It was a particularly cold night. Rebecca pulled the old dirty blanket tightly around her shoulders, wishing she had enough coins for a hit. Just one hit, and she'd make it though the darkest hours of this ice cold winter night. But Rebecca didn't have enough change. There weren't as many people out on the streets on a snowy night like this. It wasn't very often that she had to ride it out sober, but on the nights that she did, she suffered badly. Not as much from the withdrawal, but from the cold, the hunger, and worst of all, the loneliness. Too scared to fall asleep in fear of being attacked or freezing to death, she'd lie in her corner, shivering and thinking, all night long. Thinking about the events in life that got her to this point, thinking about all the awful things she'd done to survive. Counting every horrible thing that had happened to her so that she could justify to herself why she was where she is today. It was nights like these where by sunrise, she felt so lonely and empty inside, that she wished the cold had taken her.
Rebecca was just 12 years old when she first found herself on the street. Her mother had been beaten to death by her stepfather. Her stepfather had been taken to prison. The welfare system missed her completely. She'd been sitting in that old apartment for a week when the landlord threw her out because he had new tenants for the place. When she first stepped out, she was frightened, she didn't know the first thing about responsibility. But by nightfall, a lovely lady named Angel took Rebecca under her wing. Angel gave Rebecca a new name, a hit and then sent her straight into some old man's car. He looked like he could have been about 50 and from the wealthier part of town. It wasn't the hit, that enabled Rebecca to do her job that night. It wasn't the fact that she was too young and didn't understand what was going on - she knew all too well. It wasn't the fact that she'd seen daddy abuse mommy or that she was out on the street and needed to find a way to survive. You see, Rebecca was used to entertaining older men; she'd been doing it for as long as she could recall. They'd come into the apartment, and Rebecca's stepfather would charge them by the hour. Hell, Rebecca's stepfather would help himself most nights too. So you see, not much different happened there that night, other than the fact that this time, Rebecca got a hit. Yes, it was the escape she'd been dreaming of, and that night, an addict was born.
The cold had gotten into Rebecca's bones. She reluctantly got up to go find some newspaper or something, anything to keep the cold out. She hobbled along to the nearest bench, some kid was out cold - "lucky sod", she thought to herself. She grabbed the newspaper he'd been hiding under, and hobbled back over to her corner. As she sank back into position, her mind went back to better days:
In Rebecca's teenage years, every man had wanted a piece of her. At one stage, she felt like the highest paid prostitute in the city. She reminded herself that she wasn't used to much in life so anything at all made her feel like a millionaire. There was this wealthy business man that used to call on her every Friday night. He was young and good looking, unlike just about every other customer she had. He'd say nice things to her, buy her nice clothes, and once in a while even take her out to dinner. She'd fantasize about him asking her hand in marriage, moving into his house, driving his car, having his children, and most of all, spending Christmas with his family. But naturally, none of that ever happened. He stopped coming, he found a new toy; someone younger, prettier. The night she found out, she tried to OD. Unfortunately, it didn't work. She woke up on the street, naked and covered in her own vomit. Nobody wanted a useless prostitute covered in vomit at the PleasureHouse. What would customers think? And what if she had died there? That wouldn't do well for business now would it?
But that was many years ago. Today Rebecca sat on the street, huddled up against the back of a busy restaurant, waiting for the scraps to be thrown out, aged and weathered. She'd lost a foot too. Silly little cut it had been; caused an infection that she didn't have the money to treat. When she became so ill that she found herself on death’s door, the state hospital amputated the problem. Again, the universe had been cruel and had spared her life.
It was then that a special feeling came over Rebecca. At first, she couldn't identify it. She had never felt it before. She didn't know if it was physical or if it was an emotion. And then it hit her - it was peace, calm. Something was happening, and it made her feel even better than any hit she'd ever taken before. The cold started to fade and a numbness came over, yet somehow, it warmed her chest. Her eyelids started to hang heavy and her breathing started to slow. Rebecca knew her night had finally come, and unlike she had anticipated, here she was, fearless, welcoming the nothingness that lay ahead. The ULTIMATE nothingness. "Oh, you finally show me mercy my Lord" - and with that final thought, Rebecca released her final breath. Just then, the boy on the bench had woken from the cold. His trip had run out, or so he thought, when he looked up and saw a man in a shredded outfit and no shoes. He had long white beard; the kind you only see in fantasy movies on wise wizards. But what really struck the boy, was a set of magnificent angelic wings that stretched out far into the street. He was standing with Rebecca, hand in hand. "Are you ready?" the man asked. "I've been ready for a long time my Lord" Rebecca answered "then let's get you home, there's a hot meal and a warm bed waiting for you" Rebecca felt the hot tears stream down her cheeks, “how am I worthy?" she asked, “who is worthy, if not all my children?" the Lord answered.
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