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Description
She stands alone in a crowded bar, underwear around her knees like a sex crime victim. Her face is vacant and her body is empty, her soul floating above her laughing in disgust at what she has become. Her aura is made up of smoke and desperation and the only words she expresses are the ones printed on her forehead screaming “use me” in bold red letters to match her lipstick. Her hair, once glossy and fruitful in colour has now become limp and dull, it fell over her ghostly pale shoulders that were now almost nothing but bone. Her body looks like a skeleton with the skin stretched over and you’re afraid to touch her in case you accidentally tear her.
In her grasp she holds a one-way ticked to nowhere but she can’t find her way to the platform, but as long as she continues to feed off others she knows she’ll be okay. Absorbing their spirit. Anyone will do tonight and everyone here is worth as much as she is – a one-dollar dress and an old motel mattress. How many more times can she screw up? She fails to keep count. Numbers aren’t needed in her world except to pay the price.
She’s been standing here for about an hour now, it doesn’t sound that long but when all you do is count the seconds it becomes an eternity. She wonders, how many more people in here are as derelict as she is? Is there another ruined soul in here to match hers? Wishful thinking gets the best of her and you can never end up with the right person when you’ve such a bad judge of character.
She turns around to the bartender. Fed up, the miscellany of bottles behind him is her last hope. She asks “give me a drink that will make me numb”, without even a glimmer of alarm in his eye, as if he’d been waiting for this request for two years he hands her a small blue bottle marked “wretched” . She searched around the rest of the bottle for any other sort of label with a description as to what was inside. She found nothing. She unscrews the top and peers inside, as if she were expecting to find something other than the murky dark liquid. She stared at the swirling mixture, thinking about what this could do to her. Then she figured, she has nothing to lose, right? So without further thought she pressed the bottle to her lips and let the liquor glide down her throat.

Description
She stands alone in a crowded bar, underwear around her knees like a sex crime victim. Her face is vacant and her body is empty, her soul floating above her laughing in disgust at what she has become. Her aura is made up of smoke and desperation and the only words she expresses are the ones printed on her forehead screaming “use me” in bold red letters to match her lipstick. Her hair, once glossy and fruitful in colour has now become limp and dull, it fell over her ghostly pale shoulders that were now almost nothing but bone. Her body looks like a skeleton with the skin stretched over and you’re afraid to touch her in case you accidentally tear her.
In her grasp she holds a one-way ticked to nowhere but she can’t find her way to the platform, but as long as she continues to feed off others she knows she’ll be okay. Absorbing their spirit. Anyone will do tonight and everyone here is worth as much as she is – a one-dollar dress and an old motel mattress. How many more times can she screw up? She fails to keep count. Numbers aren’t needed in her world except to pay the price.
She’s been standing here for about an hour now, it doesn’t sound that long but when all you do is count the seconds it becomes an eternity. She wonders, how many more people in here are as derelict as she is? Is there another ruined soul in here to match hers? Wishful thinking gets the best of her and you can never end up with the right person when you’ve such a bad judge of character.
She turns around to the bartender. Fed up, the miscellany of bottles behind him is her last hope. She asks “give me a drink that will make me numb”, without even a glimmer of alarm in his eye, as if he’d been waiting for this request for two years he hands her a small blue bottle marked “wretched” . She searched around the rest of the bottle for any other sort of label with a description as to what was inside. She found nothing. She unscrews the top and peers inside, as if she were expecting to find something other than the murky dark liquid. She stared at the swirling mixture, thinking about what this could do to her. Then she figured, she has nothing to lose, right? So without further thought she pressed the bottle to her lips and let the liquor glide down her throat.