~Chapter 52~
Sitting quietly on the floor, my eyes fixed on the piece of paper in my hand, the words "You can run but you can’t hide, kitten" rang into my brain.
Ti seed to warp and distort, losing all aning as I stared blankly at the note.
When I finally tore my gaze away from the note, I was shocked to see that thirty minutes had slipped by, the wall clock ticking away.
Panicked, I scrambled to my feet, my mind going over to all the things I needed to do. The food I’d planned to make for Aria and Frank still hadn’t been started, and I was running perilously close to being late for my night job.
A dull headache throbbed in my temples as the aftermath of my over thinking from the note.
The fear and anxiety that had been simring just below the surface for so long were now boiling over, threatening to overwhelm again.
Should I tell Aria and Frank about this? But how could I? How could I tell them that the people I’d escaped from had found ? That I was in danger all over again?
I felt like I’d been punched in the gut, all the air knocked out of as I realized I had nowhere to go, no safe haven to run to. I was still trapped in this cycle of debt, with no way to escape.
And the thought of running and hiding all over again was exhausting.
Slowly I picked myself up from the floor, struggling to shake off the lingering fear. I dusted off my trousers, before carefully pocketing the crumpled note.
I trudged into the kitchen, my eyes taking in the view of the nearly bare shelves.
We were struggling to make ends et, and it showed in the limited food we had. I opened the refrigerator and peered inside.
The shelves were almost empty, with only a few scattered items remaining.
Spotting a small bag of pasta, a few wilted vegetables, and a can of diced tomatoes. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.
I settled on making a simple pasta dish, more like I settled for it because it was the only food i can make with this small amount of ingredients.
Before long, the al was finally ready, the aroma of cooked pasta and tomatoes filling the small kitchen. I scooped out a portion for myself and left the rest of the al on the stove, covering it with a lid to keep it warm for Aria and Frank when they returned ho.
Walking over to the couch, I dropped down onto the worn cushions with my al clutched in my hand.
Hastily eating like a mad man, the pasta and tomatoes tasteless as I shoveled them into my mouth. My mind was filled with the thoughts ahead, focused on the impending shift at the bar.
Ti was ticking away, and I still had a thirty-minute walk ahead of . I couldn’t afford to be late, not tonight.
The club’s manager, Marcus, was notorious for being unforgiving when it ca to punctuality.
One tardy arrival, and he’d be breathing down my neck for the rest of the nigh and I couldn’t afford that.
I finished my al in record ti, the plate empty in less than five minutes, pushing it aside on the coffee table as I leapt to my feet and sprinted into Aria’s room.
I literally tore off the white shirt I’d worn to the cafe, the fabric discarded on the floor as I reached for the loose-fitting workout shirt hanging in the closet, pulling it over my head.
Since the bar provided uniforms for its staff, I didn’t need to worry about what to wear. I’d change into the required attire once I arrived at the club.
With a final glance around the room, I turned and headed out the door, closing it firmly behind .
The stairs creaked beneath my feet as I descended into the bustling streets. The sounds of the busy city enveloped – car horns, chatter, and the wail of sirens in the distance.
I blended into the crowd, just another face among the throngs of people rushing to their destinations.
The walk there was faster as I practically ran to reach on ti before I get fired. I reached the back door as it has been instructed to staff that that was the door we should be following.
My feet pounded the pavent in haste as I practically ran, my breath coming in short gasps, struggling to reach the club on ti.
The fear of being late, of facing Marcus’s wrath, drove forward. I couldn’t afford to lose this job, not now. The debt collectors were circling, their patience wearing thin and so was the ti they gave us.
Finally, I arrived at the club, my eyes roaming over the nondescript building for the designated entrance.
I spotted the back door, the one marked "Staff Only," and made a beeline for it, pushing open the door.
As I stepped inside, I found myself in a narrow corridor lined with rows of uniforms, neatly arranged on hooks and shelves.
The club’s logo, a stylized letter "E," emblazoned the tops and shorts. I reluctantly made my way to the uniform section, heart sinking as I gazed at the outfit I was required to wear.
The trousers were short, ridiculously so, and clung to my legs like a second skin. The black denim was stretchy, but it offered little modesty.
I rember when Adelasia forced that short gown on and I felt exposed, vulnerable well this ti this clothes made completely naked.
And as I slid into the tight-fitting garnt, the top was equally revealing, a sleeveless black crop top that barely covered my bra.It was more like a swimsuit top than a shirt, and I felt embarrassed, tying the strings behind my neck.
"Who made this kind of clothes." I muttered to myself looking over to the small mirror, stupid face.
User Comments
0 comments from readers