Fix You (Zayn Malik)

I'll always have to fend for myself, but I never wanted it to come to this. Making such a major change. I never thought of the day I would be the one begging for money, trying to find somewhere I belong. But why all of a sudden does he even care? Why can't he just treat me like everyone else... like an object? -Melody


1. Prologue

I pull my pants back on after another job well done on my part. The man, I don't even know his name, hands me my well earned money. I give him one of my famous mischevious smiles, before putting my shoes on and walking out the door. It's raining pretty hard, just my luck right? I hurry down the side walk, searching for the all so familiar alley that has been my home for over a year. The skies light up from a crack of lightning, and a boom of thunder. 
        I hurry along down the alley and towards the large box that I call home. I crawl inside my home, and huddle up. Pulling my knees closely against my chest, letting my face fall in my knees. I never wanted it to get this bad, but when you have no where to go.. it seems like you have no choice. I needed money, and this seemed like the only way I could get what I needed.
 I run my fingers through my long black hair, that is soaked from the rain.  Many people may say that I need help, or that this isn't right, but it's what I do. They must get used to the fact that I have no choice but to do what I do. Yeah I know it's dangerous, and I know I could possibly get arrested for it.. but I have no other way of survival. People try giving me money, but I just give it back. I'm one of those people who don't like to just have things handed to them. I need to work to recieve something. I hate feeling like some charity case everyone just looks down at.

I look through the money I earned tonight, close to ten dollars! That's a lot for me! A small smile comes to my face, but quickly falters as I remember just how I got this money. But it's what keeps me alive, and I have to except that, just like everyone else. Sometimes it sucks, realizing that I have no furture or life. 
        That all I am is just some piece of meat that guys can use for their own pleasure. I am nothing more than just an object, and I know this. When I see all those normal girls walking down the street with bug smiles on their faces, wearing pretty clothes, laughing, and just having a normal life, it makes me want to have something like that. Even though that's not possible for a 19 year old girl living on the streets. 

        No parents, no friends, nothing. Everyone left me alone to fend for myself. And I think I handle myself pretty well, for what I go throught that is.. I just have to get used to the fact that I Melody am in fact...


A prostitute...


Well.... this story is wayyy differnt from anything I have done. And I really don't want to offend anyone while writing this, I really don't. I just thought it would be a good idea for a story... I in fact hate prostitution, and feel bad that some girls actually have to result to that... SO I hope you like this story! Byes!
Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...