Bedside Bibles and Cum Stains

She stomped out her cigarette on the cold concrete as the black sedan pulled into view.

The sun had set along time ago and the only people remaining on the streets were those who ran them and the ones who did their bidding. She was no exception.

Sauntering up to the vehicle she asked the man inside what she could do him for, she already knew the answer. 

Wordlessly he got out and she took his hand, leading him into room number three of the seedy motel she took all her clients to. 

He didn't say much but she didn't mind, it was better that way, he was just a number, a dollar sign.  

The lamp flickered as she took off her shirt revealing bruises, old and new. She wasn't beautiful; maybe she used to be, but the streets had taken her beauty and abused it, ground it down into scars and bruises and needle marks. 

He watched as she took her place on the bed and waited for him to follow, he did not long after.

Laying there on the cum stained mattress, convulsing back and forth, she wondered if he had a wife, kids. He probably did.

Tears formed in her dead eyes and she choked them back as the man grunted and finished.

He pulled a fifty out of his wallet, threw it on the bed and then was gone as quickly as he had came.

She reached for the bible on the nightstand next to her and opened it slowly. 

There was a time when these words meant something to her, or at least she had pretended they did. Forgive me father for I have sinned....

The tears fell as she shook her head and reached into the hollowed out book to pull out her favorite needle.

Maybe once she had believed in a God, but now... this was what she worshiped. She tied a belt tight around her bicep and waited for her veins to show themselves. 

Maybe tomorrow she would change, tomorrow she would go home, tomorrow...