Live from the gutter
Life is funny, the way things turn out. Sometimes all the promise in the world is not enough to keep you away from those dark alleyways. Steam rising from the subway can intoxicate a young girl, promising so many dreams of adventure in the wide world. Promises... dreams... fading like daisies left on the sidewalk in the sun.
How long ago was it, the first time? You had stepped on the stage so cautiously, unsure of yourself. You had the voice of an angel. They all said so. When the slick man walked up to you offering his card, dreams dripping out from his lips to your ear, it tugged at you ambitions. Dreams...
Then came the first time Jack, your new manager with a silver tongue, hired you out. You thought you would be singing. You thought you were on your way to freedom. You had no idea you had just taken the off-ramp to hell. The client made moves on you, and as soon as you figured it out you kneed him in the crotch and ran.
Jack had not been pleased.
"What the hell were you doing T?"
"Protecting myself!"
He stared at you for a second. "Do you have any idea how much money I have spent on you? How many establishments have requested you to sing? How many?"
Jack grabbed you by the back of the head, making you gasp. His breath reeked of garlic.
"I'm not your whore!" You yell.
Dreams fade into steam.
"You're whatever I want you to be." Then Jack punched you in the face. You still struggle to remember the rest of that afternoon. It took you three days to be able to get out of bed.
Fear is a terrible thing. You learned how to be what people wanted you to be, and you kept singing. Always singing, like an angel. Hoping for god to free you.
Today started drastically different. When you entered the dive that passed for Jack office, the dusty floor had been coated with something sticky and brown. Then you saw Jack...
Or what was left of him. Someone had wasted a lot of energy beating the man to a pulp. You couldn't tell if they had shot him a few times as well, but in this neighborhood, everyone suffered hearing loss.
The phone on Jack's desk begins to ring.
How long ago was it, the first time? You had stepped on the stage so cautiously, unsure of yourself. You had the voice of an angel. They all said so. When the slick man walked up to you offering his card, dreams dripping out from his lips to your ear, it tugged at you ambitions. Dreams...
Then came the first time Jack, your new manager with a silver tongue, hired you out. You thought you would be singing. You thought you were on your way to freedom. You had no idea you had just taken the off-ramp to hell. The client made moves on you, and as soon as you figured it out you kneed him in the crotch and ran.
Jack had not been pleased.
"What the hell were you doing T?"
"Protecting myself!"
He stared at you for a second. "Do you have any idea how much money I have spent on you? How many establishments have requested you to sing? How many?"
Jack grabbed you by the back of the head, making you gasp. His breath reeked of garlic.
"I'm not your whore!" You yell.
Dreams fade into steam.
"You're whatever I want you to be." Then Jack punched you in the face. You still struggle to remember the rest of that afternoon. It took you three days to be able to get out of bed.
Fear is a terrible thing. You learned how to be what people wanted you to be, and you kept singing. Always singing, like an angel. Hoping for god to free you.
Today started drastically different. When you entered the dive that passed for Jack office, the dusty floor had been coated with something sticky and brown. Then you saw Jack...
Or what was left of him. Someone had wasted a lot of energy beating the man to a pulp. You couldn't tell if they had shot him a few times as well, but in this neighborhood, everyone suffered hearing loss.
The phone on Jack's desk begins to ring.