My breath came out in short, raged, little gasps. I shut my eyes and clutched my stomach.
Why me?
Why anyone, at that?
I was a good kid. I came from a good family. Not exactly rich, but not poor either. Life was good. Less than two years ago, if you had told me I would find myself a homeless alcoholic, I would have laughed it off. Now, I can't even look at my reflection without cringing in disgust. How could I let myself fall that low? I always hoped I would be one of those girls...you know those ones in stories? Where they're homeless, but stunningly beautiful. And some rich guy finds them and they fall in love and he rescues them and takes them home, and then there's the happily ever after sh*t etc.? Well...that didn't happen.
After a few months, I tried whiskey for the first time. I loved the way it dragged me away from my troubles. It dragged me into the oblivion. Where you couldn't feel pain. Where it was all okay. It was just you and the drink. Soon, I ran out of it. So I move onto try other alcohols. When I found they had the same result, I found my escape from the world.
Some nights, when I couldn't even find a drop of it, and was left sober, I grew angry. And cried. And kicked and screamed. Those days were the worst because they pulled me back to reality. A place I didn't want to be at all costs.
Then, about seven months in I met her. Jen. Jen the Prostitute. She was in the same state that I was in. We understood each other. She's my best friend. My only one. Jen wouldn't drink. Never. But, she had a severe problem with drugs. The boozer and the junkie they called us. She was the same age that I was, so we were like those BFF's you meet in high school. Except, it wasn't EXACTLY like that.
We supported each other, because we knew no one else would. Soon, my alcohol units had died down a vast amount and she was hardly ever stoned, like, once every two or three weeks. That's huge for whoever's going "Ooo two or three weeks, that's easy, I could do that, no bother" I protected her and she protected me, after a few months, she wouldn't even go near the coke and I would do the same with any alcohol. But, old habits die hard, and from time to time I still have a drink or two.
She went back to her job of prostituting. It wasn't much of one, but it paid well, she said. I made us a shelter, in an alleyway behind a few deserted houses. We didn't dare go into the houses. What if someone bought them one day and found us. We did raid them though, well...I did. Life was...terrible, but it was the best type of terrible there could be.
Then, one night, they took her away. My Jen. My best friend. She was caught prostituting without a permit, or something, and was taken into jail. Then she beat up one of the guards which got her into even more trouble. She had always had a temper. I missed her and still do, some days, when they're let out into the courtyard and I happen to be in town. I call her over and we exchange a few words, mixed with tears. I was angry, but happy, in a way, at least I was sure she will be safe in there. I didn't understand why they would take her away. It made me mad.
I started to drink again. Not as much as before, but still drink. Our predictions came true and people started buying the houses and moving in. They built a supermarket. That brought in a lot of people. Our shelter kept getting looted and I was attacked a good few times.
And that brings me to the present. I'm lying, curled up in an alleyway after being beaten, bashed, and kicked by a gang of little eighteen year old pr*cks that think they can do sh*t to me. By this point, I don't even bother fighting back.
And that, my friends, is where my fairy tale, wait more like non-fairy tale begins.
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HEYO!
Leeloo here!
Yes, JUST Leeloo this time!=O
This is something I've been wanting to do for a while....but never got around to doing it=P
It's different than what I usually do, so let's hope it works out=D
If you read this I love you more than anything!
VOTE, COMMENT AND SHARE
AS TESCO SAYS, "EVERY LITTLE HELPS!"
