Ryssa

Hej, det är meningen att jag ska skriva en presentation här.. Jag tänkte skriva en del av en historia som jag skrivit istället; och vill du läsa mer så får du gå in på min och min kära vän Glingais användarsida på deviantart. www.malamutevisp.deviantart.com!


Dear Mother and Father.

I know I said I would write soon but time kind of got away from me. I don't even know where to start...
Last time I wrote you a letter I was 18 years old, well now I'm 22 years old and have a kid. I didn't plan on it, and he doesn't really have a father. I mean he has, but he isn't in the picture. It was around one and a half years after I wrote you my first letter. I thought everything was going smoothly. I had a job, the salary was bad; but it was still a job. I had my small apartment and I had made a couple of friends. Hell, I had even started seeing this one boy. Not that it matters.

Mom. Dad. My life went down hills from there. I lost my job, the store went out of business and I tried to find a new one but no one would hire me, so I gave up the apartment and crashed at a friend's place for about a month or so before she said I couldn't live there anymore and that I had to move out. So, after thanking her for letting me stay so long as she let me I moved out and slept at different friends every night, and when I couldn't stay at a friend's place I slept at a local shelter. The smell and moist of that shelter is forever in my mind. I will never lose the feeling from that one experience.

Moving on.. One night two years ago I was out and about, trying to find somewhere to stay for the night, trying to find some place with not too pricy food. I know they serve food at the shelter; but there are people who needs it more than I, and also I really don't like the food there. However, most of the restaurants were closed since it was after midnight and since it was Saturday I could easily sneak into some of the bigger pubs or bars, the guard wouldn't notice me with all the commotion going on from their drunk guests. (I usually find somewhere to sleep in this way, hitting on guys at the bars that is.) On this particular night I was on my way to my "favorite" bar down in the quarters when someone snatched me into an ally.

It was dark, and I was scared. The one who'd snatched me from the street pressed me up against a brick wall and told me, in a very hostile voice, to keep my mouth shut. I can still, at some nights, feel his drunken breathe on my face. My hands were held together somewhere over my head and I felt someone put some cold metal against my head, just above my ear. I started to cry, not knowing, and yet knowing exactly, what would happen.
The man in front of me started pulling in my shirt, ripping it in pieces. He then lifted my bra, he didn't remove it he just put it above my breast so that he could access them. Bending his head down he bit them, sucked them and licked them, I cried some more, begging him quietly to stop; the only response I got was a slap across my cheek. When I started moving his hands down towards my jeans his friends, with the gun, dropped it to the ground to that he too could play with me. His hands still holding mine in place.

Det finns en fortsättning, och det är bara en del mitt i den, men ja..

Vi hörs.