The Dangerous Way Home

All she had to do was make it home safely. Home. It was half an hour walk, maybe less if she hurried. But taking the shortest route would lead her straight past the cartels. That was a huge risk.

Her heart pounded.

Maybe take a roundabout way? Out towards the factories, then jump the old metal fence and follow the railroad to the other side of town? Once she reached the old station, it would be just a short walk home. She would avoid the worst parts - but how long would that take? She looked at the time. 11:30. She had promised her mother to be home by midnight. This wasn’t good.

And all that extra time outside, who knows what could happen to her. Was she inviting misfortune by trying to avoid it? Wouldn’t it be simpler to follow the shortest path and hope for the best? Once she was home she would be safe. She had to be.

Bullshit. It was all bullshit. The old hag was playing with her mind. She had no real power.

A line of sweat trickled down her neck and onto her chest. The air was stifling, the arid ground radiating back the heat stored throughout the scorching day. All she needed was a cool breeze. She had to move.

It was bullshit. Total bullshit. Her breathing accelerated.



Gabriela Lucia Fernandez had known for a long time that the town was not safe. Young girls had gone missing a couple of times over the years. It was not a lot, but still enough to feed her fantasies. And that was not all. A schoolgirl was always the center of male attention. The testosterone filled bikers. The drunks. The good-for-nothings. The young, the old. The rich who tried to buy them, the poor who tried to beg them. The homeless, the scum. And, of course, the cartel.

Every time she went home from school, Gabriela made sure to travel with one of her friends, preferably two. They went out from her Catholic school and down the narrow back alleys towards the outskirts of town.

There were rough men there, sitting in small groups with unshaven faces and skin glistening from the sun, their eyes following her like wolves as she passed by. Her heart would speed up and she would grip the hand of a friend.

“Hey there, chikita, nice legs! Those marks on your knees, are they from praying to Jesus?”

“Come and sit with us, we are lonely!”

Their stench rose in the evening heat and invaded her nostrils, violated her senses. She closed her eyes. Kept her eyes on the ground. Clenched the tiny golden cross around her neck, and prayed.

“Just ignore them,” her friend Ana would spit. An easy thing for her to say. But Gabriela was not Ana. Gabriella was different. She could not ignore. The filth struck her on a visceral level, gripped her by the throat, pushed her to the ground, asphyxiated her mind while pushing in, deeper in. And there was nothing she could do.

Then there were the pubs and warehouses, where drunkards would stumble on the dusty streets behind, blurting nonsense and stinking of ale. Some would collapse on the ground, rolling their hairy beer bellies up towards the evening sun. But Gabriela was innocent, she was pure. Her soft skin shivered at their sight, her beautiful face wrinkled with disgust. Her small soft breasts moved with the shallow breaths of her chest. Her slender legs tightened under her skirt, keeping the gates to her innocence. And so her grip tightened around Ana’s hand and pulled her away, sticking to the fences on the opposite side of the street, walking fast until the men were safely left behind.

However the worst part was at the end of her journey. There was a small river a little before her house, and a stone bridge that crossed the river. During the months of rainfall the river bed was gushing with high waters, but during the dry months the river shrank to a small stream in the middle, leaving most of the river bed empty and dry. There, underneath the bridge, lived a homeless man with his 3 hounds, huddled in a makeshift house of cardboard and old planks.

The homeless man was middle-aged and greasy, with dirty hair sticking out on flocks and a round belly with rolls of fat that showed through the numerous holes in his shirt. His presence was as much from his body as from his smell, an impregnating stench of sweat, mold, and fermentation. It began as a subtle wiff, alerting her of his presence, and grew stronger and stronger each time she approached him. It was like walking into a marsh, with sluggish steps that sunk her deeper in the more she struggled.

“Do you have a coin to spare?” he asked, rattling a dirty old tankard. That was when her friends were there. If it was just her and Ana, the man grew insistent. He asked her how she was, if she wanted to spend time with him, to pet his dogs. The questions were innocent enough, but she could see his grin. Those crooked, yellow teeth were hungry for her. He wanted to bite a chunk of her youth, to devour the sweet delicacy of the forbidden fruit.

Despite everything, Gabriela would stop to chat with the old man. Politeness had been beaten into her from an early age, and it was physically difficult to get past him and his hounds without answering at least a few of his questions. So they talked, until he eventually let her go, staring after her with a vacant expression.

Only after that final obstacle could she get home, hug Ana goodbye and retreat to her room, sending a prayer to the Lord, thanking him that she was finally safe from the world and its horrors, at least for one more day.


Now midnight was nearing and she had to make it home safe, despite everything that had happened. There were few people left, mostly the drinking and the drunk. The proper folk had already gone home. Gabriela was afraid. She could sense that something was wrong. Something felt off. It was like an invisible cloud that hung over her head, like a shadowy hand gripping her throat.

Was it just her imagination? It was somehow darker than usual. The trees rustled ominously.

Her pace quickened. Were they always staring at her that insistently? The streets suddenly felt all too narrow; there was barely enough room to brush past the filthy men. She could swear that before she was able to walk on the other side of the street, a safe distance from any late stranger. Now she felt like the whole world was conspiring against her, the streets growing narrower and narrower, until they inevitably squeezed her into a trap.

This is not real. It can’t be. It’s all in my head.

She threw caution to the wind and started running. If she could only get home on time, she’d be safe. She would barricade herself in her room and wait out the night. Everything would be fine. Gabriela had to believe that.

Her feet stepped on something soft and wet and slipped. Her arms flailed to regain balance but it was too late. The young girl was already falling towards the pavement. The best she could do was reach forward and soften the impact.

She hit the ground with hands, elbows, and body, rolling to the side until she hit her back against the curb of the sidewalk. Her fingers dug into something cold and metal. The grid of a sewer drain. Then, just as she was pushing herself up, there was a flash of gold, a cling of metal against metal, and a distant watery drop as her cross fell between the bars. There was a sinking feeling in her gut.

Mierda, mierda, mierda!


That morning everything was looking bright. It was the beginning of a hot summer day - the day when the circus came in town. Ana dragged her there straight after school, eager to see all the spectacular curiosities the people were talking about. There were Juggalos and sword eaters, elephants and lions, acrobats and daredevils, all mixing together in performance after performance that kept the girls’ breath held in awe. Before they knew it, it had grown late and the setting sun was replaced by torches burning around the circus tents.

“We should go home,” said Gabriela cautiously.

“But we can’t, there’s so much more to see! The performances will be up till midnight, and we have no classes tomorrow. Stay with me,” replied Ana.

“I want to go soon. Midnight will be too late, I promised mother I’d be home already by then..”

Her friend pouted at that. “At least one more thing then. Here, there’s a fortune teller’s tent here. I’ve always wanted to see my fortune!”

“Alright,” conceded Gabriela. “But just that. We visit the fortune teller and we go home.”

The tent was standing ominously on a grass field away from the path. There were no other visitors in sight, only a small solitary figure near the entrance. As they approached, the fire of the torches revealed a bearded dwarf, who turned towards them with a crooked smile. He had a disfigured face, one eyeball missing completely and the other, lower than usual, staring at Gabriela inquisitively.

“You must be here for Madam Irma.”

The young girl was lost for words for a moment, but her friend rushed to answer.

“That’s right,” said Ana. “The tent is open for visits, right? We’ve heard so much praise about her!”

“Have you, now?” the dwarf smirked. “Very well, step right in, my lovely birds. Your destiny awaits.”

Seeing the freak, something in Gabriela stirred. It was a distant, yet familiar fear that made her heart beat louder and her hands reach for the cross around her neck. Before the feeling could settle, the dwarf shoved her forward into the tent.

The heavy crimson drapes parted and the two girls entered a space of red silk, incense-thick air and a sea of trinkets laying on shelves and hanging from strings. In the center of it all there was a small round table with four small stools around it. On one of them sat a hunched old woman, covered in scarves and bent over a crystal ball.

“I sense a purpose,” her dry voice creaked, “and a desire. What have you come to seek, my children?”

“I want to know my fortune!” said Ana. “Can you tell me? Will I marry a handsome man, move away from here? Will we have children?”

“The curiosity of youth, I see. Very well, sit. I shall tell you all.”

Gabriela rolled her eyes and pressed her lips together. The old woman served Ana a cup of tea and questioned her about the date and hour of her birth while the drink infused. After that the young girl drank the cup, and Madam Irma flipped it over, letting the tea leaves fall onto the tiny plate.

“I see choices, girl. Two men will fight for you. One will want to marry you, but will become boring after the years. The other can make you happy, but will not want to have children. You will meet both of them before the next solstice. The rest is up to you.”

Ana seemed to seriously consider that answer, which made Gabriela roll her eyes at her friend’s naive spirit.

“And what about you, girl?” the old woman turned towards her. “What is it you seek?”

“I don’t need anything from you.” She met the old woman’s eyes. They were like two black coals, shriveled but burning.

“She is always afraid,” interrupted Ana. “Wherever we go, she is afraid that someone will do something to her.”

“It isn’t fear,” Madam Irma said slowly, still holding her gaze. “A wicked soul is drawn to the wickedness of the world.”

For some reason that answer rubbed her the wrong way more than she had expected.

“Fuck you,” Gabriela snapped. “I knew this was a mistake the moment we walked in. I don’t need some sharlatan to sell me horseshit. Let’s go, Ana.”

The old woman gave her a poisonous look. Ana stood between the two of them, perplexed.

“Gabriela is a good person, she isn’t ‘wicked’!” her friend finally managed.

Madam Irma chuckled with a dry laughter. “Do you really believe this, girl? I can smell the rot on her, beneath all those pretty clothes.”

Gabriela’s blood boiled. Who was this woman to speak to her like this?!

“Come on, Ana, I’ve had enough of this fake bitch! We’re going.”

“I will give you one last chance,” said the fortune teller gravely. “You have fallen, but are not yet beyond salvation. I can help you - if you ask me nicely.”

“Vete a tomar por culo! Do you think I will listen to someone like you? My place is with God!” she squeezed the golden cross around her neck. It was the only thing that mattered.

“Your place is with God?” the old woman cackled. “No. You are a sad, broken soul. But I will do you a kindness. Tonight, I will help you to follow the path of your true desires.”

Madam Irma was suddenly quick as a snake, her wrinkled old arm stretched from under her robes and snatched a flock of Gabriela’s hair from her head. Before the young girl could do anything, the hag wrapped her hair around a small wax doll and threw it into the fire, mumbling a series of incomprehensible words.

“Go girl!” the Madam shouted, chuckling. “You who are so ungrateful and yet so confident. Go and follow your own desires, see where they lead you! Before the night is over, you will have found your true place in this world!”

And so she fled. As she breached the exit and stepped into the night, the words of the old woman echoed around her. Gabriela was angry and confused. She did not wait for her friend but ran, ran as fast as she could.

Was that hag really able to see inside her? Perceive those thoughts that she had so carefully tucked away in the corners of her mind? She couldn’t believe it. But something felt different, something felt wrong. A coldness ran down her spine.

How did the witch know?

There was a fog in her brain, a heaviness in her chest.

She took a deep breath.

All she had to do was make it home safely. It was half an hour walk, maybe less if she hurried.


Now, the world was spinning.

Her eyes widened, her hand darted to her neck - but the little golden cross was gone.

No, no, no!

Gabriela felt an eerie feeling of déjà vu, a sense of purpose in the accident. Had the old woman caused this? She suddenly felt vulnerable, almost naked. Her cross had always been her protection. It was late and dark, and she was still a far way from home. Anything could happen to her.

The thought excited her.

She pushed herself up and leaned against the corner of a building. The skin of her hands was scraped from the fall, and her dress was dirtied, but otherwise she was fine. The young girl breathed in and out, composing her thoughts.

There was a sudden noise that jostled her to her feet. It came somewhere from the street to her left, which was not on her way. She knew that the correct thing was to hurry past and ignore it; but she knew, in her heart of hearts, that she had always longed to go into the dark. And so her feet took her the other way, down the narrow alley and towards the sound.

It was like walking in a trance. She had resisted that desire for the longest time, but now she couldn’t anymore. Panic slowly started to swell in her mind as her grip on herself slipped away.

Gabriela went around the garbage containers and further into the dark alley. The main street was now a distant glow behind her back, the brick walls were closing in on either side with every step forward. There was a distinct smell in the air that spoke of violence and dissarey.

There was a silhouette in the darkness, a man leaning on a wall with a bottle in his hand. He was standing next to a back door, probably guarding an exit to one of their dens. She got closer and saw him lite a cigarette, the flame illuminating his tattoo-covered arms. He was from the cartel.

“Are you lost, little bird?” he growled at her. “Or are you looking for something?”

Her feet took her another step forward, close enough to breathe in the smoke that he exhaled in her face. Her hand undid the top button of her shirt.

“I see how it is,” he smirked. “A bitch in heat, if I’ve ever seen one. I suppose I can help.”

He pulled her to him. She didn’t resist. His muscular torso pressed against her, his hand slid under her skirt, feeling her.

“Nice legs, chikita,” he slurred. “And already wet as a mare. When was the last time you spread them?”

It would have been easy, it should have been easy to step away now, to leave the man behind and run. But something held her in place. She couldn’t bulge an inch, her feet were glued to the ground like anchors. There was a heat in her belly, an urge that she had held for so long. Her cross was no longer there to save her. Her Lord wasn’t there now. In this dark alley, nobody would see, nobody would judge her. Here, anything could happen.

Gabriela looked up into the face of a criminal. She felt his rough skin against hers. She felt his sweat, mixed with dirt and whiskey. The cartel man grinned, exposing a row of golden teeth glistening in the night. By now he knew that she wouldn’t resist.

“You are a catch, senorita! Let’s see if you are as wild as I think you are.”

His fingers ran into the tight gap between her legs. Her silk panties had a wet spot that was growing along with the heat in her belly. As soon as he touched her sweet spot she felt a shiver run up, along with an intense wave of pleasure.

“You like that, I see.”

She didn’t reply, trying to hold in bubbling moans of pleasure. No man had ever touched her down there yet. It felt even better than she had imagined, better than all her dreams and fantasies. And she had dreamt of this many times while walking down the dusty streets. Was this the temptation she had been running so long from?

“Aaah!” she moaned when the finger slid inside of her. The man pulled her panties down and was now teasing her naked flesh.

“Fuck me,” she whispered in his ear, the words escaping like prisoners out of the darkest cells of her consciousness.

He pushed her against the wall, the heat of his breath brushing against her cheek. Gabriela’s tender and slim figure was completely overshadowed by his. There was nowhere to go. He was going to have his way with her. Like she had always wanted.

His weight pressed on her. The wall was dry and rough on her skin. Her nails, biting in the tiny cracks of the fading concrete. Her small ass instinctively stuck behind, rubbing against his groin. Was he grinding against her or was she rubbing against him?

Her legs moved apart.

He pulled her panties down.

A finger to test the soil - she was wet and ripe for the taking.

Gabriela gritted her teeth and braced for impact. She felt his tip press against her opening. She was ready.

“Diego, get your filthy ass here!” The door behind them creaked open and a drunken voice called again.

“Fuck! Just when I had my luck going.” The man removed his grip from her waist and pulled up his pants. “I’ll catch you another time, little bird.”

And he was gone through the door.


She should have felt relieved. She should have felt happy. Any decent girl would rejoice for getting away from a cartel member who was about to have his way with her in a back alley. But Gabriela felt hollow and sad.

I’m a terrible person.

She had always known this in the back of her head, but only now dared to admit it. Now the reality hit her and there was no way to hide from it. As she walked the walk of shame, she realized that she was already looking to see if anyone else was around, if there were any other sounds coming from the dark streets. The spite the cool night air, the hotness between her legs was still growing. Her panties had been left behind somewhere in that street, just like the last of her morals.

Gabriela no longer doubted the words of the old hag. Whatever she’d done to her, it was working. And she was scared. The words were stuck in her head. “Follow her desires to find her true place.” She had desired so many things, in her private moments. Under the covers, when no one was watching. Now she was afraid to remember.

The journey was almost over. She was close to home now. All that was left was to cross the bridge. It was in eyesight, the old street lamps showering its metal frame with stale yellow highlights. It was the last part of her journey home.

Almost there.

Her feet moved her forward.

“Hey, have you seen a dog around?”

The familiar stench crept up her nostrils. It was the homeless man, emerging from the darkness beneath the bridge like a troll out of his cavern. He was followed by two of his hounds, running excitedly and sniffing the ground around.

Gabriela paused in her tracks, as if hitting an invisible wall.

No, not him! Anything but him!

She wanted to scream, to run away. Part of her was desperately trying to reason her way to salvation, to convince herself that she could never have any desire for the repugnant man. But the other part knew the truth and was screaming in horror.

“No, I haven’t seen any dog tonight,” her mouth replied. “Did it run away?”

“At first I thought she must have chased a cat or something,” said the homeless man in a sad voice. “But then I found this.” He took something out of his pocket and raised it to the light, revealing a rugged old collar. “Now I fear that someone may have taken her, or worse.”

“I’m sure she will turn up. If it doesn’t, you can always find a new bitch.”

The man looked at her oddly. “I suppose,” he shrugged.

He looked like he was about to leave. He usually chatted her up, especially if she was alone, but this time he his mind seemed elsewhere. He cared about his dogs.

Even these homeless man’s dogs have been loved more than I have.

Suddenly one of the dogs approached her and licked her leg. The mutt was friendly, but dirty and full of fleas. She had always tried her best to keep her distance. But now, she felt the need.

“What a cute doggie!” she exclaimed, leaning to pet him. She did not have to bend in that direction, nor that low, but she did it anyway, her short skirt pulling up to reveal her naked ass towards the homeless man. She felt the flames of humiliation flare inside of her, but something kept her there, long second after long second, making sure that he got a good view.

The mutt was happy from the attention and licked her face. Its tongue was warm and wet. So warm and wet. Almost as much as she was, despite the horror and despite the humiliation.

“Do you wanna come see my cabin?” the homeless man asked behind her, once he was done staring.

“Yes, show me.”

They walked out of the light of the road lamps and into the dark shrubbery to the side. There was a small pathway that lead down the slope of the river bed and under the bridge. Though Gabriela had seen the man come and go from here many times, she’d never taken the path herself. The tall grass was rubbing against her thighs and getting under her skirt, the tingling of her naked skin evoking sensations of something primal and bestial.

She was under the bridge now, following the homeless man to his improvised place. It was a tiny cabin that he had managed to put together using cardboard and metal sheets, and using the bridge as a natural roof. She was surprised that it had a proper door with hinges, and a window that was stained to the point of being opaque.

What the hell am I doing?

When he opened the door and slipped in, she felt that there were still a few seconds to change her mind, to turn around and flee.

I’ve never wanted this! Please go back, not here, not now...

Being down in the darkness, under the bridge with this gruesome man and his beasts… the thought terrified as much as it excited her.

I’ve never wanted this!

She screamed in her mind, trying to convince herself. But it was a lie. Gabriela entered the cabin, closing the door behind her.

The inside was cramped and messy. The homeless man turned on a lamp, which illuminated and old mattress covered with rags, a small table made from a reel turned on its side, and a fridge with a missing door. There were cans of beer and food littered everywhere, as well as pages of newspapers and magazines that were used for isolation and cover. The two hounds darted past her and slipped into a giant cardboard box each, where there were blankets and food for them. A third box was left vacant, the bowl of the missing dog still full.

And then his hands were all over her. He came from behind, grabbing her waist to pull her closer and slipping his hands up underneath her shirt. The futile thoughts of resistance left her mind, replaced by the raw desire bubbling up from the depths of her mind. She felt the rough, callous texture of his fingers rub against her nipples, smearing them with something oily. Just like she deserved. She couldn’t see it, but could only imagine that it was thick and black. The filth was on her. Soon it would be inside her.

Oh God...

But her God had already fallen down the drain. She let the old man touch her all over, making her quiver like a cat in heat under his caresses. He was getting bolder by the second, moving from her breasts and belly and down to the wetness between her legs.

Gabriela was in a trance that she couldn’t break. She swirled around and pushed him to sit on the mattress, then got down and crawled towards him on all fours, stepping through the garbage on the floor. Something wet and sticky touched her leg. Perhaps a spill from the canned food, or something worse. She shuddered but couldn’t bring herself to halt.

Down with the trash...

The homeless man licked his lips and beckoned her closer. Then her head was nuzzled in his crotch, fingers undoing his belt. His flaccid member appeared to her like a deformed, overgrown earthworm, wriggling at the slightest touch of her fingers. It was lying in wait, ready to spill its corruption inside her innocent body. The only thing that disgusted her more than the sight of it was how wet it made her. Then her pristine cherry-color lips wrapped around the head and welcomed it into her warmth. Her tongue wrapped around the shaft, making it grow and throb in her mouth. There was still work to do before the filth could be spilled inside her.

It would have been easier if he grabbed her hair and forced her face down, or flipped her around and had his way with her. At least then, she’d have some excuse, some veil of pretense that it wasn’t her choice. But the fucker did not give her that mercy. He just sat there, perfectly content.

And she couldn’t stop. There was a bubbling hatred rising in her stomach, a hatred towards the man, a hatred towards the cursed old hag, a hatred towards her friend that had suggested the seance in the first place; but it was foremost a hatred towards herself and her desires, the lust and wickedness in her soul she no longer had the strength to deny.

Gabriela deserved this and she knew it. She was a terrible person, a sinner in God’s garden, an abomination that was drawn to the filth, had always been drawn to it. Her innocence longed to be devoured, her maiden-fair skin to be covered in bruises and smears, her dignity and decency - shredded to a million pieces and trampled in the dirt. It was a truth that she understood to the bottom of her core.

Even now, as she was crawling on all fours, defiling her tender mouth with the deformed member of that filthy man, she could feel her true nature betray her; she could sense the burning in her belly, the itch and need of her cursed nature. Her head went up and down and her entire body moved with it, rocking back and forth, and each time she leaned forward to fill her mouth with more filth, she felt her depraved cunt stretch open and beckon - gaping, wanting, longing to be filled too.

I am despicable.

It was all a matter of time. Soon the fat homeless man would no longer be satisfied with just her mouth, he would get up and force her down on the mattress, force himself upon her and put her in her rightful place. It was a matter of time.

My place.

There was a sudden sense of warmth, followed by the bumpy texture of a canine tongue licking off her dripping juices. It took her by surprise and at first she didn’t even have the time to be embarrassed. But then the mutt hopped on top of her and there were a pair of paws clenching her hips and something warm and wet that poked against her. She froze in the moment.

“Down boy, go away!” cried the homeless man with a hoarse voice, startled out of his happy place. The dog didn’t obey and he shouted again, rising to shoo it away.

There was a brief moment when their eyes interlocked. Her lips were still around his cock, a line of drool dripping down her mouth. An electric tension filled the air and for that instant Gabriela could see herself in his eyes, could see the whore crawling on the floor, sunken so low that even a dog could climb on top of her.

Is this my place?

How could she live with herself if even in her darkest disgust she felt arousal? How could she ever pretend to be anything but a grotesque mockery of a faithful maiden?

The movement was slight, but undeniable. Her legs crawled a little farther apart, her back bent a little lower to ground. The man stared at her. In his gaze, there was surprise, then disbelief, then disgust. Of course he would be disgusted with her. Even he had some morals, even he who lived with beasts had not fallen so low.

Unlike her. And now her lust spread like an infection, from her to him. His fat lips curled in a twisted smile and he sat back. His big, heavy hand lay on the back of her head, and pushed her down, shoving him down her throat. And then the mutt was inside her.

It was the worst of her fears come true. It was bestial, it was primal, it was rough. And she couldn’t forgive herself for how good it felt. It was wrong, on so many levels. The shape, the size, the slimy texture. And despite all that it was pleasure, it was pure bliss that she had longed for all her life. Every thrust stole an embarrassed squeal, muffled by the cock in her mouth.

The homeless man finally seemed to understand who she was, what she was. The deformed worm grew harder and longer, throbbing and wriggling in her mouth. His hand pushed her all the way down, shoving her face down to the root of the stem. She felt him at the back of her throat, swelling like a sore thumb, like an infected corpse ready to burst with puss. And then it came, a foul spray, viscous and sticky, a seed of depravity and decay that she eagerly gulped down.

Behind her, the beast followed suite. A swelling at the base of its member locked it in place, while it spurred out more filth deep inside her. It seemed to last for hours, going on and on. Her mind span and she felt like sinking deep into the ground, deep to the fiery core of the Earth. Where she belonged.

“I never imagined you would be this kind of girl,” said the homeless man. “I think this is for you now.”

He was holding the red collar of the missing dog. Somehow it felt right. She bent her head down, allowing him to wrap the collar around and tighten it around her neck. There was a finality to it and Gabriela felt something inside her snap.

When the mutt was finally done with her, she couldn’t lift her eyes up. She just stood there, a broken mess. The man got up from the mattress, leaving her head to fall down on it. There was a dirty spot right in front of her face. She tried to identify what it was from, but her vision was growing blurry and there were too many smells mixing up in the air. It didn’t matter.

The homeless man got behind her and pushed his dog away. Her skirt was lifted up and part of the filth oozed out of her, dripping onto the floor. That didn’t matter either - there was plenty left inside of her, more than enough to seep into every corner of her soul.

The old geezer didn’t seem to mind being second. Gabriela felt his touch on her wet skin, felt him slide on the gooey slippery surface that had once been her innocence. It was almost endearing. Somebody cared for her. Somebody wanted her, even now. Even from the depths of her depravity, she was still good enough. For him.

He came in fast and hard. Still on the floor on all fours, her hips bounced back and forth against his hanging belly, making a wet, splashing sound. Her face rubbed against the mattress, pushed with a force that she did not fight. Old candy. The dirty spot was from an old candy, flattened and molten into the surface of the tissue. She could see it now that her head was shoved on top of it.

Fast. He was getting faster. Tight around her waist. She was so slender he only needed one hand to grab her. The other moved to her neck, pulled the collar towards him. Hard.

Her head sprang upwards, arching her back towards the ceiling. Her vision shifted from the grey surface of the mattress to the gloomy space of the room. And darkness. The light of the TV screen barely illuminated the cardboard walls with bleak colours, but there was no sound.

Harder. The collar tightened around her neck as the man pulled on it. Her breathing was shallow and difficult. Her mind was dizzy and something primal awakened deep within. She tightened around the deformed member inside her, daring him, begging him to spill his filth inside her.

Warmth and wetness. One of the dogs had began to lick her face. It was like it was telling her that she could let go. That it would be OK. The collar was even tighter. So tight.

Air. She gasped for air but her hips shook violently, demanding satisfaction. Then it came - suddenly and violently, as the old man groaned, holding her tightly underneath him. The room grew darker still. It was done.

When she came to her senses a minute later, a little bowl was placed in front of her. The young girl dug into the stale dog food, the best that she’d ever had. As she crunched at it, the second dog climbed on top of her, eager to take its turn. The man grabbed another beer and sat next to her, turning up the volume of old TV. Her moans were drowned with the broken sound of a sports commentator. The man gently patted her head as his second hound had his way with her. The first one had already recovered and was eagerly waiting its turn again.

Gabriela closed her eyes. The road here had been so dangerous. But now she was home.