Vanessa curled up in her bed in a fetal position. The morning light was relentlessly screaming though her Venetian blinds. She squeezed her eyes shut real tight in hopes the morning would leave as quickly as it came. She knew it wouldn’t, but every morning she tried.
Vanessa was a beautiful girl by all accounts. She knew in her heart that she carried all the beautiful traits that her mother had forced her to use as a child to activate her own endorphins. Her hair was considered by the *black folks* to be *good hair*. What the black folks never considered was how a chocolate girl like her ended up with such straight black hair.
Vanessa was the product of a sale. Her mother was a prostitute and her father was made up of one or several of the tricks her mother turned to until she conceived her. Her mother kept her appearance up throughout her career. Down, to the very end. She intentionally made men infatuated.
Vanessa had a Barbie doll figure. Although she constantly ate as much as she could so that she could kill the stereotype of being sexually hungry. Her mother had met her destination that way.
The grim reaper usually makes his rounds about 5 am in the red district. That is the time of morning that most of the streets employees are at their lowest point. The day Vanessa’s mother was captured by the grim reaper was no different. Her grim reaper came in the form of her pimp. He was the definition of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
As Vanessa’s mother stumbled off the broken streets and into the shattered corridors of the boarding house they lived in she managed to pull her compact out her purse. She was already nervous because she knew she had actually outlived her usefulness. When she first met her pimp she was fifteen and he was nineteen. He grew up on the streets and knew the value of keeping fresh product aka women on the streets. No one on the streets was infatuated with a senior citizen. In the red light district, twenty-five is middle aged. So, she adjusted her face and opened the door to face her pimp without the goal money she had been ordered to bring. Instead, she decided to use her charm to intentionally distract and infatuate him.
Her death was long and designed to leave a lasting impression on all who heard the screams. At the end of the torturous event, he left at an even pace. There is no need to run when you create a scream that blends in with your environment. When you live in a building full of pimps and red light workers screams are part of the background noise. especially when the business is infatuation.
Vanessa had a love-hate relationship with her beauty. Her father had found her a few years ago and told the sad story of how much he loved her mother and cried at her sudden death. Vanessa didn’t believe a word he said. Vanessa had put herself out there to meet him. She also knew he wasn’t her father but, rather her mother’s pimp and murderer. She also knew he was infatuated with her. The infatuation was intentional on her part just like her mother’s death was on his. Just like the poison, she dropped in his coffee was that caused his heart attack at the restaurant.
Some people are just write for the kill.