Untitled by IAMCOP
The whore. That’s what they called me. The nice term was hooker, or prostitute. I reeled in men and had my way with them. Or rather, they had their way with me. It gets all confused sometimes, in my head, you know? I don’t want to be in this business, but I have to. I sit there at the town meeting during the day, and I cry inside. I want to tell everyone the truth of who I am, what I do. If I did, they wouldn’t be happy. The mafia. They have no problem murdering people. I’ve seen them do it. They forced me to help most nights. How is it that they had such control over me? Why didn’t I just go into witness protection? God. God hates me. I saw what happened to the last woman who they turned into mafia and squealed. She was banished. Never to return, not even in the afterlife, or in the graveyard as a ghost. He has a really sick way of banishing them. They call it gamethrowing, or something like that. You know the phrase, “snitches get stitches”. God considers this life a game. It feels like a game. I don’t understand why people don’t want to stop murderers, no matter the cost. “It’s not fair”, they say. Well fuck them. It’s not about what’s fair, but what’s right. I really wish I could stop being a hooker. Having pleased so many men, and women, I feel so dirty. My only crime to obtain this punishment was to be in the wrong place, at the cliché’d wrong time. I was late coming home from the town meeting, and I happened to stumble upon a murder. These were people I thought I had trusted, and they were there murdering someone! It was horrific! If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it. They caught me, and threatened to kill me if I didn’t comply. I feared for my life. I don’t have a family, so they didn’t threaten it. I was selfish. A sin. The reason why I will forever be hooking men for their pleasure.