And she was exasperated—with him and herself and their twisted relationship.
But he'd never given her a note before. What was he up to?
Getting up, she went to her locker and took out the box from the back. Opening it to all the black eternal roses she'd saved over the years, some dried and wilted, some comparatively fresher, she placed the note inside with them, hating herself slightly more for keeping them all. Tucking the box at the back again, she locked up and went to freshen up, knowing she had a few hours before starting her shift.
After using the communal showers, she dressed in shorts and a tank top, tied her hair up in a bun, and went down to the kitchen to eat something. There weren’t many options to choose from, but they did feed everyone, and frankly, that was more than enough on most days. The kitchen was busy with girls taking their meals, some of them talking to each other, most of them keeping to themselves like she did. It was common. Something was broken within every single one of them, and while that was a point of commonality, it wasn’t a point of companionship.
Keeping her head down, she got some milk and cereal in a cheap plastic bowl, and went back upstairs to the solace of her room before she had to start work in a few hours. When she wasn’t being auctioned for short- or long-term contracts, she worked as a server in the Club District, rotating in The Syndicate nightclubs, strip clubs, and sex clubs, sometimes even as a dancer if they needed more girls on stage. She got groped and whistled at and couldn't keep any of the tips she made, but it was still better than a lot of the other girls had it. There were girls who got drugged and got fucked on a daily basis for videos sold on the dark web; sex slaves who lived with masters so cruel their lives were horror stories, children who were made to do things no child ever should. And it wasn’t just girls. She knew there was a whole operation like this one for young boys too. If there was a buyer in the market, they were catered to with whatever they needed. So, she truly felt lucky that her daily job was only limited to unwanted attention and groping.
And yet, despite telling herself that she was luckier, she felt cursed.
Her eyes went to the knife and an apple on Reina’s small desk, her mind swaying again. That was the thing she couldn’t explain within herself. Sometimes, she caught sight of random, potentially lethal objects and immediately, her brain conjured up the image of what it would be like to use it on herself. That knife, for example, would be so easy, the sharp side of the blade going over the veins just once, so simple to put a full stop to it all. They would find her in the room, her white expensive shirt soaked in blood that matched her hair, a smile on her face for the first time as she said goodbye.
Closing her eyes, she put a stop to the fantasy, a slight tremor in her hand as she gripped her bowl.
Eat. Sleep. That’s all.
That’s all she needed to do. Sleep. Wake up. Repeat.
Just one more day.
Quickly finishing the last of her cereal, she climbed back into bed and slept again, quieting the demons in her head, at least for a bit, praying for a dream that would bring her some solace. And just her luck, she dreamed of him.
Chapter fiveLyla, 1 year ago
He was there in one of the lounge areas, watching her with those devilish mismatched eyes of his as she danced on the stage at Sanctum, one of the more posh sex clubs in the Club District, catering to sex and socialization for the affluent under one roof. Aside from the back rooms, there were also rooms available for the night above the club at request.
It was one of the private parties for one of the higher ups, a private party of over a hundred men and women who came from powerful places—lawyers, judges, politicians, industrialists, mobsters, all of them mingling in a night of lustful celebrations.
People in various stages of undress were already scattered around the room, some fondling, some fucking. The more private ones took their chosen companion or companions for the night to the rooms in the back, ones that catered to all kinds of fetishes they could want to explore.
It had been a while since she’d seen him, physically seen him. She had felt him many times, known he’d been keeping an eye on her even more so, but actually seeing him wasn’t usual. Her heart thud with each beat of the music as he watched her, and she focused on him, danced for him, just for him. Theirs was an odd relationship, if it could even be called that.
She had found him accidentally on a fateful night, and he had helped her out. She had never believed that she would see him again afterward, not until he showed up at one of the clubs where she’d been serving drinks one night. She had pretended not to know him, and he had pretended not to look at her. They’d both been lying. Since then, for years, he had become a constant presence in her life, an anchor she had become emotionally dependent on even though she knew she shouldn’t be. He was dangerous, he was manipulative, and he enjoyed playing with her emotions a little too much. And yet, when he came seeking her, she was found.