More than words on a page: Not only my story to tell

What do I do? Here I am back in a situation I told myself I would never be in again. Mark has again left to pursue whatever sin he feels and I have spent every dime I had which I take was the plan.

Why does he take pleasure in seeing me suffer from throwing up to being turned upside down.

Stop the pity or at least no time for pity. 

Cheshire Bridge is not for the faint at heart. It is also not for the unclean, not washed and very hot.

I guess I will walk toward the direction away from the hotel though I have no where to go, no way of getting there and tired as hell. Complaining is not going to help my situation and sulking is not going to improve my chances of getting home.

HEY!!

What direction is that voice coming from or am I crazy as everyone believes me to be. I was crazy to think that I would have a fun time here because nobody wants to leave me to my own devices and vices.

"What are you up to Grant?" Brighton said

I almost knocked Brighton down when I hugged him. I was so glad to see him. Out of all the people that would help me I know that he would but hell I should have known better than that. In this hard knock situation everyone has a story and it's every man for themselves. Right now, from the looks of it, he has his own hell to deal with.

"I am just being stuck as hell and wanting to go home but damn if I need a shower." I said "Can you help me out?"

"I would love to but my friend said she just got raped." He said

I did not know what to say. He was very nonchalant when he said it. I looked to the side past Brighton and saw the policewomen take this lady by the hand or at least I think she is a woman. She might be a transgender. In this scene, in this world it is hard to tell. In this place of trying to survive the best way you know how and doing what you have to,  you don't have time to judge.

People are people and for a moment my problems seemed so small. I forgot I was stuck in a place where everyone hates me. I forgot that my so-called love left me to die on the street. I forgot my pain when I saw this person who had been violated move up the ramp from the established whore house with the law by her side.

I followed Brighton back down the ramp hoping to get a glimpse of despair this woman must be feeling. I did not relish in the fact she was in pain because I can see the tears in her eyes. I don't know why I was looking so hard to the right. Maybe I wanted to see her story through the misery that she felt. To know that she is forever a part of my story and I am part of this nameless woman who feels nothing but pain.

I want so much to help her but I was not in a position to help myself. I almost wept for her but in the back of my mind, the thing I am really thinking is that the decisions we make are all equated to feel the result. You reap what you sow. I am not saying she deserves what happened to her but something tells me; just like I made the decision to be trapped distant from safety, this same woman made a choice that now I hope she can live with.