Superhuman

~Laloni (lay·lon·é)~

I stared intently at the half full bottle of pills, contemplating my next move. I had no desire in taking only two as the instructions directed, but I was also too pussy to even think about popping more.

A loud bang on the door, made me jump back, nearly dropping the unknown pills down the drain. I hurriedly closed the capsule and stuffed them back into their rightful spot inside of the mirror. I flushed the toilet and pretended to wash my hands. "Hurry up hoe, I ain't pay yo ass for nothing." I sniffed quietly, and fixed my face. My makeup was slightly running down my cheeks, but I'm sure the random Joe out there was too high to even notice. When I finally walked out of the bathroom, the man was standing there with an angry expression. He grabbed me by my weave and slung me on the bed. I wanted to cry so bad but I didn't. This was my life now.

It's all I've ever known, and although no one was technically holding a gun to my head, making me have sex with these niggas, I still felt obligated to do so. It was my responsibility, my daddy told me that himself. The man who's name I couldn't think of to save my life, tightly grabbed my neck, dragging me to the edge of the bed. He unbuckled his pants and pulled his dick out, attempting to force it down my throat. I kept my mouth closed and squirmed around, earning a nice burning slap to the face. I gasped in pain, and he took the opportunity to shove himself into my mouth. I may have been a prostitute, but I never ever sucked dick. I made that very clear, and for this to be happening made tears weld up in my eyes.

The only thought that crossed my mind besides dying was how much I hated my father. I hate him so much.

(Next Morning)

As soon as my eyes opened, I hopped out of the bed, careful not to wake the man up. He was stupid enough to bring me to his nice home, so I figured a little redecorating was needed.

I pulled my clothes on and grabbed my duffle bag, tossing all kinds of nice shit inside. Rule #1- Neverbringastrangertotheplaceyoulayyourhead. Especially if your going to treat them like a rag doll the night before. I scrunched my nose up at the thought, entirely disgusted with myself. If I wasn't such a scaredy cat, I wouldn't be in this bullshit to begin with.

I bent over to get my shoes from the side of the bed, but stopped once my eyes landed on a Nike shoe box. I furrowed my eyebrows, quietly pulling it towards me . I opened it, looking inside. There was a silver pistol, three racks, a piece of paper with the name Malcolm Johnson in bold letters, and a dozen pre-rolled L's. "Hm, this shit could come in handy." I mumbled, to myself, dumping everything except the letter into my bag. I figured I could at least leave him that, although he didn't deserve anything from me.

I sighed getting up, and grabbing the Truk Fit hoodie hanging on the door. I pulled it over my head, while leaving the room. I ran down the stairs and out the house, hoping to catch the next bus before he woke up noticing all his shit was gone. "Things will get better 'Loni. It has to."