Page 4 of Drowned In Silence

I can’t seem to get my thoughts in order– everything in me is telling me to disappear. Yet, at the same time, all I want to do is find my knife and lie down in my bed.

Degraded.

Dehumanized.

Defiled.

This isn’t what I thought would happen when I grew up. I thought it would stop, that someone would get a fucking brain and realize what they were doing. That maybe my Mother would have died sooner and maybe my Father would have followed in her footsteps. Maybe I would have been placed into foster care, and I wouldn’t be trying to survive on the streets. Alone.

But I’m not that lucky.

I scrub my body with the only washcloth that still doesn’t smell like mildew. My toes and fingers feel like ice cubes, so cold that if I scrub too hard, they might shatter into a million little shards. My hand dips between my legs as I wash myself. I’m tender and raw, but I wash myself anyway.

I wish I could wash my body in this cold water until I froze to death. Maybe then I would turn into a million shards. I would have no problem fitting down the drain. Washed away like tears in a rainstorm. I chuckle to myself. Tears in a shower. How fucking fitting.

My thoughts are interrupted by knocking on the door. “Hurry up and get out. You have someone waiting!”

I roll my eyes but do as she says. Sabrina is in the same work-force that I am and we always try to watch each other's back. Throwing the rag over the half-broken assist handle, I shudder at the splat it makes. Everything about this motel gives me the creeps– gives me the icky feeling inside my gut.

If only I could leave. If only I could get out of this place. Stepping out of the shower, I dress myself in some ‘fresh’ clothes. The itchy fabric rubs against my now-raw skin, and I can imagine I will have a rash tomorrow by the time I take it off.

Looking in the cracked mirror, I see a stranger staring back at me. The bags under my eyes haunt my reflection, thestringy hair on my head sticking to my sunken face. I stare at myself, the reflection almost looks like it’s sneering at me, making fun of the life that has been made for me. I quickly look away, scared of myself.

I have to run. I need to leave this fucking place before I’m stuck here forever.

A new guy enters the room as I take the towel off of my head.

“Hurry up and lay down. If you don't move faster I'm going to pull out my dick right here and piss on you,” he busts out laughing. “And you won’t be able to take a fucking shower afterwards.”

Grimacing, I pad back to the bed, carefully shutting the bathroom door behind me.

This room is the cleanest in the motel. Sure, the carpet is outdated and disgusting, the corners of the room are basically their own entity, but at least it's mine for right now. A mattress, a broken window, and my knife. That's all I've ever had and it's probably more than I need. At least I have a bed.

I lay down onto the bed as the man crawls on top of me. He suckles on my tit like a fucking child. I swear some of the people who end up in my room are disgusting and fucking weird. Staring up at the ceiling, I lay here like he wants me too.

The only thing I’m ever thankful for, is that I don’t have to deal with children. That’s the one thing my father did that was actually smart and not self-centered. When I had my first period, he got me on the implant so I never could get pregnant. I just wish it didn’t have to be like this.

When I gather enough money together, I’m fucking leaving. I’ll run far away from here, somewhere no one knows me. Start areallife, find someone who truly cares about me–loves me for who I really am. Someone who loves me for the person I could be if I wasn’t tied to this bed everyday.

I’ve always dreamt about the day I could leave this place. Hopefully that day comes soon, because I don’t know how much more of this I can fucking take. There has to be more to this– something different from what this is. I can’t survive being used everyday with nothing but pain and anguish in return.

Departing

Elliot

“I don’t think that’sthe right move, bro. That town is a cesspool, you never know what you could find. If the people who live there need help that bad, then we would get more requests to go there,” My brother says over the phone.

Spencer might get on my nerves once in a while, but when it comes down to business, he always comes in with some common sense.

“I don’t give a fuck, ‘bro.’ The old man on the phone explained her description and I want to check it out anyway. He said she even has a weird birthmark on her neck. She might be the girl in the photo!” I reply. I grab my wallet and keys from the kitchen counter and shove them into my pockets. Black cargo jeans may not be attractive, but they are definitely practical. I grab the mirrored mask off of the shelf near the door and the duffle bag that sits on the floor on my wayout. You never know what kind of idiots will be around these places.

“A lot of fucking females have long black hair and green eyes. Do you really think that the girl from the photo would be inthatplace? I really doubt it. If you’re so damn sure of it, then I will go too. I don’t want you going to that shitty town by yourself. Deal?”

I give him a warning from the back of my throat, but don’t reply directly.

“Elliot… Deal?” He repeats between his teeth.

“Accepted. You’re probably the only one I won’t kill for being an asshole once in a while. How long do you think it will take to meet me at my house?”

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