The afterglow

Chapter 1

He heaves in and out of me, my body bruising under his violent touch. I cry for him to stop, I scrape my nails into his back, I kick my feet but too no avail. He only smiles at me with yellow teeth and blistered lips, thrusting harder and more painful as more, and more hot tears whisk down my face. By now my voice is no longer in use, it lingers between a whisper and a voice crack. I lie limp on the thin mattress, my limbs giving up and flopping to the filthy sheets under me as the pace of the mans jolts began too slow. He groans loudly into my right ear, his disgusting breath catching in my nose as I attempt too stop the shaking of my own body when he pulls out. The man stands, takes the condom away from his genitalia, throws it into the trash can beside me then simply dresses and leaves.

I don't move, I lie there. My bare chest rises and falls slowly as more wet droplets stream
Down my temple, but I don't care enough to wipe them away. I stopped wiping my tears away a long time ago. I sit up eventually, looking away from the rolls that my stomach create when I sit up right, yet I stare down at the bruises and scrapes that decorate my skin. I release a shaky sigh, crawling too the chair beside me in order to dress myself, not trusting my frail legs to allow me to stand. I tug on the loose basketball shorts and tank top, silently wishing I could afford clothes that would cover the scars and markings that seemingly never left. Finally I regain enough strength too stand, cringing at the pain that elicits from my bottom and limping too the small desk and picking up the money the man left.

36$

I shuffle to the sink near by, turning the faucet to the left and watching the water run. I place my hands under the cool water and splash the liquid onto my tear stained face. I look up at the dingy mirror and grimace my reflection, scanning over the battered skin, blooded lips and sad eyes. I dry my face with a towel before clothing my arms with a thin jacket, tying my filthy and old sneakers onto my feet before exiting the room. I shrink against the wall as others lead their clients into their rooms, all of them glancing at me with pitied eyes as I return the favor. Brisk wind greets me when I open the doors too the outside, slipping out and beginning my route to the place I called home. People littered the streets, most not paying me any attention whilst others looked at me with eyes that held disgust and occasionally pity.

I run into few people, my habit carrying on. Some using harsh tones and others simply ignoring my presence. I walk down a some what desolated alley way, spotting few homeless strangers that I've seen many times before. I arrive at an old abandoned building, pulling the fire escape latter down and beginning my climb up, keeping my whimpers in pain low and quiet. My knuckles were white form clinging to the metal bars, my body swaying slightly in the harsh gusts of air as I tug my jacket closer to my body with one hand.

When entering the dusty building, sliding through a once winded and into what used to be a conference room, I make my way too the so called 'bed' I made out of clothes and crusty old pillows left around. I crouch onto the pile, wincing at the recurring bolts of pain that shot up every once and a while. I tip over and fall against cobwebs and dirt, puffing out a loud sigh and letting it echo off the empty walls. I stay there until dark, knowing my second job starts soon. It may seem odd working as a prostitute during the day but you'd be surprised how many clients walk in asking for 30 minutes or more, willing too dirty themselves with one of us, so called "whores."
I pick myself up, dusting off my clothes and walk too the left over windows that happened to stay in tact, looking out at the bright city. Time seems to fly by when you are always alone, yet it can slow at the worst possible points in life.

I gather myself, and crawl down the latter once again. I mutter a greeting too the friendly homeless elderly woman who sat comfortably in front of a fire, her smile wide and motherly. My legs move as fast as I can make them, the coldness biting into my skin and making shivers rip into my back. I soon find myself in front of a dark bar, swiftly going inside to escape the outside. The manager waved at me from the other side of the small bar room, I return the favor and sneak away too the work room. At this job I am a waiter for the people who rather sit at the tables than stand at the bar, in which I am not allowed to go behind considering I am 19. Not that it means the bartender doesn't slip me alcohol every now and then.

The building filled quickly, chatter and music filling the place. I began taking orders and know one questions the busted lip and bruised cheek bone, nor the near bloody hickies that burn into my neck. I am quite thankful that this job has a uniform, blessing me with the opportunity to wear long sleeves and jeans that cover my skin. As people laugh and talk all around me, I walk up too a table that I have yet to serve. I instantly freeze, my eyes transfixed on the man that sat so casually at the table, a smile playing at his lips and his own soft brown eyes pasted on the seemingly younger male beside him. "Taehyung..?" The name slips past my pulsing lips before I can stop myself, his head snaps too me and then our eyes lock together. "Oh...hey Jimin" He smiles and suddenly everything becomes dizzy, I hear ringing in my ears and I began to sweat. The only friend I have had is 3 feet away from me, the one who left me in tears for Jungkook, and he smiles.

I feel my stomach churn, my vision blurs and I let myself slip. And before I fade into black,
I can here his voice. His deep voice invades me, fills my bones and drains the blood from my veins, I can taste it on my tongue.

Then I drift.