Abi's profile

I really am singing for survival, doing other things for survival aswell, letting a guy touch my face, run his hand roughly over my chest, grope his way under my jeans. He slaps me as he does me, sometimes putting his hand above the head as the early victor, a very early victor I say, forgetting that I'm a person, who just happens to be a woman. I re-apply my make-up in the dim mirror, Place on my red coat, all the time not looking at the obese male figure, spread out like a sleeping donkey o...

As I turn around on the stool, They've made it all extravagant, The ladies either side of a curtain, pull apart the fabric, to reveal a long mirror, and in this window to another world, Is me. I was scared I'd look like a meringue, but instead I look like how i've always wanted, Beautiful, I want to make him proud when I walk to meet him, all those smiling faces, but one I cannot see. Tears well up, and as soon as one trickles down, the rest spurt out, the image becomes blurred, the beautiful...

I choose the back garden for you to be buried, because that was you're favourite place, place I'm being selfish, You were right, I can't stand to have you too far away. Sometimes, day or night, rain or sun, cold or hot, I'll go out, lie down on the spot, and talk to you. You can't do that in a proper graveyard, but I wouldn't care, people can stare, but I miss you, so nothing else matters. Why did you leave baby? Why couldnt you have stayed? What am I going to do? My head rings with questions...

I'm lying to everyone, but I can't help it, I know what i'm doing is wrong, and the guilt is slowly killing me, how ironic. I needed a reason, something to keep my job and friends, then my baby got a cold, I told everyone she had Leukamia. There was a fundraiser, people that hated me were now talking to me, I've never felt so welcome, I never want this feeling to end, but the guilt is slowly eating me inside. I can feel my heart rot, as if maggots chewed inside, its hurting me to just smile, ...

What is it like to have compasses stabbed into you for fun? What is it like to see false smiles cheering you on, secretly hoping you will topple to the ground? What’s it like not being able to fight back against a rapist who takes your disability and uses it against you? Nisa has the answers to all of these questions. This story is about Nisa, who, ever since she as little can remember being jeered at by people, admiring the bullies for showing their apparent hatred of her race and disability...