Cheater (Complete)

Chapter Thirteen: First of Four

Memory (Of when she was about thirteen)

Contains mildly disturbing content

I had an amazing memory, better than most. Some may see it as a blessing, seeing as how I remember pretty much every detail of my life.

Really, it's a curse.

I was sitting in the car, waiting for my mom to finish up.

God, that left a vile taste in my mouth.

My homework was laid out on the floor. I had finished it some time before but I was so bored, with so much time on my hands, that I rechecked it about four times. It was so boring, sitting in this car in the intense heat.

My shirt was already soaked through with sweat, the fabric starting to stiffen up. I sighed and turned to my side. I was on the floor of the car. Mom didn't want me to scare off any potential customers and she couldn't leave me at home by myself.

We had no home phone and we lived in an apartment building with a registered child molester. I was still tiny enough and innocent looking enough to gain his attention. My mom may not have a heart but she had enough mercy to let me come along with her.

If this could be called a mercy.

Usually we don't take the car but mom said it was smart sometimes to have a handy vehicle in case something went wrong or if the customer looked shifty.

This was one of those times.

This was a routine pickup. She stated her price and he agreed, getting in the car.

I would sit behind his seat, hidden snugly under a blanket, folding myself as small as I could on the dirty car floor, hating her and myself as I listened to them.

Mom says that if I was ever seen by a customer, she'd skip my meals for three weeks. I don't think she knows she hasn't fed me since I was attached to her boobs for nourishment. If I ever was in the first place. Now that I think about it, was I ever breast fed?

I didn't even know. It didn't seem like something mom would do.

I usually ate down the hall with a nice family. They invited me to dinner every day because I was friends with their daughter. They were poor as dirt but than again, so were we. They were such kind people, letting me cut into their lives when they already didn't have much.

I made very sure to make a ton of friends as a precaution. Sometimes it helped to have people there for you, even if they don't know the exact circumstances.

Still, when mom was angry at me, she became violent so I made it my personal mission to remain unseen by the men.

It was for my own good.

Sometimes, when I was severely unlucky, they would take care of business in the car and I snuck out while he was... occupied.

This time, that was luckily not the case. I had time to do my homework and mom would come out by herself from that little motel we were parked outside of.

She was fortunate to bag the manager of the place while walking out with another customer, so hence why I've been in here so long.

Still, that man was the manager so that meant she didn't have to take him back on the street where he picked her up. He would just stay here.

I found that to be a true blessing. I hated having to look at the men who used my mother, into their disgusting, satisfied faces.

But I couldn't help myself most times. I had to have a peek at them, hating them and all others like them that made this type of life possible for people like my mom. Maybe if she didn't have this option, what I considered to be the easy way out, she would try harder to get a respectable job.