broke apart my insides ,

[josephine marla dixon]

help me, i broke apart my insides,

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HELP ME, I'VE GOT NO SOUL TO SELL. HELP ME, THE ONLY THING THAT WORKS FOR ME NOW. HELP ME GET AWAY FROM MYSELF.

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SHE WAS EXHAUSTED.There was an ache running along her spine that made her yearn for the comfort of the bed, but she didn’t want to go back home when she knew there were demons waiting to be battled before she could give into slumber, if she were able to, at all. Anxiety had a tireless and terrifying grip on her. Only hours before, panic had crawled it’s demanding nails into her stomach, into her heart, as one of her clients had confessed that he might have an STD just as she was giving him a hand job. Of course, they wore protection at all times, but you could never be too careful, specially as there had been exchange of bodily fluids. She had tumbled into a corner and quickly pressed the emergency button installed in every one of the rooms, and the receptionist had been with her at the moment. Mr. and Mrs. were notified and they had excused her to take the day off and check in at the clinic nearby, and Josie had done so. The people at the clinic knew what went on at the massage parlour, but had always kept their mouths shut, so an allegiance of sorts was formed between them, and most of Mr. and Mrs. girls checked in at the clinic. For Josie, the hours she spent getting her check-up done was time inside that would pass slowly. They told her they would have the results back in two weeks, but until then, it was only logical she wouldn’t be allowed back at all. Mr. and Mrs. would be supportive of her, no matter what, but there were certain requirements to be met while on the job, and a diseased girl would not be allowed to carry on under any circumstances. It was depressing to know there was the possibility she might never be able to go back, when looking into the gaping future her heart gasped because she didn’t know what to do with herself. Prostitution was life, it was the better half of it that she had known.

Taking the first step into the parlor that day, she had not known it could provide her with the best escape that she could know of. She had been ushered in to the kitchen area by a klutzy receptionist who mistook her for one of the others girls that worked there, by the name of Suzy, who had the same brown hair and fair skin tone. When she realized her mistake though, Josie was ushered into an office with comfortable sofa’s and personalized photographs on the walls, and a very huge, very warm women had welcomed her. Her name was Mrs, and she was curious to know what Josie could be doing in there. Josie asked for work, seeing the hesitation in Mrs’s eyes as she checked her up, but then the woman nodded, and asked Josie to come back the next day for a trial run. Josie was intimidated, afraid, and nervous, when she walked in the next day – she was handed a change of clothes, and asked to meet up with the other girls in the Greeting Room. Mrs. had come up behind Josie and explained to her about the ropes of the house, making sure that Josie knew what the basic rules were – always use protection, never give away your actual name, never agree to meet a client outside work, etc – before she was pushed into the line with the other girls, and asked to parade in front of a potential client, stopping only to introduce yourself. The client had to chose who he wanted to serve him, and Mrs. had already filled Josie in on how he would be charged and how the money would be split, and though there was a part of her hoping he’d pick her, the larger part of her sighed with relief when she wasn’t. But clients came and went and no one picked her, and Josie had begun to worry that Mrs. wasn’t going to hire her as she wasn’t’ good for business, when she started noticing that the girls who got picked were the ones who said their names slowly, while maintaining eye-contact and giving a tiny, mysterious smile.

Josie tried it on the next client, and viola, she was picked. She was scared, but proud, and though her hands shook and she was afraid of messing up, she got through it and left a customer very satisfied. Maybe she was lucky that her first client was a nice young man, because he picked up on her fear and didn’t complain even if she wasn’t as good as she would later become, and yet left a big tip anyway, which impressed the Mrs. and had her asking Josie to come back for more. At first, the house was lonely because the girls who’d been around longer tended to stick together – the new girls often dropped out after a week or two, so no one was willing to put effort into making friendships with people who might leave. But as the weeks went by and Josie stayed and Josie worked and Josie sat alone in a corner when she didn’t have a client and tried not to cry, people warmed up to her. She was more readily involved with the crowd, and as she was a great listener and good at dispensing advice, though she was quiet, she had a devoted crowd of friends whom she could settle with if she wanted to, though they all knew her well enough to respect her to stay by herself when she didn’t need company. It was a comfortable regime to settle down into, Josie didn’t like the idea of not getting to do that anymore. She was mad at herself, mad at her latest client, for potentially scarring her future, when her past already had too many open wounds she was too scared to look at head on.

The only thing that was keeping her together right then was the waves. The way they crashed and laughed at her feet, like children with reckless abandon. How silly and happy they were, with all the freedom to roam the seven seas and yet they were at her feet, they were singing a throbbing song that eased her heartbeat, and she wanted to sit, she wanted to soak herself, she wanted to drown. The thought broke away from the other ones, seeming to feed off from the despair in her heart, growing larger, and larger, even though it was a thought half-formed and a plan she didn’t intend to execute, she stepped further into the waves anyway. The stars were looking down on her, as curious about her as she was about them, and she sat down at the shore with the waves soaking her thighs and she laughed, because that’s what you do sometimes at the ridiculousness of it all – you laugh, because no matter what you do or where you go, the world keeps bringing you down.

words; 1173
tagged; lainey with jeremy
notes; well, i'm not entirely happy with this post,
but we'll see where it goes. XD excited about josie and jerr though. <3

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[jeremy caleb foster]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 450px; padding: 10px;] [bg=121212][style=font-family: arial narrow; color: #00BBFF; font-weight: bold; font-size: 20px; letter-spacing: -1px; line-height: 16px; padding-left: 5px; border-left: 300px solid #00BBFF;]KILL A LITTLE TIME.[/style] [style=text-align: center; color: #e4e4e4; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing: 3px; font-family: arial;]YOU CAN SLEEP WHEN YOU'RE DEAD CAUSE IT ISN'T OVER[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; color: #e4e4e4; background-color: #212121; padding: 5px; border: 1px solid #222222;] --- "SO, are you coming on friday night, or should i leave you off the guest list?" jeremy asked as he pushed himself farther into the chair he was sitting in. he clasped his hands together at his stomach. he was down near the beach, inside one of the law offices that made you wonder why it was located in the sunny side of valkyrie instead of the sophisticated business district. victor grayson was sitting behind his desk, contemplating what jeremy had been saying. grayson & meyers had always been loyal customers. or, at least the grayson half had been. as a respectable defensive attorney, victor grayson was a known lawyer in the city. from his flashy cars, to his perfect white smile, to the frat boy personality he never seemed to ditched. he was money, he was a face, and he was a regular high roller in the illegal giovanni casino. "don't you think with everything going on in this goddamn city, you guys should... i don't know... lie low for awhile?" he asked. jeremy could see he was nervous, but he shrugged. "it's no different from any other time. in the wake of certain... circumstances, doesn't mean anything, victor. they were looking before, they are still looking. business doesn't stop just because some russians are sore losers." victor ran a hand through his hair. thing was, mr. grayson probably should have been removed from the gambling ring because he was clearly had a gambling problem. this guy probably dreamed of the suits. "what's going on friday?" jeremy smiled, he wheeled him in. "horses, poker, craps, roulette. pick your poison, counselor." victor's eyes lit up. "count me in." aside from his clear gambling problem, he was one of the good customers. he knew to pay up when he needed to. but, it was never any of the high rollers that had debts to pay off. that's why luca told them that friday night was going to be an exclusive gambling party to their most loyal of customers. therefor, there wasn't going to be any of the scavengers, lurking around making bets they knew they couldn't pay off. "great," jeremy said. "i'll add you to the guest list then. am i adding a plus one?" he asked. victor shook his head. "no, no. the mrs. doesn't know about any of this. plan to keep it that way." jeremy nodded his head and pulled out his notepad and circled victor grayson's name. luca gave him the names of the high rollers he wanted jeremy to personally invite. he had been spending all day visiting lawyers like grayson, doctors, councilmen, and wealthy business owners. jeremy knew luca was going to be very pleased that most of the names he was given were planning on attending the event this friday. jeremy stood up, and outstretched his hand and victor took it. "we'll be in touch mr. grayson. thanks for your time." victor nodded and pressed his phone. "laura, can you see mr. foster out?" the door opened and mr. grayson's secretary, a sophisticated-looking blonde stood in the doorway. "mr. foster..." she said. she had already made eyes at him the brief ten minutes jeremy waited to see victor. he followed her out the door. "thank you, laura," he said with a smile as he reached the front door. "if you need to contact mr. grayson in the future, you can call ahead so you won't have to wait. i handle all the calls," she told him, which only was code for she would rather he just call for her. he smirked. "i'll keep that in mind." he pushed his way out of the office, back first. "have a great day." jeremy lifted his ball cap and ruffled his hair before putting it back, securely on his head. he entered the law office right at sunset and now, he was standing in darkness. well, besides the street lamps, and the pier, brightening the night up starting at the end of this block. he pulled his notepad out one last time, grayson wasn't the last one on the list, but it was too late to locate the others, typical business hours were long since passed. oh well. he could do the rest in the morning. luca would still be happy, and jeremy could keep impressing the giovannis. jeremy slipped the notepad back into his back pocket. he walked towards the beach. born in boston and living in new york city before coming here, he liked the pacific ocean. the beaches here in valkyrie beat anything on the east coast. at first, he never knew what the fuss was about, but he could see it now. the pacific ocean pretty much defined california in a way. he could see a few bonfires on the beach, people drinking and gathered around it. he could see some surfers riding the night waves, but it still wasn't as populated as he would see during the day. his phone started buzzing as he made his way into the sand and headed towards the shoreline. he pulled his cell phone out and scoffed. it was morals, the agent he consistently had to check in with. they said to make sure he wasn't dead, but jeremy saw it as the overbearing big brother. yeah, he was here working, but he had to play the part as well. he was getting sick of morales telling him what he should and can't be doing. jeremy knew if he was so stone faced, the italians would think something was going on. he was... lucky, the name he picked up in prison. he was stern when he needed to be, but at the end of the day, he was a playboy, living up the single life. jeremy would probably get an earful later since he was deliberately ignoring the calls, but jesus, he didn't need to check in after every meal. i heard a fit of giggles and squinted his eyes down at a girl sitting right on the shoreline. giggling at... well, herself it looked like. he walked further down and realized he knew the giggling girl. "josie?" he laughed. "as i see you are being thoroughly entertained by yourself, want some company?" he asked her. he had met her several times since coming to valkyrie. [style=color: #00BBFF; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 1px; background-color: #121212; padding: 2px;]TAGGING: JOSIE @ BEACH | OUTFIT: JEANS, TSHIRT, BOSTON RED SOX HAT | LYRICS: DIGITAL DAGGERS | NOTES: LAMELY ENDED, WON'T LIE[/style][/style]

[style=font-size: 10px; font-family: georiga; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 3px;]TEMPLATE BY SAMARECARM OF OTE + BTN[/style]