Little Lady // Erik Durm

1. Dark Room

She's become so good at this, to walk down those cemented streets of Dortmund. As if she was a normal woman, no back story. Maybe she was finally a normal person. But whatever she did behind closed doors was her business. But between the shadows of the streets she was normal.

"A man came asking for you again.", the tendent of her flat complex informed her.

"You told them I wasn't here, right Trish?", she asked, approaching her. 

"I told them you moved out.", Trish said looking at her. "Ailene, you got to stop this."

"I have.", Ailene said lying to her, you could tell, when you looked into her green eyes. They read of, lies and distrust. "I have to go now Trish, hug the little ones for me.", She said giving trish a warm smile. She walked up the stairs, reaching her flat. Taking her key out she unlocked her door.

She lied a lot, Ailene, the girl with scars. Not so much on the exterior but interiorly, she told no one of her true intentions. Never letting anyone in because she knew it would be a recipe for disaster. If she let someone in, it would be like broken glass on the floor. Then all she would be doing is walking on it and cutting herself every time she took a step. 

Her flat consisted of, two bedrooms, a livingroom, kitchen, and a bathroom.

Two bedrooms?

One for her work. The other to sleep. 

The one for work was black, she painted all the walls black. The only light seeping into the room was a single window that hung above the bed. A skylight, the only good thing about the room. If she looked up while her back lay on that mattress, her naked back, she could see a bit of light in the day. The light would give her hope that maybe there was some kind of god that could help her. In the night the stars strung out riddles, they wrote out a map. A map that led to nothing, but still gave her a slight hope for something. 

There was supposed to me a man coming soon, he was supposed to show him "a good time". She was supposed to take it. Not say a word, but release a moan here and there, although she didn't enjoy it. But she had done it so many times, the feeling become monotone. She didn't feel a damn thing, but remorse. All she felt was an empty feeling of helplessness. 

She was changing, slipping on a black lace underwear. Making sure to not look at herself in the mirror. If she looked at herself in the mirror she would feel disgusted, even more disgusted than she already felt. She changed into the black lace bra. Then her red silk robe, where she could hide her sinful attributes. Her bruises that where tattooed on her skin, that scar she got when she was thirteen years old, when she tried running away but she fell on a piece of glass. She was running away from the very man who taught her to be this way. Her uncle. But she never spoke of him, she rarely even talked to anyone. 

At twenty one, she was crumbling. But she showed no signs of distress or debris of the pieces of her life. 

A knock on the door, there it was. It began, the mask she was to put on, a mask that read nothing. But a blank face. 

 As she did she lured them in like a cat does to a mice, slowly, sneakingly. Then all at once. As she led him to the Dark room, closing the door shut. The light off, the only light was the one of window.

As he pushed her back, her back hitting the mattress, she looked around the room with her eyes, she never looked at the man in the eyes. All she saw around her was Darkness. Finally her eyes looking up at the ceiling, looking up at the window, the sun shinning on her face. As the man caressed her skin, as he touched it, and she lay there. Pretending it was the best night of her life, pretending she was enjoying the tortures moment. How he took every piece of clothing off, left her naked. Like a rose with no petals. How he unbuttoned his shirt, how he threw it to the floor. Then there was his pants, he unbuckled them, pooling beneath his feet. His boxers coming off soon after. Then there it was two roses with no petals. He got on top of her, his fingertips, touched every single corner of her body. The way the plastic wrapper was thrown to the floor, how he just welcomed himself in. But it wasn't an invitation, it was more like an invasion. How in a matter of minutes, it all ended. How those minutes ended with her trying to cover up her naked body, how it ached every time. How she lay there shielding her body, while the man picked up his clothes. He changed into his clothes, leaving the money at the edge of the bed. Then just like that, with a blink of an eye, with a slam of a door, they where gone.

She was left with a guilty conscious, with disgust. She grabbed the robe that was on the floor then went to the door, locking the door. She went to the dark room, picked up the money from the edge of the bed. Closed the door of the room, locking it with a key. She never really cleaned it, just the sheets. She never wanted to change a single aspect of that room. For it was the room of her sins. She wanted to remind herself of what she was doing, a reminder that she should quit.

She went to her bedroom, looking beneath her bed. Grabbed the shoe box that had her money. Putting the money in there. Hidding it beneath there again. She went to her closet grabbing clothes, and her garments. Walking over to her bathroom, putting the clothes on top of the toilet seat. She turned on the faucet water, hot enough steam came out. She let the robe pool down beneath her feet. She kicked it out her way, entered the shower. That's when she let the hot water devour her. How it burned her skin, but she didn't mind. She let it burn her, and in that moment of hurt and despair, she began to cry. She stood there and cried.

She knew that she was a whore, they all knew of her business. For her uncle made sure everyone knew that she sold her body for money. But he was gone now and she wanted to stop the luring men from coming. She couldn't hide her emotions with make-up anymore. She was tired of this job, she wanted a change of career. No one could help her, not her dead mother or father. Just herself. But she's been doing this for so long, she doesn't know what else to do. But lay there in the dark room and take it, but she wants to win this. She wants to be born again.

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A/N: So tell me what you think of this one! I'm trying it out by doing it in third person.