K for Kissing

Her screams echoed in the lonely room as he tugged viciously at her hair.
"Just fucking take it, you bloody slut. You're not worth a shit," he spat at her.
Tears streamed from her eyes, staining her pale skin. Her skin was marked in a kaledioscope of colours... black, blue and red.
Katrina made no attempts to fight back, nor even respond. She was paid for it, right?
In such a world, who would care for a 'bloody slut' like her?
She didn't think if she died that anybody would even cry for her.
A laugh escaped from her mouth as she remembered what her mum had told her the night before she decided to jump off that building, right in front of her very eyes.
'You make me proud now Kat, don't follow me,' she had said, tears rolling from her face.
Why the fuck were all the men in the world such assholes?
Why had her father cheated on her mother like that?
Why did her mother have to leave her alone in a world like this?
'What's so funny little shit? You like it rough don't ya? Don't pretend you're so innocent,' he said, continuing his own act of pleasure.
'Are you proud of me mum?' thought Katrina. 'You all made me live like this.'
'You can see me now can't you? I hope you're proud of your little daughter.'

She had been a happy, joyful girl before everything crashed at her feet. Living in a world full of glittery hope, she had big things going for her. She grew up with all the toys she wanted, with the loving smiles of her parents.
At what point had it gotten so bad? Or was it always like that, but she was unaware because she was so happy herself?
Had she ever looked at the early signs, when her dad stopped attending the family parties? When he stopped coming home for dinner, because he had 'work'?
She had never even doubted him, after all, he must be working hard if she recieved a new car for her birthdays, right?

She didn't know that working hard had meant cheating on his mum with the fucking secretary.
'If I find that slut, I will definitely kill her,' she thought.

The man, whose name she didn't even know finished off and chucked a couple of bills on the bed.
'Here,' he said, back turned to her. 'What you love best, apart from sucking cock.'

How wrong he was. She hated having to lower herself to such a position, it was both uncomfortable, unfufilling, and everything that the bloody skank would've done to her father. And anything that they shared in common disgusted Katrina even more than the disgusting male figure, who was now proceeding to the shower.

'Fuck you bastard,' she yelled after him, picking up the scrunched up bills.

'Hah, so this is what your worth..' jeered the voice in her head.

Even she hated herself. Who would like her?

She walked over to the mirror, eyes now swollen, skin bruised, hair drenched in sweat and tears. There was nothing attractive about her, no remnants of the girl she had once been.
Her dark shining hair had lost it's lustre, now tangled and oily. Her perfectly manicured nails were now dirty and chipped.

What once was a woman at her peak, quickly fell into the wrong hands, which went into the wrong places.

Things she never knew, things she could never even fear happened.

She felt dirty, used, and violated.

By her father, her mother, and the nameless men that used her for sex. The men who needed to get their own power-fix, or to get away from their bossy-homes and instead spend their night with a whore. The unfaithful never seemed to have enough.

'Why has everyone forsaken me?'

The hum of the shower running, with the man humming an outdated tune that had been played too many times.

Buzz. Buzz.

No caller ID.

'What?' said Katrina, not in the mood for anything.

'Kat, we've got another job for you,' cooed the sugary sweet voice, which could only mean her pimp wanting to sell her to other men.

'How many should I fuck a night ay? Haven't I done enough? You're a dictator, you know?' she answered.

The sugary voice laughed, 'What do you know slut? Do you want it or not? He's offering a high price, and there's many others who're willing.'

Katrina sighed, still holding onto the bills in her hand.

'Text me the address,' she said, before hanging up.

She didn't even have time to shower or get ready, but who the fuck cares? Showers weren't going to fix the constant grime she felt, oozing from the inside out.

Her phone beeped, and the address was located in the rich part of town.

'Haa,' she thought.

Another rich business man wanting to fuck, cheating on his wife and his family. Exactly the type of man she hated. The type of man her father was... or still is. Who knows? She hadn't seen him since her mother's suicide.

..............................................................................................

Arriving outside the mansion, Katrina scoffed.
It reminded her of where she used to live... before... 'that' happened.
Standing outside the gates, she wondered how she was meant to get in at 3am.
She buzzed the door once, in case she woke up the unknowing family.

A voice whispered through the intercom, 'hold on, I'll come get you'.

So, it was really one of those cheating men.

She saw a dim light out the front, followed by a silhouette walking out the door. His face was obscured by the shadow, but he motioned for her to walk in and follow him.

He led her inside a large house, though the details were hard to see through the dark.

'Try not to wake the wife, she wouldn't like you here,' he whispered, laughing quietly.

Katrina felt her blood boiling, like she really wanted to smash his head with one of his fancy, expensive vases, but self-restraint got the better of her.

They took a couple more turns, before he dragged her into one of the rooms and pinned her onto the wall, kissing her neck passionately.

'You're so beautiful,' he said, in between the kisses.

When he looked up into her eyes, Katrina recognised them at once. Hers. His face. His body. Everything. Katrina froze, a renching feeling gripping her. She felt like throwing up right there, on his face. On him.

All these years, this is how they meet.

'What's wrong babe?' he said, stopping his attack.

'So this is how he does it,' she thought.

Disgust seeped through every cell in her body. She had no idea how to react. The urge to kill someone in her life had never been so strong. Her fists clenched tightly into two balls.

So many thoughts ran through her head.

She wanted to scream out, 'You don't recognise your fucking daughter you assholemotherfucker-'

'You don't look so good,' he said, kindly enough.

'Uh..' she managed to choke out, whilst her head was still reeling with expletives.




TO BE CONTINUED -----

Short snippets

She was long past her expiry date. Her skin was no longer young, the age visible in her eyes along with the dark smudged eyeliner. Her fake plasticy face was no longer an object of desire, but instead passerbys looked at her with disgust and pity.
She was no longer beautiful, no longer the bronzed beach babe. Her skin had given in to the years of intense tanning, and the wrinkles and freckles covered her skin.
Age never seemed to be a problem for her. She HAD BEEN young, carefree and beautiful. But it was these easy years of drinking, partying around and drug use that had eaten away at her, welcoming in the age to chip away at her beauty.
As she sat in the middle of the crowded bus, a can of Bourbon in one hand and a cigarette on the other, she felt her life slowly dissolving from her with each puff of smoke.

stuck in time; just one moment

note: im writing this in bed
there are moments in our life that are insignificant, and pass us by quickly without us even thinking about it twice. It isnt until someone brings it up that you might remember it.
Then there are those significant moments in life, that might've made a really big impact in your life, or that you thought were great and held on to.
What type of person are you? Are you living in the past or the present ?
I have always been the type of person that holds onto memories (my excuse is cause im sentimental), but what i find is that alot of the time i am living in the past, and i feel a need to compete with myself to form better memories in order to feel achieved. (maybe you think im crazy)
but i realised, that i always am living in my own shadow.
Whcih moment do you linger on ?
For a long time, i couldn't drop my memories of primary school, until something happened that i thought was better... And then i kept that in my mind as what the idea of 'fun' was.
It really reflects upon the way i live. Im the type of person, who as much as id like to deny, likes to hold on and preserve what i already have.
... Except ill probably never truely appreciate what i have at the time, until that moments past.

Point of this all: live in the present, enjoy each moment during it and not after.

A boy with depression.

It was a beautiful sunny day, blue skies with wipsy white clouds lining the sky. Everything seemed to be in a bright, cheerful mood. Even the people smiled more with the pleasing weather. It was the first spring day since three months of the dreary cold weather, although the remnants seem to linger at the shadows. The occassional gust of cold wind reminded us of what we are not to miss.
The only thing not happy seemed to be the one boy, standing alone at the bus stop. Face sullen, he kicked at the pebbles on the ground. 'Everyone seemed to happy, even the weather seemed to shout "HAPPY".' he thought.
Inside his head was another story. A dark, looming plethora of problems seemed to linger at the recesses of his mind, mingling with every aspect of his world.
Nothing seemed normal to him. Countless therapy sessions, talks with his mum and chats with his best friend seemed to do nothing.
A momentary happiness would fight the dark shadows, passing a day without thinking about it. Sometimes, it would only last a few hours. But deep down, he knew that the silence would creep into his soul, stealing the light from inside him.
The shadows were not impatient either. Sometimes, they would let him have a whole week of harmony before slowly seeping back in. Just when he thought he was imagining it all, the darkness would slowly come back. Torment him. Tease him. Reminding him that they were always there in his mind.
No matter how hard he tried to "think past it" or try to change his perspective, none of the things that other people said seemed to work. His own mind had outwitted him, knew all the shortcuts to the game. Everytime he thought around it, so had his mind.

what if..

imagine if we lived in a mute world. no speech. no sounds. only actions.

how different would everything be?

how would we percieve everything?

mm just a thought :)

a beginning of a story

The darm stork clouds were looming in the horizon, slowly devouring what was once a patchless blue sky. Tall grey skyscrapers stretched across the city, casting a shadow amongst the citydwellers. People seemed to bustle about hurriedly, like a swarm of ants in a grass field. Everybody seemed to be unaware of the storm brewing closer towards the city. Businessmen talked on their mobile phones, consumed by their careers. Schoolkids congregated in packs outside 7/11 waiting for their friends whilst talking animatedly. The occassional tourist walked around, seemingly out of place, dressed in slightly unfashionable clothing with a look of amazement on their face.
There was only one person who seemed to notice the dark gathering mass in the distance.
Sandra flicked her jet black hair back, eyeing the cloud suspiciously. There was something strange, she thought. It just didn't feel right, yet she was unsure why. Putting on her heavy backpack, she walked towards the familiar green and orange sign. All her friends were already standing outside waiting for her, and she couldn't help but feel a little joy.
"Hey Sandra, what took you so long?" asked Tanya impatiently. "Uhh, nothing. Just late," replied Sandra.