THALIA
When a woman dressed in a black suit approached me on a train track, whilst I was holding a bottle of blue spray paint in my left hand and a face covered with paint, I didn't hesitate to say no to her proposition:
BE HER BRIDESMAID AT HER WE...
Remember: this is 6 months later than the last Thalia POV
• THALIA •
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My eyes are barely open and my body is barely functioning. My skin looks perfect but that's just the litres of concealer spread across my body. My tight dress has ridden up my thighs and my tits are about to pop out and be displayed in front of a bunch of middle aged men.
It's funny how much your life can change in as little as 6 months. But it feels like a long long long time. Times gone slow and yesterday felt like one whole year ago.
One night I was having dinner with the people who felt like family. The next I was back at the care home. And then the day after I woke up in the back of a truck. And fast forward to now. I'm a sex worker.
By choice? Hell no.
They'd kill me if I said no. I did try but a blade to the throat was enough to sway my decision.
I don't know who the people are running this business. Taking girls and making them waitress and strip and hook for guys. Rich guys.
I feel like I've lost my final, final little ounce of childhood.
It's my birthday tomorrow. Seventeen. Crazy.
I'm going to be spending it in my dream place... not.
"Girl, the guy over there is giving fat tips. Get your ass over there." One of the girls, Sam, tells me pointing to a middle aged guy with silver streaks in both his black hair and beard.
"I'd rather stay behind the bar, it's safer." I tell Sam.
Sam's a pretty girl. She's 19 and I'm pretty sure she actually chose to work her. I don't blame her, the money is greaaaaat and as long as it's not against your will, I don't see why female sex workers get judged so much.
However, it's simply not for me.
"You don't make cash by being safe." Sam states and she is 100% right but still there's no way. I despise working anywhere but behind the bar. There's creepy man stealing glances up my skirt and other women criticising me all the time for being too this or too that. When will I win?
"True, but I'll pass, Sam."
"Hmm, no you won't. Get your ass over there, I'll take over here. You should be grateful I'm leaving the rest of his money for you, babe." She jokes but I can tell there's a hint of seriousness in what she says.
"No, Sam."
"Do it. Go on gal." She lightly pushes me in the direction of the old man's table.
"Stoppp," I whine, desperately trying to get out of this.
"Nu-uh." Sam gives me one final shove and now I'm no longer behind the bar, I'm in front of it. Same gives me a little, discreet wave and moths toodles.
I roll my eyes and flip her off before stalking my way over to the intimidating table.
I can feel the sweat forming on my back and underneath my armpits. I'll be drowning in it by the end of the night.
I try walk past the table to go hide out in the bathroom but I immediately get stopped in my trek.
"You. Refill." An old, old man says leaning over his chair. He motions me over to the table and I literally can not say no. No joke, otherwise I might actually be murdered.
I hesitantly walk towards the table and take deep breaths.
I pick up his glass and swivel around to go back to the bar but an ass slap halts me in my steps.
I freeze.
And then next thing I known, my hips are being grabbed and I'm being shoved into this strangers chest.
His hot breath is right in my face and his prickly beard is skimming across my face. "You want a too tonight, honey?"
I want to punch him. I want to lick him right where it hurts. I want to scream. I want to tell everyone here to go fuck themselves. I want to go home.
But I can't.
So I stay stood in this strangers grasp.
I try cool myself down but when I feel something hard pressing against my arse, I know that's I can't take it anymore.
I lunge out of the man's hold and he wasn't expecting it in the slightest so I managed to break free quite easily.
"You're sick."
He laughs emotionlessly and I get chills.
There are some sick fucks in this world.
"Come back, babe." He coos me back little a little kid.
But oh wait, I am a kid. I'm seventeen. So I tell him, hoping he'll have the tiniest bit of decency.
"I'm seventeen!" I stress to him.
He perks up. He perks up.
What is the point anymore of trying to change people like him?
"Even better, darling. C'mon." He tried to usher me back into his hold and I retaliate. He rolls his eyes, "stop being a bitch." He whispers in my ears causing goosebumps to overtake my skin.
"You are sick."
He laughs menacingly. He grabs onto my hand and shoves it down his trousers. "Hold."
I try to rip my hand away from his but there's no hope. Despite him being old he's still built like a tree trunk.
"Let me go." I whisper with tears streaming down my face. I can tell the mascara they shoved on my, already long, eyelashes has probably smudged.
A deep, cruel laugh fills my ears and then I think I collapse. It's too much to remember. Too. Bloody. Exhausting.
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A/n
4 updates in one night? Crazy.
I was not expecting the story to go down this route... but I've been writing every chapter with no plan. I sorta just write.
Sorry if u don't like it?
But I thought it was getting pretty boring on the yacht.
