"It's cold tonight, don't you got a jacket?" Lily frowned at me, leaning against a lamp-post and lighting her joint—only she'd be stupid and reckless enough to smoke pot on the sidewalk of one of the busiest streets in town.

"No, the pervert from last week stole it, said he wanted it for a souvenir or something, I don't know, I just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible," I laughed, recalling the weird encounter with the short guy who probably had no friends, no family and definitely no wife—the only person he'd probably had sex with in the past ten years, was himself.

"You always get the weirdos," she stated with a smirk, closing her eyes and enjoying the level of peace that comes with smoking weed.

"I know, and you always get the rich civilized gentlemen who take you to a hotel and let you drink champagne before giving you more money than what you actually charge. Tell me, what's your secret?" I pulled my invisible specs down and wiggled my eyebrows at her. She burst into laughter and hit me in the arm.

"Screw you, jealous bitch" she pointed her joint at me as if to offer me some and I shook my head. "It'll make you relax, you're so uptight, you wouldn't think you'd been doing this a year and a half now" she threw it to the ground and pulled her jacket tighter around her.

"It's not something you can just jump right into and get used to straight away" I mumbled, wrapping my arms around myself in a ridiculous attempt to keep warm. It was the dark of the night and many liquor stores and bars were open—it was a Friday, that's when the best of the money came in— music could be heard from a club down the road that had only just opened it's doors to the drunken, slimy people scouring the town, I rolled my eyes.

I was so fed up of this place, fed up of what it represented, what it allowed to go on right under it's ignorant nose. Fed up of myself and everything I'd thrown away to come here and be who I am.

"You're overthinking again, what do I tell you? Hey, what do I tell you?" Lily snapped me out of my depressing reverie and I shrugged

"Don't think, just do." I replied monotonously, repeating the words she'd said to me on more than one occasion—almost every damn day.

"Right, don't think, just do" she repeated with a smile, like her advice was mind-blowing, I smiled back weakly but in all honesty I didn't feel like smiling or talking, my previous good mood vanished quicker than it had come on.

"Costumer, nine o'clock" Lily nudged me, I looked to my left and saw a car slowing down as it got closer to us, my stomach twisted, I was not in the mood.

"Can't you take this one? I don't feel all that up to it" I muttered, hoping she wasn't going to give me a lecture

"Hell no, you need the money more than me, you're living in the shitter girl, you take him" she pushed me forward slightly and I took a deep breath, 1) to control my anger and 2) to prepare myself.

"Hey, how much?" The guy inside the car asked, leaning over to talk to us through the passengers window—it always caught me off guard when they asked, as if it is that obvious that I'm a prostitute as if I have some form of look that just screams whore. He looked at me blankly when I didn't answer, he had a receding hairline and yellow teeth, I did my best not to gag at the sight of them, but his blue eyes were pretty. Maybe that was the wrong word, but something about them told me he wasn't dangerous.

Boy, was I wrong.

"Er, twenty five" I finally managed and he whistled through his teeth.

"Bucks? Come on, don't bullshit me, you're not worth that much" he smirked, it always hit me hard when guys made comments like that, it's not like I wasn't used to it but damn, it still hit a nerve.

"Twenty" I reasoned and he looked like he was mulling it over in his head. Finally he nodded and opened the door from the inside for me. I glanced at Lily once more and she raised her eyebrows, a big smile on her face and I wondered when I'd get to her state of delusional, where this whole ordeal didn't make me want to jump off a bridge. I climbed in the car and accidentally slammed the door as I shut it. "S-sorry" I apologized nervously—boys and their toys huh?

"So where are we doing this?" he asked and maybe I was mistaken but he seemed rather nervous himself and not his arrogant self that he was a few moments ago. "I don't know how this works, I've never done this whole thing before" and I wondered if he meant he was a virgin or he'd never picked up a prostitute before. His lower class clothing and stubble decorating his chin pointed towards the former but I had a gut feeling it was the latter.

"Er, the car, that's usually how it happens" I shrugged, hoping he'd say oh no, I'll take you to a hotel, don't worry. Of course I'm an absolute idiot for hoping because he didn't say that at all.

There was a massive smashing sound from the kitchen and someone groaned in pain. Mike jumped up immediately, probably concerned of Vic's well being.

"Shit, I'll be right back, sorry" he apologized quickly and before I could tell him it was okay he was out of the room. I contemplated walking to the door—which Mike had closed on his way out, dammit—and opening it just an inch or two to see if I could see what was going on, but something inside me told me I'd regret it.

Forget regret — I thought boldly and got up anyway.

I opened the door slightly and of course it creaked, my heart stopped. No sounds of anyone approaching though, so I opened it a little further and stuck my head ever so slightly out of the gap. Vic was laid in the doorway of the kitchen, blood ran from his head down the—I'd like to say nicely painted white door frame but I'd be lying, it's not nicely painted, or white. It's an off color, one that doesn't even have a name. I didn't know if he was passed out or not but glass surrounded him. The corridor from the room I was in and the kitchen is rather long and Mike was still making his way down it, all of a sudden—probably realizing Vic was on the floor, bloody and possibly unconscious—he broke into a sprint, running the rest of the way.

"What the fuck have you done?" Mike screamed at the ogre. I couldn't see the ogre though, I didn't know where he was—the thought scared me shitless. "Vic! Vic! Fucking open your eyes" he shook Vic, but Vic didn't move and he was too far away for me to see whether his opened or not. Mike's next comment confirmed that they didn't though.

"I swear if he's dead, I will fuck you up!" Mike yelled his voice strong, the ogre came into view, pulling back a chair from the table and putting it just next to Vic's possibly unconscious, possibly dead body. He sat down and leaned forward.

"He's fine" he said lowly and Mike stood up from his crouching position in front of Vic and kicked his dad square in the face, my jaw dropped—to the pits of fucking hell. His body flew backwards, sending the chair toppling over with his great weight.

He looked in my direction and our eyes met, the desperation in his eyes more bold than anything I've ever seen before. "Get here, please, take Vic to the front door and wait there" he spoke rapidly and I had to repeat what he said in my head for me to actually understand it. I hesitated for a few seconds. I hated blood, I hated conflict, I hated the whole situation. "Now!" Mike screamed and I jumped out of my skin, quickly throwing the door open and running bare footed down the hall to where they all were.

The ogre groaned and began to sit up, rubbing his head where he must of hit it on his adventure to the lovely world of tiled flooring. I imagined if this was a cartoon show, he'd be seeing stars—focus, for fuck sake! I scolded myself for always digressing in important situations. Mike grabbed his father and threw him across the room, my stomach dropped, I hate violence, I hate it. I knelt down next to Vic's left side (the way he did with me in the bathroom that isn't much of a bathroom) and put my index and middle finger on his neck, checking for a pulse—my heartbeat was racing and adrenaline pounded in every part of my body, even in my fingertips, so I was unsure of whether I could feel a pulse or not. I took my fingers away and took a few shaky breaths.

It's okay, it's okay, breathe, it's fine, it's just a bit of blood, no one is hurting each other, check for a pulse, it's okay, it's okay — I told myself naively and returned my fingers to their former position. I felt it, throbbing steadily underneath my fingertips, a pulse!

"Mike, he's not dead, he er, he has a pulse!" I smiled triumphantly—I did it! A crashing sound pierced my triumph, Mike threw his dad over the table, the table collapsing to the ground as he desperately tried to grab onto it. I decided to try to see if Vic was conscious, that way it'd be a lot easier to get him to the front door (you know, if he could walk or crawl or something and I didn't have to drag him), I shook his shoulder gently

"Vic..." I said softly "If you can hear me, open your eyes, I'm going to get you to safety, but I need a little help from you because I don't know if I'm strong enough to carry you to the door" okay, I was babbling but I had an excuse to, I was panicked. There was no response, fuck.

"Here goes nothing" I mumbled, and pulled his legs so he was laying on the floor flat, I then moved around him and grabbed under his arms, walking slowly backwards dragging him along with me. I began to sweat and get out of breath and I made a mental note that if I ever got out of here alive I need to buy a running machine and get fit. We were three quarters of the way down the corridor and the ogre screamed no and there was another crashing sound. I snapped my head up and saw Mike skid across the floor, smashing his head off of it not once, not twice, but three damn times. The shock of it all made me let go of Vic's underarms and gasp, his head hit hard against my feet and I wanted to punch myself in the face for being such an idiot.

Desperation swelled within me, I knew I had to get myself and Vic out of here—but what about Mike? He'd been nice to me so far and he'd said he didn't like what his father was doing. I had to save him too. I grabbed Vic again quickly and dragged him at the fastest pace I could manage. Which wasn't really that fast. Without Mike to distract (or severely beat) the ogre I knew he'd recover in a few minutes and be onto me. Tears began to well in my eyes, I was so desperate to do this one thing right, I've never done anything it my whole life right.

And I so desperately just wanted to get this done, get it right.

I was inches away from the front door and I felt a little bit of hope, it carried me the extra way, even with my achy arms and my sweaty forehead. Then realization struck me...Mike was passed out and injured on the floor and had been for a few minutes now and the ogre hadn't come after me, in fact the only sound I'd heard since I saw Mike repeatedly smash his head off the floor and pass out was my own ragged breathing and the pounding of my own heart.

Which could only mean two things...

Either he's unconscious.

Or better yet, dead.

A smile broke out on my face and I reached the front door. I let go of Vic's underarms—gently this time—and wiped the sweat from my forehead. This is it! I thought, eagerly and slid the bolt across the door, I took a deep breath and opened it, ready to drag Vic out, get him safe and then come back for Mike.

I opened the door slowly, relieved that this torture was finally over.

"Going somewhere?" Blood dripped from his nose and a slash on his forehead, his shirt was torn and he had no shoes on, but the thing that scared me most was the smirk on his face, the cold, dead smirk on his dirty face, his blue eyes were ice, boring into me, making me literally shudder and all I could think was.

Oh shit. This is it.

Notes

Drama, drama, drama.

I wanted to quickly post this before I went to band practice.

oOoOoOoOo, what is going to happen?

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Also, go check out I Guess I Never Should Have Loved You by Clairephernelia - she is a genius and it's really a brilliant story!

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