No one sees me, no one.
I blend in with the concrete, the lines on my face reflecting those of the lines of the pavement. I am bruised and battered, just like these streets, I call home.
Am I invisible, worthless in the corner of my domain, the bushes keeping me out of sight of the police. I shiver in the breeze, settling around me. It had rained last night, I am wet, I am cold, I am hungry.
No longer human.
Reduced to nothing but the shadow of what I once was. A beautiful young, and vibrant woman, my skin smooth, now laced with dirt and patches, that itch, over and over again. Never to heal. How could they in this filth?
There, a woman passes, her pace accelerates as she glances at m, like I am a piece of rotting flesh to be discarded.
Well, I do smell. But I have gotten used to the smell, it keeps me company, and it keeps those away who still see me, as a woman who could satisfy their sickening need. I smell worse than a dog, and it has become my armor. Ironic isn’t it?
I grin, staring toward the busy street in front of me, knowing that no one would miss me if I were just gone, disappeared.
After all, how can you miss the Invisible?
Copyright Claudia H. Blanton 2014