(Holy shitballs mom can the title be any longer?)
The Song Title Challenge
You give me a song and I write a short story to go along with it without listening to the song beforehand.
This challenge was given by Cain at No BS Books.
This title gave my quite an uneasy feeling so I went along with it.
Jenny looked around her and shivered. It was dark but she could only just see enough to be scared and disgusted. All around her were people: young, old, white, black and everything in between.
“All are welcome here,” she thought as she tried to wrap her old jacket even more tightly around her.
She tried not to notice the things that were happening in the room. The man in the far corner who was throwing up in the corner, the girl on her left who was lying eerily still. She only thought about what was to come. The feeling of bliss, the freeing minutes of heaven that could liberate her from the harsh cold that was reality.
To her right, Russell had moved closer to her as she knew he would. He moved his hands into her dirty hair and pulled himself into her. Not bothering to protest she allowed him to move on top of her. Nine weeks she had been there, and they had been very educational. Don’t scream, don’t fight. If you want to get what you need, you have to earn it. Don’t mind the people around you, they don’t notice you anyway.
She thought of her little sister, Kylie, as he moved on top of her. She was about 12 now, blonde and blue-eyed. Did she miss her? Did anyone? Were they looking for her? Or were they just glad that she was gone?
“I guess it would be best for everyone if they just moved on with their lives. I’ve made my bed and now I must lie in it.” she thought, squeezing her eyes tightly as Russel grunted above her. Her heart started beating faster as she felt his weight move off of her. She had been good, she would get her reward now. She would get to experience those few moments of peace that made all this worthwhile.
Jenny stretched out her hand toward Russell, not bothering to ask. He knew what she wanted, what she deserved, what she needed. Without looking at her he thrusts a small package into her hands.
“Don’t forget who owns you, bitch,” he sneers at her before he makes his way through the people lying at his feet.
But Jenny isn’t listening. Feverishly she’s opening the package, desperately trying to get her fingers to stop shaking. Carefully, she takes a little mirror from her pocket and drops the fine powder onto it, using the paper to divide it into two thin lines. It wasn’t much, Russell always barely gave her what she earned, but it was enough to get her through. She rolled the paper and brought it to her nose.
Once more she looked into the room. Dark, damp, depressing. The epitome of hopelessness.
“We are all fools,” she thought as she before allowing herself to succumb. “We are all fools of damnation.”
And with that Jenny, 17 years old, sank into the darkness. It was deceiving her, for although it felt like life, it brings only death. Carrying her away was the embrace that smothers.