Prologue: Part Two: The Slut

Natalie looked down at her appearance in the mirror. She saw her her face, her tanned skin, the golden smoky eyeshadow she'd taken hours to apply looking a bit much with the long lashes she had on. Her soft green eyes glinted. Her lipstick was red. Her red shirt, sequinned along the trailing neckline, fit her well. Her pants were form fitting, and her heels high.

She looked exactly like what they whispered, what they called her behind their back.

Natalie tried not to let it bother her. She did this to herself, after all. Still. Natalie heard a knock at her apartment door, and went to open it. There stood the landlord.

He was a middle aged man with a beer belly, his hair plastered to a side to cover up the balding. He wore a shirt and had a tie on. But he looked knowingly devious. It set her off and made her uneasy. Living away from her mother was difficult and this wasn't exactly the best area either.

He raked her body, and she uncomfortably crossed her arms over her chest. "Can I help you?" He grinned, leaning on the door frame. "I think I can help you. I haven't gotten this month's rent." Natalie groaned mentally. She had spent the money on getting food in the fridge, and taxes. There was nothing left to give. "Can you give me a week? I'll have it by then." She said pleadingly. He shook his head. "I don't do extensions here. However . . . I suppose maybe there's a way you can pay me." He said, and Natalie's heart filled with dread at the suggestiveness in his voice. "I'd really rather . . . wash your car? Maybe?"

The landlord shook his head.  "I have needs . . . you can help me with them." Natalie took a step back as he came closer, grabbing her wrist.

No.

No.

NO.

She tried to wriggle out of his grip but the landlord was surprisingly stronger. Natalie gritted her teeth and seethed. "Let. Me. Go." He shook his head. "Not unless you want to be evicted. You want this . . . you're asking for it. Look at your clothes." He whispers near her ear, causing a wave of revulsion. To roil into Natalie.

She kneed his groin, and as he yelled and fell back, she slapped him across the face.

"Pack your things, you're gone, bitch." He sneered through pain. Natalie was too angry to care, as she grabbed her things and began the long process of packing. She heard the slam of the landlord leaving, and shuddered again.

No one was ever asking for it unless they actually asked.

*****

Natalie looked at the front of her mother's small house, and smiled nostalgically. She'd held her first tea party here. She'd played with her first teddy bear. She'd bought her first book and read it here. Her mom had fainted the first time here.

Natalie's smile faltered, but her conviction (shaky as it was) to move in with her mother, crumbled away like sand. Her mother, and Norah, her caretaker, had trouble surviving as was. Natalie didn't need to make it worse.

Without another word, although with a twinge of sadness at the waste of time she could've spent on the road, Natalie opened the car door and slammed it shut as she squeezed herself into the seat, and gently entered the key into ignition, turning the steering wheel and focusing on the road.

As she pulled out of the driveway, and looked back at the house, thought she saw a curtain shift, but figured it was nothing.

When she reached the main road, her thoughts turned back towards what happened a few hours ago.

Men see me as prey because of how I choose to dress. Why can guys go out in public shirtless? Isn't that showing off skin? Why am I forced to stay as submissive as possible? Why am I the one showing too much skin? The one asking for it? How is that equal in gender? How are we, as a society equal in gender, if even the way we dress is ruled by medieval thinking?

Natalie turned the corner and drove the car into the highway.

Why is it that I am the one seen as prey? Why can I not be portrayed as the hunter? And when I am, why must it seem so taboo, and forbidden, and gross? How is that equal?

The highway forked into two exits. One kept going, and the other led to New York City.

Most people would turn the car out of lame and past the white line that bordered the highway to make a proper choice about it. But Natalie had already realized she wasn't normal. No, those that were had already told her how they felt about her. Selnade, NY. Selvage High School, and the words they uttered about her.

Bitch.

Slut.

Man-eater.

Whore.

Natalie gritted her teeth at the last of those. Her eyes resembled green fire, boring into the sign. She knew she had to get out. Get out of the town where all they wanted was her body. Or not even that.

A place where misfits flourished. A place where the dingy and ghetto were the way of life. A place she could be proud to call home.

New York City.

Natalie turned the wheel towards the exit on the right side, and pressed on the gas pedal.

She was on her way to the city of starlets and celebrities. The city where everyone was around. Where everyone could find one thing that each human needs most of all.

A safe haven.

----

And end. This is a bit shorter. You may notice a bit of a difference in this chapter. Why? Because Natalie isn't the same person as Darcy. Darcy is depressed, obviously, for reasons to be told later. Natalie isn't. She's angry. And restless.

Mucho difference.

So how the chapters will work:

In big chunks of the story, there are going to be four quarters. They will all mention the character's name in the chapters.

What do you think of Nat? Is she a slut like they say? Or is society's misconception misplaced? Comment.

Vote.

Read.

Review.

<3

~Wolf