“Go get ready!”
“Bitch, I will choke you out and kill you, you hear me? I did it to your mother and I’ll do it to you, too!”
“Get your ass going!”
“O-okay, I’m fucking going!”
“Where the dough at?”
“Gimme that! Alright, let’s see… yeah, yeah… fuck yeah! Alright, cool. Fine, you did alright today. Ha ha! Fat fuck was richer than he looked. Come on; we’re heading back home.”
My name’s Ashley or, to all my “clients,” I was Lexxli… I was many things to them – a porn actress, a stripper, a whore, a go-go dancer, a slave… a prisoner. My “boss” drove us up to the old decadent house in a small, white-trash where people didn’t ask questions. The boss-man, a tall, lanky wannabe gangster, took me out of the passenger seat and hurried me inside.
I caught him looking around the house suspiciously as if someone else was in this shithole besides him and me. There used to be women in the house – others that worked for this man. My mother was one of them. She’s not here anymore. The other women aren’t either.
The “boss” – let’s stop calling him that already – the pimp took me downstairs, into the dark, damp, dank basement.
“N-no!” begged I, trying my best to delay descending downstairs. “Not back in there! Please, just anywhere but there! Not the cage again!”
My cheek red, the pimp pulled me down and put me in a large jail-like cage in the center of the basement, throwing me on the cold floor. I shivered and shuddered, my eyes cast downward as I heard the cage door slam shut and the pimp ascend the stairs.
I raised my head and I dreaded what I knew I was cursed to see: the mangled corpses of the previous women the pimp’s kept, including my mother. They all laid in a pile, decomposed and charred from repeated attempts at burning them away. I couldn’t turn away; each time I saw her still face, I could never turn away.
The pimp said he was going to get more, that he was planning to bring more women into this. He often told me I was his best “worker.” That was always right before he forced himself on me.
“How long have I been here? How long have we been doing this, Mom?” I thought to myself as I hugged my legs and lowered my head onto my knees.
My mother told me that she had me as the result of a previous client. We were always hard for money and we would have to run with guys like this to survive. My mother was nice, though. She had a great smile and she would listen to you talk – really looked you in the eyes and made you feel like you mattered. She was also very protective of me and hated the idea of me ever doing what she had to do.
It was soon, though, that she didn’t have a choice and at the age of 10, I was forced to help Mom scrap by. Then, six years later, I was just sitting here, wondering where I fucked up in life for karma to hit me so hard.
“I’m sorry, Mom…” I whispered in the darkness. I kept my eyes on her face – her beautiful, charred face – and reached out, my hand trembling. “I hope you’re in a better place… if there’s a better place for us to go to…”
My mother’s memory flashed through my head and I remembered, throughout the nightmares of the struggle and hustle, her urging me of one thing:
“Stay alive, Ash. Do you whatever you have to do, hurt whoever you have to hurt, and manipulate whoever you have to manipulate, but just stay alive. Got it?”
A deep sigh escaped me and I steadied myself, staring at my mother in clearer clarity than I ever have before. I nodded to my mother’s charred face, sat in a corner, and waited.
It didn’t take long for the pimp to come back down with some gasoline and a match. He saw the bodies, he saw the cage, but he didn’t see me.
“The fuck? Where’d she go…?” The man set the gasoline and match down before opening the door and stepping inside, profoundly confused. That’s when I sprang up from my hiding spot in the bodies and sprinted out the jail cage.
“Hey!” he exclaimed and tried to run after me.
But it was too late. He ran against the bars, grabbing them, and hissing at me.
“You bitch! Let me out of here right now! When I’m done with you, there won’t be a single piece of skin left on you!”
I smiled at him because I knew – I knew – he was all bitch and no bark. I reached down for the gasoline, picked up the can and the match, and turned to the bars.
“Wh-what the fuck are you doing? Hey, quit playing with that shit! PUT IT DOWN NOW!”
I ran all around the bars, pouring every last drop of gasoline onto those accursed floors, lit the motherfucking match, and threw it on.
“Wha… no! NO! AHHHH! IT BURNSS! IT BURNS! PUT IT OUT! PLEASE, PLEASE! I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY! HELP! AHHHHHH!!!!!”
I watched him burn, I watched him bleed, and I watched him die slow. Should I be ashamed to say that I smiled fiercely? Because I did, and I continued to smile as I ascended those stairs to freedom, leaving everything behind to burn.
Original Image: http://hdwallpaperfun.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/Fire-Burn-Hi-Res-Wallpapers-63240.jpg