I’m a rogue. A rascal who pretends to think he’s smart.
She earns money from prostitution.
I was a “watchdog”, or watchdog, in her casino.
We live to live. No ideals, no goals, no pursuits. At least I do, because I’m a rogue.
We lived together. She stayed with me because I was a shelter for her who was alone in a foreign land, after all she was a woman and needed a chest to lean on.
I stayed with her because I “loved” her, her body and her money. She was never stingy with me because she was a whore, a cheap whore.
And I accept it with peace of mind, for I am a rogue, a shameless rogue. Rascals are heartless, whores are loveless. I know that and so does she.
No man can stand the fact that his wife used to be a prostitute unless he knows nothing about her past. At least I think so. Rascals are human. But we’re still together.
Because of her I got into a fight with someone, got hurt, and got hurt bad. Fighting is as much a habit for me as having to wash my face and brush my teeth every day.
Injuries, on the other hand, are frequent. In the hospital she cried, she said I was stupid. I said I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you as long as I was there and I would do anything for you.
She was moved to cry again. And? I fought because of the defense of the hooligan’s “dignity”. She is my woman, moving my woman is obviously not put me in the eyes of my provocative behavior.
I can’t let it go. Otherwise, how can I go on living in the future? Why would I say that? That’s a joke. I’m sure every man would say that.
I’m not a genius at talking about panic, but she’s a gullible fool.
I was addicted to gambling and had nothing. I lived at her place, parasite-like. It was a single apartment she rented, only 30 square meters, and it was already crowded with two people living in it.
I moved in anyway. She also wanted me to come, saying that only a man could be considered a home, and that she liked this home, and that only when she came home did she feel like a human being. She asked me if I liked her and if I thought she was dirty.
I said I liked it and wouldn’t mind. She said she would quit after two more years of work to earn enough money to leave this dirty city and go there as long as she was with me to live a normal life.
I said yes. In my opinion, she is out of her mind. Can a prostitute live a normal life? Maybe. Can a hoodlum? Maybe. Can a whore and a hooligan live a normal life together? No, they can’t.
What’s hers is mine. She buys my food and drink, my clothes and belts and shoes, even pants and socks for me.
She looks very energetic, and if she’s happy during the day she’ll cook me a “nice” breakfast, but she’s not a very good cook, so maybe I’m just used to eating out!
. But I still eat a lot and act like I’m enjoying it and say yummy. She also often drags me shopping, it’s her hobby, women are like that. I have an aversion to shopping, men are like that.
So push it if you can, put it off if you can, and if you can’t avoid it, go for the perfume. She didn’t like to buy make-up, but it was the wrapper she sold her body in, and she had to buy it.
She likes to buy dolls and stuff like that like a little kid, and her room, which is not spacious, is almost full of these strange things, and it takes a lot of time to organize her pile of toys every day, but she still enjoys it.
She also likes to buy household utensils like a housewife, and even choosing clothes for me has become a great pleasure for her. What I can’t help is that she always asks me for my opinion when she buys something. I just say it fits, it’s good, it’s beautiful.
Anyway, I’m not the poor guy who pays for it, so whatever. The funniest thing is that once she dragged me to take wedding photos. In her wedding dress, no one knew she was a whore, she was like a real bride.
Every time we do it she always likes to have me in her arms and fall asleep slowly on my chest. I asked and and other people do not want to do so? She said cut, not miles.
Who believes it?
I didn’t care for her very much. Rarely asked about her life, and she didn’t want to mention it, so there was only a vague understanding of her former self; she was born in a small town with an animal of a stepfather, and she ran away.
She said that only with me can she feel happy, and only sex with me can she feel good, and I …. I’m the only family she has in this city, in this world, and she can’t live without me.
I said me too. And I said I’ll always love you. She asked really? I said …. She asked how far is forever I said …..
Addicted to gambling I asked her for money I was very good at it. Once, I said ….. She gave.
Several times, I said…she said no. I said …. She said no. I said …. She gave it again.
N times, I said…she said no. I said …. She said no. I said …. She said not to fall for it again.
I say…I say again …. I say again …. She had to give it.
We lived a long time. I didn’t expect that. Maybe because she indulged me too much. Just make a request and she’ll grant me whatever she can. Money, body.
But time has made me lose interest in her body, only money. I had sensed that she couldn’t stay away from me, so treating her the same way as I started was the difference between heaven and hell.
No longer say some sweet words, not eating her cooking, not shopping with her, not ….. Rambling beatings for no reason, can’t get money, and even used to beat her half to death, and often drove her away to bring women home for the night.
Once she got pregnant and said it was mine. Said she didn’t want to do it anymore, she wanted to give birth. Holy shit, joke. It probably has 100 daddies, right?
You quit? What do I expect to turn over after losing so much money? I didn’t deny it, but said it had to be aborted. She was reluctant, but went ahead.
Then I found out she didn’t fight it and I got annoyed and said how are you sure it’s mine? She said the birth could be made firm, I said no, she insisted.
I hit her, punched her in the stomach in spite of her death, forced her to pull her, coaxed her with flowery words to get an abortion, and the doctor said it was too late to be dangerous …. Hit.
Due to multiple abortions, she could not have children for the rest of her life. She cried so hard that I cajoled her for three or four days. Not long after, I hit her again, reasoning that if you don’t “work”, we’ll go drinking?
I rarely went to her place when I wasn’t short of money. She also said she wanted to leave me, but could not withstand my sweet words and threats, she could not leave me and expected me to come back to her.
She was like a gambler to me, expecting a miracle when she knew there was no hope.
Soon after, I went in. Four years. Assault, hooliganism…some minor offenses roped into one, four years.
I regret it. Everyone who came in regrets it.
How far is four years? Depends on how you spend it. Here, four months is longer than your four years. Try it if you don’t believe me.
What are you looking forward to here? Why live?1 To get out of jail 2 to have someone to visit 3 to have my sentence reduced. I have family and they are pissed that I got 4 years. If it had been a death sentence I think they would have had a shambling celebration. Although I have friends who come over, it’s only once a year and a half. She’s the only one who comes to see me often, and since it’s far away, she can only come once a month at the beginning of the month. When she came, she would come with cigarettes, food, and supplies…naturally, so she was like a goddess to me at that time. At that time, I made the most profound review of her, saying that when I come out, I will definitely bring you a good life. I also said “I love you”, “to be together”, now it seems that what I said at that time is true, but the shelf life is a little shorter, easy to deteriorate.
I went into the Labor. No fool wants to come out. In the Labor House, the sentence was reduced quickly, the treatment was good, there was fat meat to eat, and there was a little allowance to buy two cartons of cigarettes to smoke. We often come out to work and enjoy the sunshine and breeze. Inside, we could also enjoy the “wind”. But that is in an iron cage like room, people circled inside like a pen of livestock, the purpose is to fear that we mold hair.
“You don’t know what you value until you’ve lost it.” I used to care about freedom. But now I know how valuable it is. Even a beggar is worthy of my envy, yearning for a free life. Inside I think a lot, longing for the “future” is a good way to kill time. I really want to do a good job of “people” with her to live a “happy” life.
Get out soon. I’m hanging in there pretty good. I was very righteous, I went down for all the things she brought for me every time, and I never bullied or allowed anyone to bully. They envied me and said I was blessed. Their wives, women such as her one-tenth is not in vain with a time. I am pleased. I look forward to her. They are also, with her money, I let my friend help me four sparing, I reduce the line 3 times, six months early out.
We still live together. But this time I’m going straight. She was still working as a prostitute, trying to make money. I used her savings from the years of selling her body and the 100,000 she had borrowed for me to buy a van for short trips. I ran as hard as I could, and lost 20 pounds on irregular sleep, just to get the money for the van (partly her entire savings from selling her body and partly from her friends) and my gambling debts (from my loved ones who used to love me) paid off sooner. We tried to save money in every way we could, and she didn’t shop in her preferences, and even at meals she only ate so little, with the excuse of losing weight, leaving it all for me, saying she knew that driving for long periods of time was quite exhausting. It was a bitter time, but one of the happiest periods of our lives. I said after 2 years of sticking it out we’d go far away.
The car was bought and I moved out of her place. I couldn’t stand the hardship because I’m a hooligan. Why bother if you’re blessed? Payback? To hell with it.
A little capital in hand, I speculate, and sewing. As long as the money, I do everything, full of things like things that are small hooligans do things, age a large number and then fool that pure fool. People over 30 days past noon, I can not miss this man’s life “noon”. After a few efforts of my small gains, if not pay back the money, I can spend the days of wine and liquor to live quite rich days. She often came to me, but did not say a word about paying back the money. I try to alienate her, may be better days want to kick her away, see her is uncomfortable, the air is full of dirty rotten smell, the heart can not speak of boredom. She sensed it. But what can she do? Maybe that’s just my nature, I used to blame myself, but that can’t be changed. Until one day I got annoyed and hit her. She cried, scolded me not human, is a beast conscience eaten by dogs.
I fell in love with a girl. It was because she had a huge family and she was a blessing to my fortune. But one day this girl broke up with me for an unknown reason. After a few inquiries, I found out that she had come and told her everything about my past. I was furious. I went to look for her. The casino said she hadn’t come to work for a long time.
I’m back home. I hadn’t been back for a long time, but the locks hadn’t been changed. I used the original key to open the door, the house is very messy, and full of alcohol, smoke and perfume smell mixture. She was lying there watching TV, and her figure was haggard. Even I felt sorry for her, after all, she used her youth to exchange all the money on my body. These years of prostitution had destroyed her body and soul, and I had stabbed her deeply in the heart. I feel a little guilty, she is like this is all because of me, after all, the conscience has not been eaten by the dog all eaten.
She looked surprised to see me coming and when she realized that I hadn’t eaten dinner she was very happy to prepare it for me. In the kitchen I explained my intentions and we argued again. I said she had ruined my career and she said I had ruined her life. She cursed at me, saying how much she had paid for me, and how the debts were weighing her down…she wanted to break off with me, and asked me to pay her back immediately.
I was going to give her back the money, as for living together, that was out of the question, maybe I would give her material compensation. But enraged, I broke her head with a teacup and said pay back the money? Where is the proof that you lent me the money? She was confused and said if she doesn’t pay back the money, she will take it to court. I said go ahead. Go ahead and sue me, I’ll wait for you and slammed the door. With my current interpersonal relations, to her such a weak woman from abroad can mix me down? Joke point, right?
I’m still living like a human being. I used to be called “boss” but now I’m called “manager”. I’ve become a member of high society. Black and white mixed since there is a pattern, she did not sue me, and did not come back to me, busy not open I forgot her in the heart of a corner.
In the middle of the banquet, she came. She was out of shape, her hair was disheveled, her dark eyes with deep aftershave lines, and she came in a rage with a fast dirty medicine cloth on her head. She came to mess with me. Crying and shouting and cursing, lifting the table, kicking the chair, cursing me doggedly, who stops cursing who, to a shrew in the street, cursing, waiting for me to hit her. All of them are some dignitaries. Can I do it? I was embarrassed and didn’t know what to do, forcibly pulled her out.
She came to me once more, on the street. I didn’t even hit her. It’s not that I didn’t want to, I couldn’t, because of status.
I went to her with 80,000 dollars. She still lived there, the locks still hadn’t been changed. When I arrived she was curled up in a corner, covered with a thick quilt, and her head was missing its medicated cloth replaced by an ugly scar. Her appearance made me laugh. I threw the money on her quilt, said money I will return you, you do not mess with me, how much money you want I will compensate you. After saying that I turned around and left. She used the money to hit me in the back of the head, all over the sky, indifferently said rich you are terrific? You owe me a never pay back ….
She really didn’t come back to me.
I’ve been to a few more women. The rich ones cared about my birth, the poor ones cared about my possessions. They were very worldly and made me think that only 16,7 little girls are simply cute. But I’m 30 years old.
I was swindled. It was the man I had been treating as a brother who cheated me out of almost half my fortune. Since then I don’t believe in any relationship, it’s just based on profit.
I was sick. Though many people came to see me. But it was all for work, and false pleasantries were not what I needed. What I need is real concern, from the heart. I have felt that I am, somewhat, alone. I think of her, but I’m sensible, I know we wouldn’t do well together.
I went to her place one more time with 40,000 dollars. I’m not too generous after being scammed, but I’ll feel better this way. This time she didn’t say anything. But the money she didn’t look at.
I thought it was over from there. But it wasn’t. She came again. I was having dinner with a guest. It took me by surprise.
She was still a bit scruffy and she couldn’t see any expression on her face. She didn’t come to mess with me either. But I was afraid that she was making a scene or I forced her out. I talked to her a lot, but she didn’t seem to listen anymore. I was still speaking again when a bright, sharp knife suddenly appeared in her hand and swung at me, saying she wanted to kill me. Daggers can be life threatening, but she was a woman after all. She just swung it at me. I was cut by the suddenness of her. But she was still knocked to the ground by me. I hit hard. Because I very much only cared about myself, about my life. She couldn’t hurt me anymore. She killed herself. Slit her wrists and waved a sharp knife to stop anyone coming near. Blood dripped all over the place.
The people there were stunned, and so was I. It was at that moment that I realized there were people out there who would hurt their own lives for me.
I rushed up, getting a few cuts before I grabbed her knife. Holding her hand field down, I hoisted her, who was as thin and almost as light as a chicken, over my shoulder with only one thought, take her to the hospital. Walking to my car, I realized I couldn’t drive because I had to hold her wounds with one hand. Drive with one hand? No way, she wouldn’t be good enough to go to the hospital with me. I stopped a couple of cabs, but who would dare pull two bloody people covered in blood into a car? I still carry the sharp knife, which I probably forgot to throw away because I was so nervous.
I was crazy too. Luckily, a knowledgeable jungle friend came to my rescue.
In the hospital she still refused to cooperate with treatment and was forcibly injected with a sedative squeeze ….
For the next while, I gave up my job and stayed with her every day, afraid that she would do something stupid again. But the two of us seldom spoke. Because I don’t want to be deceiving her, not telling lies, naturally there is nothing to say. I don’t speak the truth anymore. I just want to show with my actions that I want to accept you.
I said as soon as you are cured I will take you far away. She laughed and said, “Do you want to give up your current achievements and start over with me in a strange place? I said yes, she laughed again. I said believe me, I will not hurt you, I will take you, life with you, give me another chance, the last time. She smiled happily, smiling in a way that made me a little overwhelmed.
She’s nearly healed, looks great and is in a good mood.
A very big and lucrative deal came up, but I didn’t go for it and remained with her. She talked me into letting me go to work and not worry about her when it was just her impulse. I said wait until I pick you up from the hospital.
The day she was discharged from the hospital, I went to pick her up and the nurse told me she had left in the morning. When I asked who she was with, the nurse said she left alone. She had gone home. I knew her.
I went back to my “home” and the house was still so dirty. The landlord said she hadn’t paid the rent for a long time and asked me if I still wanted to live there. …. I looked for her everywhere, but she just disappeared. Maybe she’s gone for a break, she’ll be back, I know her.
I found the nurse and asked if she left anything behind when she left. The nurse shook her head.
I think she’ll come back. I know her.
I went back to my busy schedule, but was thinking about her all the time.
It’s been a long time, I should go back to the “home” to see. I found the house was neat and tidy, clean and tidy. I was so excited that she had come back! I waited for her at “home”, I knew she would come back, I knew her.
But she never showed up again.
I was disappointed and tried to find it. Where can I find it in a sea of people?
I’m rich again, but the richer I get, the emptier I feel. That’s when I realize that I really have nothing. I was alone. And more and more I can’t bear this loneliness. I tried not to think about her, but the more I did, the more her shadow surrounded me. The more time I had, the more alone I felt, like a shell that had lost its soul, living mechanically, working hard, earning money, earning money, not letting myself be idle, paralyzing myself with alcohol cigarettes, numbing myself.
She never came back. Maybe I didn’t know her? She just left? Left without leaving anything? Not even a note. Where did she go? What city could take a woman like her? Is she doing well without support? Is she still being cheated ….
Can’t lie to myself anymore. I need her. I went to find her in the town where she was born. It wasn’t a very big town. I found his house, but only saw his animal stepfather. I didn’t hit him because he was already a pretty bad old man. It probably won’t be long before I’m the same way.
I even found the person who scammed me, but I couldn’t find her either. I used the means to buy the original “home”, where I hung the wedding photo, put a pot of flowers on the table, and a very conspicuous note. I almost every day to go once, for the pot of flowers watering, every time full of hope to open the door of my hand will be trembling, the door opened, everything in the house is still the original everything, but I have to search a turn, want to find a trace of let me excited. Nothing but disappointment.
It’s only when you’ve lost that you know how to cherish it. Only those who have lost before will understand how I feel. I want to say: if God gives me a chance to start over from the heart I will …. But I will never have the chance to say it.
I owe her, as she said, and I can’t pay it back, ever. This debt weighs me down.
Flowers died, unexplained. “The house is sold, along with the furniture. The formalities were completed yesterday. “The house is no longer mine. I begged the owner to let me stay one more night. One last night.
In front of the computer, knocking out this paragraph, and it’s getting light. It’s getting light really early. And it’s time for me to leave.
Loneliness, a punishment from God, I plead guilty. I will be alone for the rest of my life. Carrying a debt that can never be paid.
I hummed a song and picked up a cigarette.