The scorching Hades’ vapors rose throughout the concrete jungle of countless miles of shabby homes, and boarded-up buildings. At the corner, filled with vulgar men and teenagers displaying their herd mentality: sexual gestures, hooting, and hollering to the streetwalkers. The prostitutes moved on, taking their cue; I did too.
Droplets of sweat dripped on my back as I strolled. My mother’s voice nagged at me, wearing Daisy Dukes, a short tight top, and my dirty white tennis shoes. For I was proud of my slender physique and my plump breasts.
But I couldn’t change my clothes. My boyfriend and I had a violent argument when his unstoppable wrath erupted. That’s when I scrammed from our apartment. On my way out, I snatched my purse.
I spotted trouble. Piercing eyes generated a frigid chill, seizing my spine. A shadowy figure emerged a half block away. Creepiness rushed into my skin forming…
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Alexandra Mars 