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Rated: 18+ · Prose · Emotional · #1275592
A woman finds love in the beds of strangers. Finally she comes to terms with her actions.
She sat on the bed, legs dangling off the side.  She stared at the floor, mumbling incoherently.  Her head jerked up as she remembered something; yet another memory she desperately wanted to forget.  She closed her eyes and shook her head slightly.  She reopened them and found herself staring into a large wall mirror.



The reflective glass was encased by a golden frame that had been dulled over time.  At one point, it had been intricately decorated with fake jewels and semi-precious stones.  Now, most of the jewels were gone, leaving behind small craters as if to remind one that the mirror had once been beautiful.  It had been bought for that reason; it reminded her of herself.  For that same reason, she hadn't gotten around to hanging it.



She stared a while longer, then gradually inched her way to the floor.  She clutched her knees to her chest, watching every move she made.  She tossed her head this way and that, hoping to find some minute piece of the beauty she'd lost over the years.



Finally, she sat perfectly still, did not even bother to blink.  She gazed, stared, into her face.  A furrow seized her brow.  She leaned forward, frowning deeper the closer she got to the cool glass.



She sat still a moment more, then she suddenly reared back.  "Whore!" she yelled at the glass.  "Filthy, disgusting, disease-ridden whore!"



She fell silent again, waiting for her reflection to lash back.  When it only returned her hot stare, she continued on.  "Do you honestly think they fuck you because they love you?  Because you're beautiful?  Sexy?  They fuck you because you are a whore who doesn't ask for money.  You give yourself to them to do as they please and you don't ask for a penny.  They use you, throw you away, come back a week later asking for more, and you let them.  They don't love you; they love your ass."



She glared at the girl in the glass, daring her to speak up for herself.  Still the girl was silent.



"I mean... How dumb can you get?"  Her tone took a hysteric edge as she began to fight back a flood of tears.  "You sit at home, waiting for the one, your Knight in Shining Armor, to come sweep you off your feet.  In the mean time, you sleep with every other guy you meet, contracting God knows what, in a pathetic attempt to fill the void created by years of lonliess and solitude.  How can you be so... so..."



Sobs choked her last words and she hunched over, shaking uncontrollably.  A minute went by, then two, then three.  Finally, the tears drained into a trickle and her convulsions ceased.  "You are so fucking pathetic," she whispered into her hands.  She looked up and found her reflection watching her with sympathetic eyes.



"No," the glass girl spoke, "you are."
© Copyright 2007 KT Chan (ktchan4384 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1275592-The-Glass-Girl