Post by Violet Doe on Sept 10, 2015 0:26:37 GMT -5
LAS VEGAS CENSUS PLEASE FILL OUT THIS FORM AND RETURN BY MAIL. VIOLET DOE  BASIC INFORMATION
FREE FORM APPLICATION NOW MY NECK IS OPEN WIDE [trigger warning for mentions of rape and statutory rape] You are born Violetta Bukova. You are born with a head full of dark hair and eyes that never stop looking. They’re blue at first but by the time you’re two months old, they’re muddy and green. They never stop peering. Your bones are made of steel to keep out the harsh Moscow air, which comes in handy. It’s 1939 when your parents drop you outside an orphanage and disappear. Or maybe not your parents—you’re not convinced you had anyone but your mother, and she didn’t care much for you, either—and they take you even. There is war brewing across the land as Stalin rules the Soviet people with an iron first. Everyone is restless with the knowledge that tensions are rising slowly, slowly. The world explodes in June of 1941 when the Germans attack their land, stopping mere miles from Moscow. No one remembers the orphans and the poor, and the orphanage disintegrates. You stick with some of the other kids and steal from the shops, praying that you’re not caught. Stealing from the people is stealing from the government, and you’re too young to be hanged. Once the war ends, there are even more orphans than Moscow can contain. You find yourself fighting with other orphans, claiming turf—there are only so many stores to steal from. It’s so cold, and you’re so cold, you wonder if it would be better to just give up. SICK OF FEELING USED You are renamed Violet Doe. No one likes the Russians; they’re communists and liars and they supported the Nazis and invaded Poland. Your identity is stripped away from you in less than a minute, and you never realized how much you loved your heritage until it’s gone. You don’t speak a lot of English, but you learn quickly. Either learn or die—no one speaks Russian except the two other girls that came to America with you. It doesn’t take you too long, but you feel like you’re losing a part of yourself with every word you learn. Reading is even harder, and you’re not very good at math, but they say that you don’t need to worry about those things—just know how to be sexy, they tell you. Just know how to seduce a man and speak to him in English, and you’ll be great at your job. The first thing they do is clean you and strip you of all your body hair. You’re only sixteen, but you’re suddenly a woman. They teach you to wear makeup and how to keep your legs clear of hair, and they teach you how to make men bend to your will. You give them looks of longing, and they become putty in your hands. You don’t like it, but you’re good at it, and it’ll get you money. Once you get money, you can stop doing this. Maybe you can go back to Russia, maybe you can find your family. Maybe you can swear off English for the rest of your life. Maybe you can meet someone nice and settle down. Maybe someone will love you, eventually. You’re seventeen, and your virginity is sold for $20. You get $5. YOU’RE GONNA GET BRUISED You are whoever they want you to be. You are sexy or bashful or smitten. You are innocent or a vixen; you help their fantasies come true, and they give you money and pretty clothes and strings of pearls. Sometimes you pick a few extra dollars from their wallets or take one of their cuff links when they go off to the bathroom. They never notice. After all, you deserve it after all you’ve been through. There have been enough unwanted advances that you figure stealing money off a few random rich men doesn’t seem bad at all. There was a time that you tried to leave, but it didn’t work well. It didn’t take long for you to run out of money, and it’s not like you have other skills. You still can’t read very well, but you’re at least fluent in English now and can hide your accent flawlessly. (“No one wants to fuck a communist,” She told you, her sharp purple nails digging into your jaw.) You end up back at Roxie’s with your head held high. You’re determined to get enough money and to really get out of this hell-hole. You establish strict rules for yourself to avoid getting hurt ever again. No more kissing on the lips, no more staying the night, and no more sharing personal information. You’d made the mistake of getting attached to a few reoccurring clients. No more. Now you’re going to make a name for yourself. Hell, you’re already known for being one of the best girls at the brothel, and you’re going to put that title to good use by raking in as much money as you can. You’re twenty-three; you’re still young, and the world is your oyster. Or something like that. Everything is going well when you get abducted. Kidnapped. You’re not sure if that’s the only thing that happened to you—this isn’t the first time you’ve woken up in a strange place with no memory of what happened—but this is the strangest. You pick yourself up off the ground, dust yourself off, and begin the long trek back to civilization. You can’t help but wonder if anyone would have noticed if you’d never returned. |
Last Edit: Sept 10, 2015 0:32:19 GMT -5 by Violet Doe
