by DEE LEAN
The flame consumes her desire to feel; as she inhales deeply she throws her head back and curses the destructive path that has led her here. Sitting in a filthy room with dirty walls, she blows softly on the tip of the roach between her fingers. Watching blindly she opens her mouth slowly and runs her tongue along her made up lips. Softly she closes her eyes and pretends she is in a back alleyway in Paris listening to street musicians play with intrigue and gusto.
The heaviness of her lids makes her want to drift away forever.
She flicks her tongue up and opens her mouth; dreaming of riches and gifts lavished upon her by men in designer suits with expensive taste.
She is pulled out of her thoughts by a fist banging on the door that leads to the dirty room.
Her eyes open ever so slowly and she is pulled back; she stares deeply into the mirror and doesn’t recognise the monster sitting before her with stringy bleached hair and blotchy orange skin. She stares hard at the mirror that is smeared with bodily fluids belonging to strangers that have sat here before her. Blood and semen smeared on the lower left hand corner where her eyes have come to settle.
Another pounding on the door jolts her into action.
She pulls swiftly on the rubber that is loosely around her upper arm and places it tightly between her teeth. She looks on intensely as she tries to find a new spot to plug her happiness into. The other hand taps gently until she finds the pleasure spot. Pulling tighter with her teeth she picks up the needle and pushes firmly until all of the euphoria is in. Both arms go slack and the band drops out of her mouth as she slides down that dirty chair in that dirty room. And the thumping on the door gets louder.
A voice she nearly hears tells her to move her goddamn ass before… Before what?
Then the bass slowly creeps in her spine up into her skull and buries itself in her brain.
This is it.
This is her calling.
She stands up and slowly runs her hands down her midriff, closing her eyes one more time and seeing champagne flowing and diamonds.
A smile smears across her face and she is all at once the Belle of the Ball. The woman that all the girls want to be and the girl that all the men want to fuck rolled into one, higher celestial being. She is more than a broken girl in a dirty room with angry men waiting for her to dance. She is everything she has ever wanted to be and more. With that she turns toward the door and makes her way into the spotlight where the music is playing just for her…
***Dee Lean believes that a writer that doesn’t write is like a soul without a mate; aimlessly wondering without a purpose. Born in Belfast, Ireland, Lean currently lives in Melbourne, Australia and is a single mother to two gorgeous kids that get her up and inspire her to see and seek the good in all. When people ask her what she does, she simply says, “I write.” Lean is now a regular contributor at Sick Lit Magazine. She tweets at: https://twitter.com/Dede18 ***