[ WP ] It is a sunny day , you exit your apartment . Walking your way to your work . There is no one around . Suddenly a black van gets nearby you and its door opens . Two man -which wearing black suits , black gloves and black masks- grabs you and throws you into the van .

**Drugstore Lipstick** 
 
 
 The ashtray was already full of butts stained with drugstore lipstick, but she shoved another one in and affirmed `` My kids been abducted by a cult.'' 
 Her glossy black rotary phone offered back, `` We'll you've called the right place ma'am''. 
 
 _ 
 
 
 I'm going to go to brunch every Sunday until I'm dead. No more blood of Christ. I declare that today and everyday onward it will be, orange juice and Prosecco, vodka and tomato juice. 
 
 It's Sunday morning. There's no fog. There's been fog all week but today, today it's sun dogs and the Golden Gate bridge and warm rays on my face. The city is shining, the bay is diamonds, it's Sunday and I'm not going to church. I'm not going to church ever again. 
 
 I fill my lungs. Breathing deep through my nose, and out my mouth. I find a brisker step. A celebratory pace. I've never had Vietnamese food before. I'm rattling with excitement. I've found my kind, I've found my tribe. 
 
 You can feel it in your bones when you find home and San Francisco is home. We ca n't pick the places we are from, but we can try to forget. Arizona never felt like home, no matter what clothes I was wearing. 
 
 Even though I've only been here a few months, I walk along Market Street and it's natural, I have lived here forever. The people I've met, the new friends I've made, in my brief time here, I've known them forever. 
 
 Screeching tires jolt me out of my day dream. The black van's door rips open and I'm frozen. These guys look like they just robbed a bank. Black ski masks, black jump suits, and quickly is is crystal clear what they are interested in. Me. My heart skips a beat, and another, and another. Now it's racing. What the fuck why ca n't I run? I've run in high heels before. 
 
 `` Do n't you dare fucking touch me!'' 
 
 `` We're here to Help you.'' twisting my arm behind my back `` Just calm down, this nightmare will be over soon'' 
 
 My visions dark dark. The burlap bag over my head is pulling my hair. It hurts so much he's breaking my arm. My chest is being crushed against the floor of the Ford econoline. I ca n't breath, I ca n't expand my lungs. Someone is sitting on me, and someone else is using plastic zip tie to lock my hands behind my back. 
 
 The futility of escape washes over me, and with it memories of a young being pinned down by my mother. She was too strong, I could n't wiggle free. I was nine, or ten. She found me playing dress up with her clothes once again. I felt exquisite in her heels. The wire hanger broke the skin. The cigarette sized burn scars on my arms are from when i was twelve and she noticed some of her makeup was missing. 
 
 _ 
 
 
 `` It's some kind of a... a homosexual, sex cult. They got'im completely brainwashed.'' she continued. 
 
 `` Do n't panic ma'am, I've deprogrammed plenty of this typ'a thing. I'll get your son back''
