Hannah (never finished story)

from August 2004. I know I wrote more of it since then, but couldn’t find it. It’s about prostitution, and is graphic. Trigger warning.
On a tape recorder.

Look, I’ll try not to bullshit you, so just listen. Please. I won’t take up too much of your time. I’m just really, really tired. And cold. And sad. Yet words don’t even begin to describe what happens to a poor, strung-out, cheap whore. Yeah. That’s what I am. When a chick’s poor and hungry and hurt it’s easy to get her to sell herself.
I’m not exactly what you’d want your kids to be associated with. Who wants to know a virtual sperm bank?
Your sons, that’s who. And your fathers. And your husbands. And your boyfriends. And your male friends. They like it dirty and cheap. They like me dirty and cheap. A lot of them hurt me, you know, beat me and tie me up and shit. But there are really sick motherfuckers out there. Like last night. This trick wanted me to pretend I was his freakin’ daughter. His 12 year old daughter. Here’s what happened:
We was standing on our corner – me and my friends, Evelyn and Zach. They fuck for cash, too. Evelyn got into it when she was sixteen by her boyfriend, Jeff. He fucked her on their second date – and I mean fucked, not made love or any other flowery bullshit. He tore her up inside. Made her suck his cock. Ignored her tears. Guess he was training her. Then her made her quit school when she was on the honour roll and get a job in some sleazy strip joint. That’s where he got her into it. First he had a bunch of guys pull a train on her for cash, which he got, of course. Then he put her on the street on her own. She ran away, but the bastard found her and laid a beatin’ on her she’d never forget. Now she’s only 17 and she been tricking for a few months, but she’s really fucked up. If you’re willing to listen and she’s willing to tell, she’ll tell you her story.
Zach, on the other hand, is less likely to tell. I think guys are like that, they don’t like to tell nobody what happens to ’em, not even themselves. Shit, he hasn’t told me what the fuck happened and what goes on with him. But can’t say I blame him. Whoring isn’t exactly something to be proud of. You get treated like shit.
Anyhew, we were standing on the corner hooking. We had noticed that this car, blue, was driving ’round a few times, as if he weren’t quite sure he wanted to stop. Anyway, after a few times, he did. He rolled down his window. “Are you working?

Published in: on November 28, 2008 at 8:00 am  Leave a Comment