Chapter 1

Chapter 1 --- Zoe

I knocked back my second whiskey. I relished the burn as it made it's way to eating a hole in my gut. I left the shot glass on the bar and signaled for another as I got up and made my way to the dingy bathroom at the back of the hole in the wall. I loved the scars that matched my soul in the wood.

After I cleaned up as best as could be expected, I took a minute to just look at myself in the mirror over the sink with the years of grime around the edges. I leaned close hoping the dark makeup ringing my 19 year old eyes would hide the bags and bruises.

Courtesy of my "manager", as he liked to call himself, nothing changed the fact that he was my pimp. And he was losing patience with me as evidenced by my busted lip. If I didn't come up with his money by the end of the night I could kiss my pathetic existence goodbye.

I took the baggie out of my purse and scooped a bump into my pinkie. I snorted it before I let myself think too hard about it and shivered from head to toe as I felt the chemicals numb my brain.

I hated me. I was too sallow. Too skinny. Too broken. And that was just the outside. Lesser humans couldn't handle my demons. Hence the drugs. Anything to forget. Part of me hoped one day I'd be healed enough to quit. The laugh that escaped my throat sounded hollow and mirthless as my eyes glazed over.

I rubbed more crimson stain over my full pouty lips, popped and pouted in the mirror. I briefly glanced at the thrift store bandage dress that barely covered my small assets, turned on my stiletto and threw my shoulders back as I left my doubt behind.

This was my life. After 10 years in the life, you'd think I'd have done the smart thing and given up hope. But there was some stubborn part inside of me that clung to the idea of making it just a little longer. I didn't know what I was waiting for but I could feel it coming. My gut feelings kept me alive. So I'd be patient, get Mikey his money, and just fucking keep going.