The Corpse

Posted by Barbanne on August 15, 2001 at 18:39:24:


"Did she die badly?"
"Beaten to death. Semen in the mouth, rectum, vagina, yeah I'd say she died very badly."
"And how old was she?"
"Hard to say with these kids but she hadn't reached her twentieth birthday that's for sure."
Born on a farm outside Bumfuckville Nowhere to an alchoholic mother and a violent father she had grown up in lonely dreams with her stuffed Panda and her Barbie and her cut out magazine page pictures of film stars sellotaped to the walls.
At six years old, late one night and reeking of booze, Daddy hurt her and innocence died. If she had thought Daddy was bad, Uncle Bert was inventive and sadistic and she lay whimpering and bleeding and wishing Panda and Barbie would take her to some magic place of safety.
When she was thirteen she took her treasures and crept out one hot summer night while Mummy coughed up her lungs in the back kitchen.
The girl was sprawled half across the bed, her legs trailing on the floor.
She was nude.
Her breasts were bruised and her ribs were broken. Surprisingly her face was hardly marked. Her opened mouth and lidded eyes gave her the look of an astonished child. Her hair was matted and bloody, the side of her head beaten pulpy.
He tilted her to the side. Hard to say but it looked like fists. Fists and one or two large rings or maybe knuckledusters.
The cum could be seen where it streaked her mouth and cunt.
The men found her when she reached the town.
Found her and used her.
She dreamed of the movies and turned tricks for a hundred bucks a time. Six or seven a night. She hated the men and hated the men who used her. They gave her maybe fifty for a day's work. She spent it on junk food and movie magazines.
At night when she escaped into sleep she dreamed of how it would be one day.
He looked around the room.
The battered Panda and the little ballet dancer Barbie. The taped up cut out pictures of young handsome film stars. The pathetically small collection of clothes. He checked the drawers. Well worn and carefully washed and folded bras and panties. A red leather purse. A couple of bucks and some more cut outs, folded again and again where they had been taken out and viewed repeatedly. No ID. No cards, nothing.
Just another nameless runaway.
He looked at the body again.
Hardly more than a kid.
"How'd it happen girl?" he asked.
Sometimes life sucks.