I hate hoping. Hope is the most deceiving of feelings. It sets you high, so high that when you get hit by the hard reality, you fall so brutally and the only thing left for you is a sense of dullness.
I asked myself many times, what did I do to deserve to be in a place like this? A place that takes from you giving nothing back. A place where they expect you to act in your best behaviour while they steal your body, your candour and your happiness.
Shaking my head, attempting to ward off all the hassling thoughts roaming inside my head, I grab my white towel and head to the bathroom. Everything in this place is unfamiliar. Even though I've lived here for five long years, this place is still lacking warmth.
For a long time, I've seen nothing but the same walls, the same men that kept coming back because they couldn't get enough of claiming bodies that would never be willingly given to them.
For five years I've seen the faces of girls that were betrayed by their loved ones, girls that lost everything because they had hope, girls that were victims of the evilness of the human being.
I enter the bathtub and turn on the shower, setting it on the hottest level. The hot water is stinging my skin, but not a snivel escapes from my lips. I'm used to it. It's the only way I'm able to feel clean after their unbidden hands touch my body and their aberrant eyes set on my naked figure. Nothing makes me feel dirtier than that and if some warm water can help me feel less unclean, so be it.
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𝐅𝐔𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐀
Romance𝐅𝐔𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐀: 𝑖𝑛 𝑤𝒉𝑖𝑐𝒉 𝒉𝑒 𝒉𝑒𝑙𝑝𝑠 𝒉𝑒𝑟 𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑝𝑒. /Fug·gi·tì·va/ Adjective. -❁ Someone who tries to save themself or has recovered their freedom by fleeing. ════ ୨♡୧ ════ For five years, I was treated like nothing but a piece...