Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I think I underestimated Kim's words about how bad serving old men drinks can be.
Getting random ass slaps, drunk men grabbing my boob, crusty men getting their hands up dress and managing to touch me down there. I've had a man pull out my whole boob in front of everyone because he just felt like it.
There were more than twenty people that watched me get violated. Well, I smashed the glass of champagne on his head and stepped in his foot with my heels but I still felt exposed and violently assaulted. I've always had a problem with people touching me, even a hug from someone I love made me uncomfortable.
Imagine what an assault from a ugly, fat, greasy, old man does to me.
The bartender did not forget to tell me about how he already informed Mr. Volkov about my rebelliousness and how I'll be dealt with later tonight. And honestly I want to thank him with all my heart for so much generosity.
He is the sweetest. Not like he didn't ask me to blow him after his shift so he doesn't tell Diego too. I told him to fuck off instead. I can deal with Volkov, he doesn't threaten me, we can fight one on one. The night is coming to an end but I need to get my act into motion.
"Sam," I say to the bartender. "I'm going to the bathroom, I need to pee really bad." The security here is tight, so he didn't think twice before telling me to go away. I leave the tray on the table and walk towards the toilets sign. I know for a fact I'll find someone with a phone in here.
There's no way we're all captives, some girls are partying and having the time of their lives, so I assume they carry phones.
I can call Zade from there and he can trace the phone number or whatever it is that he will do. I just want to get out of here as soon as possible. "Hey pretty girls," I give a weak smile and a drink expression. "Heyy." They smile back, also seeming drunk. They were reapplying makeup and touches.
"My phone's dead, and I need to phone my boyfriend so can I plea—"
My boyfriend? What am I saying?
"No worries, gorgeous, here." The curly headed girl passes me her phone with hello kitty, glittery casing.
I breathe out in relief and walk into one of the stalls. My heart thuds in my rib cage when I dial his numbers. I press the green call bottom at the bottom of my screen and my eyes immediately fill up with tears.
It rings three times and then I hear the sound of his voice.
"Who's this?" He asks, somehow sounding tired and worn out. I try to talk but I'm crying too much.
"Hello? Who's there?" He asks again. I take in a deep breathe and part my lips to speak. "Za—"
"Zade, who's that?"
Have you ever felt your heart break? The pitch of your breath or the immediate sting in your eyes? That's how I felt. Like nothing mattered anymore, all I could feel was a sore chest and a burning sensation in my throat.
