do it for me. But whats the point, she doesn't work, an she's relying on my dead grandfathers little money left. And she's wasting it all on drugs.

Believe me, I've tried to run away several times, but she'd always find me,  or threaten me to force me to come home. It's like she doesn't give a fuck about me. And that's just it, she doesn't. But then it hit me, I don't need to fucking leave my apartment because of her stupid bitch ass decisions. That's not fair to me, who works my ass off in school, to graduate early so I can get the fuck out of here.

But that's my biggest problem, where do I go? The economy nowadays is so bad, they don't except workers under the age of 18, anywhere in New York. The only place I can think of, is the Whore House about 15 minutes from my apartment. The place is literally called the Whore House, and it is some dank ass place like a strip club, and a booty pop shop,( which is basically today's hit place where you throw bills at girls who twerk with them big fat asses of theirs) all in one. Touching, but not my cup of tea.

So I decided to get some help. Today at the lockers, I was talking to my "friend" Stacy. Stacy is around 5'8", tans like a mad man, and always wears high heels wherever the hell she goes. She wheres so much make up that you can barely see her face. Pretty sluttish, I know. My point is even more proven by how she acts. Stacy is the kind of girl who has sex every week, more than likely with different men. You can tell due to Stacy's inability to place things in her purse properly. Every Friday, a condom sticks out of her purse, so you kinda just have to figure. So every time I talk to her, I have to do it when nobody is around. This kinda shit that she pulls makes me debate even calling her my friend. Oh well, I had no other options.

"Hello Stacy," I said quietly to her. That's another thing about her is that she is so fucking loud. Speaking quietly gives her a hint that this is private, and to remain quiet.

"Oh it's been so long Cheyenne, how's it going!"

I swear sometimes she sounds like a fucking valley girl. She's also probably one of those girls who can work at a booty pop shop too.

"It's been a week, why the hell are you so excited?"

"Cause I'm high on this legal marijuana though! Want some?"

"Hell no. If you get caught, they'll fucking expel you."

"No big deal. Anyways, what you wanna be talking bout?"

She also has half ass grammar at best. It's funny at times, but annoying at times with Stacy. Oh well.

"Listen, my half ass mother refuses to get a job and I need a quick way to get money. Any ideas?"

"Well there is one thing I can think of that I do,"

"What is it! Tell me!"

"Uh, never mind its not for you."

As she was about to leave I yelled out at her and she came back.

"Just tell me what the fuck it is, bitch."

"Okay fine you dumbass, but don't say I didn't warn you."

"Enough with the viewer discretion is advised bullshit. Just. Fucking. Tell. Me!"

"Fine, me and a bunch of other girls our age are having men pay for, pleasure. From us."

"So, it's prostitution."

"Somewhat, but your not like controlled by a pimp or something. I only do it once every Friday and the money goes straight to you."

"So your whores?"

"No, we're entrepreneurs, working on a new business."

"Entrepreneurs my asscrack."

"You know what, you asked for my fucking advice and if you don't want it then I'll just leave to make me money."

"No wait, Stacy!"

She was about to leave, I had to call her back. When I shouted her name, she turned her head. Then she came back towards the lockers.

"What, want to criticize me some more about my bitch ass, whore looking, mother fucking-"

"I want to."

"Hmm?"

"I want to do this."

"You say it with your words but not with your soul, I can tell."

"You must really be high on that marijuana."

"So I'll ask you again, are you sure about this?"

"Yes." I said firmly realizing the mistake I just made.

"Okay, the weekly meeting is tonight at 8:00. Just tell Jennifer that that new place down the street from you is hiring."

And with that she left.

I'm not a slut, right? 

A.N. The cover will be posted soon. No cover contest sorry!