Just Another Day

short stories collection - a compilation of my short stories.


He hit me, once again I fell to the ground.
“You bitch, you fucking told him didn’t you?”
“I didn’t tell . . .”
He struck me again and my cheek began to bleed.

In truth, this is a prequel to Broken and foreshadows the violence and unhappy ending of that tale. This one is shorter, but no more bittersweet.

He hit me, once again I fell to the ground.

“You bitch, you fucking told him didn’t you?”

“I didn’t tell . . .”

He struck me again and my cheek began to bleed.

“Don’t you lie to me you prick, I know what you did, I saw you tell him something.”

“I didn’t tell him anything, he didn’t even ask any questions.”

“He doesn’t need to ask questions to get answers you whore.”

He kicked me in the ribs and I gave a yelp. He stared at me till I shut up, then proceeded to walk out of the room. I doubled over on the broken mattress in the corner and I cried the rest of the night.

I woke up the next morning in the cold cellar, a plush bed for the customers sat in the corner, my dirt covered bed placed on the opposite side. It wasn’t my fault, my mother was poor and my father had lost a leg due to an “accident” at work. I had tried to kill myself, to leave this miserable existence. I didn’t care if my family starved, at least I wouldn’t have to go through hell every night.

“Hey bitch, what are you sitting around fo’, there are customers waiting, hurry up.”

I began to get dressed, the wisp of air that were supposed to clothe me nearly falling off, the cross around my neck was bent, the diamonds on the chain having long fallen off. There were customers, always customers in this hell hole: criminals, pimps, poor men, rich men and everything in between. I serviced them every day, never did I enjoy it, legal rape was what it was. The police were in on the gig also, sometimes even they would come in for the night.

“Hey bitch, you in there, tell him nights over, we’re closin’.”

“Fuck off, he’ll leave when he’s done.”

So later that night he beat me again, trying to find out what I told the man. I continued to tell him the truth, that I hadn’t told the man anything, but he didn’t believe me.

“Let me get this straight bitch, the man walks in and talks to you–in private–for thirty minutes and you tell him nothin’?”

“Yes, and. . .”

“I didn’t ask you to answer bitch, I already know your lying to me.”

“But, I’m serious, I told him nothing.”

“Just like OJ didn’t kill his wife right? I’m done with you: you don’t make me enough money; the customers complain about your constant whining; and you and your illness costing me a pretty penny. Your not a profitable venture like them other girls, I’m gonna have to cut my loses.”

“So what, your going to sell me?”

“No bitch, that would be unkind to whoever gets you next, I’m going to make a killing though.”

“A killing?”

“Off of you and your death: headlines, I own the papers, remember bitch; police money, insurance, everything.”

“But, you can’t. . .”

I felt a sharp pain and the world suddenly started to fade from view. I looked at him, I was sure he’d been lying, ten years for nothing! Nothing! He didn’t care, he’s running a business and I wasn’t making enough for him, but he’d found other uses for me, like he does for everything else. To bad I lied to him and had told the investigator everything, the again, he’s probably paid the investigator off anyway, damn prick.



comments powered by Disqus

more articles to enjoy:

killer's army
21 december 2009 | short story

The trees flew past us, the wind almost drowning out the roars, hisses, and howls that permeated the area. The gun felt cold in my han[...]d; it weighed me down and got in the way of my agile attempts to slip through the undergrowth. To my left was Marsha, like a sly fox she twisted and turned to avoid everything Nature did to obstruct her path. To my right was Judy, her movements labored owing to the gash running down the side of her leg. It oozed green and yellow puss—we may have to kill her before she turns. The twigs and branches continued to rip through my clothes and skin, yet it was nothing compared to the terror that drove us forward. The howls grew louder and the falling of trees could be heard behind us.

Perhaps the pinnacle of my horror stories, it is a relentless, fast-paced tale of zombies, an accident in the making and a mysterious man. There are two independent stories being told, but drawing the link makes everything much more satisfying.

from the archives: declaration of independence, internet edition
11 july 2013 | america

A revised Declaration of Independence I did awhile ago (i.e. high school) for a writing class. It is slightly a mockery of the style of wri[...]ting sometimes used back then, e.g. finding unnecessarily complicated ways of saying a simple concept; long, ponderous sentences; and an abuse of the Capital.

social chair spring 2012
27 december 2011 | psk

My terms as social chair during Fall 2011 went quite well, but there were several things I was unsatisfied with. This presentation outlines[...] several different areas I would like to see improved.

en el mundo de los dios
24 april 2010 | short story | spanish

Me desperté en la casa de mi novia. Esta alcoba tenía muchas sillas; mi novia le gustaba invitar a sus amigos aquí y nos cenemos ca[...]da viernes. Odié a sus amigos de mi novia, ellos eran terrible y egoistica. Pero, no es el punto de este cuento, quiero hablarles sobre mi aventura en el otro mundo. No he contado a otras personas sobre este evento; creo que si lo hago, la gente creería que yo sea loco y me ponen en una cárcel.

To practice my Spanish I began writing a couple short stories in the language. This if the first, which focuses on an abduction and the magic of exploring a new world.

©2006-2017 | biafra ahanonu | updated 19 june 2017
biafra ahanonu