Into the Alley

She took a deep inhale from the cheap cigarette before blowing it out through her nose in the cold air. Huddled tight under the threadbare coat she wore, she shivered, waiting desperately for the bus. She was new to the city, like many before her, there to escape her past. Here, among the swath of masses, she hoped that she could lose herself. Here, no one could find her, know her, shame her. Her jeans had earned their rips and tears honestly, no cosmetic tweaks for her Salvation Army clothing. She exhaled again, coughing in a fit, stubbing out the addiction between her fingers. She'd quit smoking but it was her sole enjoyment and she had cried the last time she had thought about quitting. Without it, she'd have a bit more money and nothing else. So she stuck to her one vice.

She looked up down the street and then her phone, cracked and 4 years old. Even after being charged, it was down to 10% and would be dead soon. Nothing of hers worked well and it was another expense she couldn't afford. The economy was supposedly good but all she could find was minimum wage jobs and even the most basic decent apartment was well outside her price range. So she lived a block away, in a rat infested hellhole, scared every night of the sounds she heard. Random screams, crying, fucking, arguments, all easily heard through her paper thin walls. How can you be surrounded by millions and yet, be so alone?

She watched as a large man walked up to the bus stop. Most people she could ignore or ignored her, but she'd seen him before. He leered. He was one of those who not only undressed you with their eyes, but didn't care if you knew it. She hated him so much. He reminded her of her stepdad. He had those same eyes, eyes and hands that drove her here. The last few times he had been around, she'd not been alone. This evening however, it was just the two of them. She looked at her phone again, down to 7% now, and still no bus despite being 5 minutes late.

It was then she felt him. On the open street there was no reason for him to be so close, but he was right behind, stepping into her, his crotch pushing into her ass as he reached around and forcefully cupped her breast, pulling her against him. She should have screamed, she should have slapped or pulled away, but to her shame, she froze. Just like with her stepdad, she froze. She felt his disgusting breath on her ear as he leaned in and whispered to her.

"I thought I had you pegged right, bitch. Your eyes had that wounded victim look all over," he whispered as she trembled, crying softly. He continued to knead her breasts, both in his hands now, jerking her tattered coat away from her chest. His hardness poked roughly at her threadbare jeans as his lips brushed her neck. "That's it. Just relax. I even have some money for you. You need money dont'cha whore?" he said, as he turned her away from the bus stop towards the dark alley behind them.

"Please...," was all she could whimper as the numbness took over once again. Her heart raced but her mind was blank as the stranger gently led her back that way. She knew his type alright and despite the lack of force, the violence was curled taunt, ready to spring if she spoke up. He wasn't asking; her choice only consisted of violence or no violence. Her hot tears felt like steam as they slid down her cold face. She stumbled a couple times over trash as one hand gripped the back of her neck, the other now mauling her right tight, making it ache and her nipple sore.

"Pull down those shitty pants whore. Just relax and it'll be over soon," he told her. He dropped a $50 bill on the snowed over dumpster before her, before gripping her chin and jerking it violently towards him. "Don't be stupid, drop the pants," he asked her. "Asked". She knew it wasn't a choice and numbly undid the button, unzipping her pants, and shivering as she dropped them to her ankles. She could feel his hands immediately on her ass, a finger poking through the torn hole of her panties. Then he jerked them down as well.

"Bend over, and brace yourself. This is easy money. I know girls like you. You've all whored yourself one way or another."

She grimaced at the truth in his statement. He didn't hold any special insight, likely just trying to insult her, but he had spoken true. First time was a blowjob for a stranger who bought her a fifth of vodka at 18. Then fucking her dealer so she could get high after her stepdad's visits and go away. Then, finally, a trucker took her to the city. For a price of course. She was a whore, she thought, as she felt him spit on her, pushing his thumb into her cunt, then gliding over her ass. The snow on the dumpster froze her hands as he gripped her, felt his cock, pushing, as she screamed.

"No, no please god, not there!" she blurted out before he covered her mouth, pushing and grunting as she struggled. He smashed her face into the snow covered dumpster as he popped into her ass. She cried and shuddered as he pumped deeper into her, her struggles easing, crying, pink snow melting under her face. She clung to the dumpster, the only real thing in her world at the moment, as she once again had her ass raped. It was her stepdad all over again and she wanted to vomit as he thrust violently into her. Her chest heaved, breaking into erratic convulsions as he fucked her. No, as he fucked it. She knew she wasn't a her to him, just a thing. An it. And she hated herself for allowing herself to be one.

Before long, he spurted in her guts, pulling out. She looked ahead, her forehead bleeding, eyes blank as he shoved her to her knees and into her mouth. She knew the foul taste and she could only think of "Daddy" as the man used her mouth to clean her shit off of him. He then pulled away, patted her head like a dogs, and walked away, leaving her there. After several minutes she finally stood up, relieved that the now wet money was still there. She pulled up her wet pants and panties to see the bus driving off and slowly, painfully, walked back to her apartment. Her phone was at 0%. When she got home, she didn't shower, but curled up, crying, and like with her stepdad before him, touching herself to remind herself that she could still feel.

Two Weeks later....

She climbed out of bed, throwing on her clothes and fixing her hair in the bathroom before walking out. She stepped softly, careful not to wake her landlord as she left his bedroom. She touched her swollen lip from where he had hit her, on accident he had said. It was never an accident. But he wasn't going to kick her out now anymore. Not this week at least. She walked outside of the building, pulling out a pack and lighting up, taking a deep drag as she walked down the street. It was still early, or late, depending on one's point of view. She pulled out her purse, thumbing through the few bills there and shook. She was so tired and she would never go home again. She would find some way to get by, she always did. She stubbed out the remains of her cigarette and pulled another out, impatiently waiting for the bus.

Down the street, she saw a familiar figure, heading down the street, apparently drunk. She saw recognition flash on his face as his pace quickened. She gave up on the bus, standing up and walking away, down into the alley, where he, and many other men in the future, would follow.