The Milk Saga

"You jealous little bi—" Before she knew what she did, he closed the distance between them and slapped her hard.

Each would fight back against the other for hours on end. Almost as if they enjoyed it, which was far from the truth as Lorelai would witness the aftermath.

Clutching her breast to keep herself from choking, Sonya Jone's, mother of one, pale and trembling with fear and agitation, sat down in an armchair and burst into tears.

Abraham jones slammed the door and left, an engine would start and he would be getting drunk at a bar.

Her face glowed from the light source of the small screen. Tears dripped down from her cheek, creating small puddles on her Nokia phone. Her cries filled the quiet home. She felt so alone, vulnerable, and broken.

“I don’t care.”

That’s what she said that night when she jumped out her window and fled into the darkness.

But honestly, Lorelai did. Lorelai, intoxicated by the never-ending fear that ate her alive day by day, would never admit that to others, though. Fear used to stop her from leaving for the night. Now, it only crept into her soul when she thought about it.

She couldn't live there anymore, the house was made of lies and betrayal. Lorelai Jones pulled out her luggage and stuffed her belongings in it. After she was done, she scribbled a note to the deceitful man and woman and grabbed her moped keys. Taking one last look at the house, she left without any second thoughts.

Four stops later, she rose and tucked the book away, wading through the throngs of people to the door as the train slowed. Cruel weather forced her to take shelter in the circus for several days.

/Maybe the circus would accept a freak like me, she thought, glancing over her scarred hands, arms had nail imprints dug into the skin, followed by new bruises forming. There were rough scratches on her cheeks, pale from a lack of nutrition, as well as a cut on the corner of her lip. // Wouldn't that be better than being shunned like before?//

"Welcome! Before you join, we must perform a physical examination. You know, just to see if you are fit for performance."

the skin was indeed abused, marked with burns that ranged from cigarette burns to large and dark, blistering ones. There were many bruises and scars: white or keloid, in which he grazed his fingers lightly over. Open wounds also littered over Lorelai's body, which he internally winced at.

"Ur, My dear, how old are you?"

"13? But I'm—"

"Are these from your family?"

"Yeah… How did you know that?"

"Only an assumption. Before I joined the circus, I was a cps worker. These marks look consistent with the abuse I saw back then on the job."