Ruby sat up on the bed, holding her fingers to her head. God, the headache, it was killing her. She'd had a miserable... she didn't know how long it had been since she hadn't felt like crap. At least the chills and the sweating had stopped in time for her client's arrival. As if he would have noticed.
"Oh, baby, you were good there!" said the pile of flab she'd just finished with. Some middle manager with too much time and money.
"Oh, lover boy, you're too much! I don't think I've been fucked like that in forever. If you're ever up for another go..." She lied. It was possibly the worst sex she had ever had, and she hoped she never saw the bastard again. she felt the bile rise a bit in her throat at the thought. Or maybe it was just her upset stomache - she'd spent the last minute of that trying to ignore the pain in her abdomen, and since he'd lasted maybe three total, that may have contributed to how terrible the sex was.
"Oh baby, I want to hold you all the tim--" The man reached out one of his sweaty paws, resting briefly on her breast. She quickly slipped out from under and stood up. She was suddenly scared, for some reason. She felt her heart racing, and her stomache seemed to roll over.
"Hey, baby, where you going?" The idiot asked, and she took a step towards the bathroom before one of her knees buckled. She crashed to the floor, banging her elbow, and proceeded to vomit all over the hotel carpet.
She started sobbing, even as she heaved. She felt overcome by shame. What the fuck was wrong with her life? Couldn't get into collage, couldn't get a fucking JOB, and couldn't even get a good illegal job. She had to be a hooker, and a bad one at that, sitting her puking up her guts.
She was a failure, and she knew it. A fucking failure. But it wasn't her fault. No. It was her fucking father's fault. He'd never fucking been there, he'd given her nothing, except for the occasional beating. And this bastard - this fat bastard, he was just like her father. A businessman. Probably had a wife and kids at home, but spent all his term working and fucking hookers.
Kill the bastard. That's what she do. She'd kill the bastard, just like she'd killed that psycho that attacked her. She'd done it before - she could do it again.
She stopped. No. What was she thinking, she couldn't just... kill someone. Oh god, the thought of it... the psycho had it coming, he'd been attacking her. But she couldn't kill this guy. People would find out. They'd come after her. No matter how much he deserved it. No matter how much he stank.
Oh, but she wanted to. She wanted to bite his face up, his fat fucking face the fucking fucker. Taste his blood. Tear him to ribbons. Maybe not kill him. Just hurt him. Make him suffer. Make him bleed. Hurt. Pain. Hurt him.
She pushed herself to her feet, holding herself steady against the side of the bed, vomit dripping from the corners of her mouth. That stinking fucking pig was going to get what was coming to him. He stood there, shaking, asking her what was wrong, as if he cared. She could see it in his eyes. He just wanted the clothes that were behind her on the shelf, so he could get dressed and get the hell away from her. She staggered towards him.
She was getting scared. She was scaring herself. These thoughts... they almost didn't seem like her own. They seemed almost... ethereal. Oppressive.
Eat him. He deserves it, the fucker. He is responsible for everything. The fucker.
"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" She yelled. This was her mind, and that was the last thing she had, and she was going to keep it.
She rushed the fat man. Had to kill him. Had to.
She slammed her palm into the wall next to his head, growling at him. He shrunk away, yelling something, calling for help. But she stopped. His smell was repulsive, but intoxicating. He other hand grabbed the door knob and pulled down, as she backed away. She rushed into the hall, naked, covered in vomit, through the lobby and out the door. Every part of her mind seemed to be screaming at her to go back, to attack, but she ran. She just ran. She needed to get away.
She ran through an alley, ignoring the sharp bits of metal trash the tore at her feet, coming out onto another road. A group of drunks, coming back from the bars, stopped their off-key singing and just stared at her. The pricks. Staring. Ogling her. That's it. GOD. One of them moved towards her, said something, and suddenly she couldn't fucking take it anymore! She rushed at them, all venom and hissing, clawing and bitting. One of them pushed her down, and her head smashed against the ground, and then there was nothing but darkness.
She woke in the back of a police car, tearing at her handcuffs and clawing at the barrier that separated her from the man in front, sobbing and calling out as she did so.
+2 Infected
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8 (42.1%)
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Topic: You Are the Zombie Apocalypse! - Outbreak (Read 33917 times)