An old whores memories   6 comments

I awoke this morning with a memory of my life as a hooker. Not sure what sparked it but it’s a memory I long ago pushed to the back of my mind because of the horror of it. It’s not particularly gory but the fact that a police officer, someone that’s supposed to be the holder and protector of the rules could rape a handcuffed 17-year-old in the grass by an overpass was unthinkable  to me then. I thought I was fairly street wise by the time this happened but I never thought I’d be a victim. I was truly naive.

  Many things happened to me while I was a prostitute but none scarred me as this did. After his assault, he released me and left me to walk back to the city. It was the dead of night and I remember crying as I walked, blood drying on my battered face, my glasses broken and lost in the weeds of my assault, tears blurring what sight I did have. It was the longest walk of my life and it gave me time to think about my future. As my trembling legs carried me over the asphalt, I thought of what might have happened, how I could have laid in that field of tall weeds, dying instead of walking. I remember praying for the first time in my young life. TRULY praying to a God I didn’t really believe in. As cars passed me, I began to feel truly alone as I never had before. Did no-one see my plight, did no one care? I staggered and fell, weeping beside the road, skinning my knees to the bone as the sun began to light the mountains before me. I remember the feeling of peace and awe that overcame me as I knelt there watching the beauty lighting up as the beams of warmth hit my body.

   A truck startled me as it pulled up behind me, brakes hissing as the driver opened his door. An older man approached me, silhouetted by the sun. I couldn’t see anything but a blur of a man but his voice was soothing as he knelt beside me, asking if I was OK. I clung to this stranger as I’d never clung to anyone but my mother when I was a child. He lifted me and carried me to his truck where his wife was waiting. She was so sweet and gentle, wiping my face with a damp cloth as they took me to the hospital in the city, a half hour away. That beautiful couple stayed with me while the nurses cared for me and walked with me up to the room they put me in for observation. I never knew their names but they were my saviors that day and I never got to thank them for their kindness. Because of them, I know my life was saved that morning.

 I had internal bruises from the assault, a minor tear in some internal organs and three broken ribs. The doctors said it was truly a miracle that I wasn’t laying somewhere dead with those injuries. I silently thanked my Higher Power for helping me get as far as I did. When the police came into my room to ask questions. I freaked out. I just completely lost it, screaming and trying to get away from them, only stopped by the doctor coming in with a shot to calm me and three VERY large nurses. I was only able to talk to the detectives and only if they didn’t tell me they were police. It was years before I would trust another officer.

I was off the streets 6 months before its call became too much. I wasn’t addicted to drugs. yet. I was addicted to sex and money.

Posted February 5, 2012 by I'm taking a nap in Memoirs

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6 responses to “An old whores memories

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  1. Horrible tale!
    Was the copper prosecuted? He sounds a right bastard.
    Thanks for sharing.


    • He was never identified. I was more afraid of myself being persicuted and/or sent home as a runaway. Truthfully, I don’t think they really entered the report since it was a hooker telling on one of their brothers.


      • That’s really sad. Chances are, he will have done it again. I just hope somebody nailed him.
        I’m truely sorry that you had to go through that. I hate the assumtion that it cannot be rape for a prostitute. Judges have taken the view that it’s merely a “contractual issue”, which I find disgusting.
        good talking to you


  2. Hey, thanks for the follow. I’ve been reading through several of your most recent posts, and all I can say is, wow. Whatever your past trials have been, you are a very eloquent writer who is obviously in a happier and more peaceful place now, and hopefully in a more intimate place with the Father God. Your candor and willingness to share will bless many; part of what makes abusers of any kind successful is that no one talks about it. May the Lord use you mightily.


    • Than you for the kind words. I am in a much better place and have the exceptional blessings to prove it. Tho we struggle with many shortfalls in our home, love and acceptance are not in short supply. I sincerely do hope that my place in life now is not only as wife and mother but also teacher and friend. I pray daily for guidance and a chance to help one person understand that no matter ones past, they are still lovable and forgivable. One only needs to open ones mind and heart.


  3. I would like to identify this composition as a true-crime miracle play ~ straight-forwardly written & with definite emotional impact. I can’t refrain from adding this two-cents worth… Thank you.


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