Love for Angela

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

Can an eighteen year old prostitute find love? Or is it too late?

Chapter 1 (v.1) - Love for Angela

Submitted: July 05, 2012

Reads: 201

Comments: 1

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 05, 2012




\"Here you go. Here's five-hundred fifty dollars. Take it, now scram,\" a sixty-something year old man says, pulling up his jeans and buttoning the top. \"Get outta here!\" he yells at me, as I scramble away. Before you judge me, I nerd to tell you first a little about me. I'm eighteen my name is Angela, and I prostitute. I know what your thinking, \"she's just a worthless little whore,\" or, \"what a slut!\" but I'm not. Well, I wish I wasn't. Both of my parents died a little less than a year ago in a fire. My grandparents took care of me and my little sister for awhile, but then they had enough of us, and made us leave. I live with my sister in a dumpy old apartment in the bad part of town now. For awhile, I had enough money saved up to take care of the two of us, but I began to run out. I looked for jobs everywhere- the local bookstore, Target, McDonald's, and many other places, but nobody would hire me- a girl just out of highschool that has never worked a day in her life. My sister and I just couldn't survive without much money anymore, so I turned to prostitution. I would do anything to be able to stop selling my body, but I just can't. I've been doing this for about four months, and it has got us by. It is very dangerous though. Every time I do anything for someone, there is a risk I might get killed, or fatally injured. I've gotten bruises, scratches, black eyes, and a broken wrist, but nothing fatal. I'm just always scared that someday - somehow - I will never come home to my sister.

I walk down the road, wrapped up in my cheap, thrift store coat, covering my skimpy little black dress, and finally reach my apartment building. I reach in my pocket to grab my keys, then open my apartment's door. \"Angela,\" I hear a groggy little voice calling,\"is that you?\" \"Yes Annie, it's me. Go back to sleep. You've got school tomorrow.\" After I say that to her, she doesn't mutter another sound. I quietly peace in to the bathroom and slip my coat and dress off. I reach on top of the toilet seat & put on what Annie left out for me - she always leaves me something to change in to for when I get home. She left me short plaid shorts, and an old grey sweatshirt that was my moms. Even though she Passed on ten months ago, I spray the perfume she used on the sweatshirt every single morning. It smelled sweet - just like roses. I just wish she was here now, so I could smell it on her and not some old sweatshirt. I miss her so much.

I rinse off my face with some cool water, then hop in the bed next to Annie. She is fast asleep. I would give anything to be her - 10 years old, innocent, sweet, kind, forgiving, smart - she is perfect. I really hope she doesn't turn out like me. I want her to have a good life. I want her to be able to go to college, fall in love, get married, have kids, a good job, and just a good life.

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