Chapter 2 They found me.
CHAPTER TWO
SCARLETT – POINT OF VIEW
“Pizza’s here!” Eve calls from the living room, her voice slicing through the quiet apartment. The whole day sits heavily on my chest, like wet sand.
I drop my phone on the sink and quickly splash water on my face. The tap groans in protest as the water pressure reduces until it stops. The small bathroom smells like rusted iron, and the stale humidity clings to my skin.
My phone vibrates against the metal sink. A small, sharp sound in the claustrophobic bathroom. I reach for it and swipe it open. It is an Ad for an Escort Agency. The bold letters glow. My heart pounds as I skim the benefits, high pay, protection, flexible hours, etc. My thoughts swirl like smoke.
I walk to the living room, grab the warm, greasy Pizza from Eve and drop my phone onto her lap.
She glances down, then frowns. “An Escort Agency. Is that not prostitution?” She flicks a loose curl away.
“Technically, it is not prostitution.” I take a slice, and the cheese stretches like glue.
“Technically?” She frowns. “Does it not look shady to you? Advertising prostitution online for all to see. It can be a trap, something like a sex trafficking ring.”
I stay silent. My mind is spinning.
“Don’t tell me you’re thinking about it, Scar!” She gasps, eyes wide.
“I don’t know, maybe I am.” My voice cracks. Nausea rolls through me.
“I hate my job, Eve. I hate being a waitress. I hate being felt up by drunk strangers. I work very hard, and at the end of the day, make very little money. It is exhausting. Our boss is creepy, the customers are handsy. I still feel that fucker’s hand on my body, and he is not the first. There is a never-ending flow of creepy men who think my body is for sale. I just want a good job.” I express, my heart heavy with exhaustion.
“So, you want to actually sell your body, then?” She smiles at me softly, and I roll my eyes.
“I know it is hard, Scar, but it will get better soon, I promise you.” She adds, and I want to believe her, but I just don’t.
“Just think about it. I’m not asking you to do it. I will. As an Escort, I will be paid good money, I will be protected from creeps, and I will have autonomy. I get to do whatever I want with my body.” I explain passionately.
“Do not give up just yet.” She nudges me gently with her knee. “We’ve had a long day, so why don’t we enjoy dinner and go to bed?” She argues, and I sigh, but nod even though every part of me is screaming.
After dinner, I go to my apartment. The sheets smell faintly of detergent and exhaustion.
I try to fall asleep, but it is hard, just like every other night. I eventually fall asleep, but I am woken up by nightmares. This circle goes on until morning.
I give up on sleeping and instead grab our dirty clothes and drag them downstairs to the Complex washroom. The scent of detergent and rusted machines fills the air. As they churn, my mind churns too.
Eve whips up a quick breakfast, and we leave for work with the smell of butter clinging to our clothes. I hope today won’t crush me like yesterday did.
At the bar, Eve is pulled to the kitchen, and I get the floor.
Before I can finish tying the apron around my waist, my boss walks into the changing room, a familiar snarl on his face.
Something in me jumps, but I take deep breaths. He’s never gone past giving me odd looks after all.
Before I can wonder what he is doing here, he gets up in my face and grips my jaw tightly.
“I have been noticing your attitude,” he snarls.
“But, sir ….”
“I don’t want to hear you whine, complain or give my customers attitude. You hear me?”
I clench my jaw hard and nod at him.
I walk out and get to work.
I force a smile on my face and clear the tables, then do it all over again. This is not the life I am meant to live. I am destined for great things. My father was a Cartel Capo, but he is dead now, and I am here, waiting tables and selling my soul for coins.
“This is not what I ordered!” A woman yells at me, and I rush to her, my heart racing.
“I’m sorry, ma, I can get it fixed for you immediately.” I fall over my words like a child. My heart pounds like a talking drum, and my hands tremble as I reach for her plate.
“Are you slow? I ordered cheeseburgers, not hamburgers. Chees, not ham!” She sneers at me, and I nod vigorously, “I am very sorry about that, ma. I will get it fixed immediately.”
I reach for her plate. She grabs my wrist and jerks me backwards suddenly, spilling her partner’s soup and water all over my uniform. I wince as it burns, and catch myself before I fall.
“Look at the mess you have made, you brainless whore!” She spits at me.
There is a knot in my throat as I try not to cry. Something in me breaks. I can’t do this anymore. This is not a life. I can’t live like this.
I clear their table and take it to the kitchen. My clothes cling to my body, burning hot and freezing cold at the same time.
My boss catches up to me and yells, “Those are top customers. You have to fix your fucking attitude.”
“She poured … poured hot soup all over my body, and that was what she ordered!” I whimper, my lower lip trembling, my eyes stinging.
“I have no time for your whining, so get yourself cleaned up and get back to work, now!” He barks and walks away.
I bite my lower lip to hold back my tears and rush to the bathroom. I lean against the door and break down in tears, my shoulders shaking as I cry. I place my palm over my mouth to muffle my sounds. My chest caves in as waves of agony wash over me like a tide. My tears taste salty. I can’t live like this.
I walk to the sink and wash my face. I linger in the bathroom till my face looks less swollen, then I walk out, thinking about the Escort Ad.
I walk past my boss’s office, my shirt still sticking to my body. His door is cracked open. Low voices rumble from within.
I almost walk away, until I see it.
A tattoo on the nearest man’s neck. Black ink and sharp edges. A snake eating its own tail.
My blood turns to ice. I have seen that tattoo before.
I realise with a chilling trepidation that it's the same one I saw on the men who killed my father.