I sat on the edge of the sink and stared at myself until my vision blurred. It had to of been for hours. I hated going to the strip club, but I had no choice.

I pushed myself away from the mirror and slowly walked to my bedroom, head low. My alarm clock read 4:38 p.m. - the club wouldn’t get busy until the evening, but I would stay all day and night if that were what it took.

I threw every garment I owned out of my creaky, old dresser and onto the wooden floor around me. To fix this disaster, I needed the sexiest outfit I owned. As dirty as it sounded, the men always scoped the strippers out when arriving to see how they looked before the show. It seemed the less you wore, the more they paid. It disgusted me, but I was desperate.

After changing into a slinky red dress complete with golden heels and heavy makeup, I called for a taxi and waited patiently outside my apartment, arms crossed.

The same taxi driver as before showed up. He wore a huge grin on his face and his eyes danced with recognition.

I glanced at him and smiled before jumping into the backseat and digging through my purse for cash. To my embarrassment, all I could find was a creased $5 bill. I suddenly remembered that I had left all of my money in Caleb’s car so that he could get me a money order for rent, to try to catch up a bit.

I looked up from my purse to see the old man looking at me through his mirror, eyes suspicious.

"Is there a problem, ma’am?" he questioned. His voice was a bit nervous as he kept looking between the road and me.

I hastily closed my purse and slammed my hand against my forehead. "I only have a five dollar bill," I murmured, knowing that I was screwed.

The taxi driver pressed on the brakes and placed his arm behind him on the black leather seat. "You're going to have to get out then, ma’am," he mumbled. "I'm sorry, but no money, no ride." His eyes were full of regret as he stared back at me, and I knew that he was only doing his job.

"Okay." I closed my eyes and exhaled before tossing him the $5 bill and jumping out of the taxi. If I walked fast enough then I would make it to work in thirty minutes.

The streets were abandoned in the area of town that I was in, and the lack of streetlights made my heartbeat race. It’s not that far. It will be fine. I reminded myself.

I willed my feet to move as quickly as possible until the back parking lot of the club came into sight, neon lights bathing the collection of cars in a gaudy light.

I slowed down to catch my breath when all of a sudden I heard footsteps behind me. Is someone following me? I ran – heels crunching on the ground – as the footsteps sped up behind me. I attempted to turn around to get a glimpse at my pursuer when suddenly my right heel bent to the left and I came crashing down to the ground, knees scraping gravel. I moaned in pain as I looked above me to see an older man – mid-forties - standing above me, piggy eyes boring into mine. It was the same man that grabbed my arm the night before.

He ran his tongue over his cracked bottom lip and smirked as he stumbled to the left. "You're that hot little stripper from last night," he slurred. "Oh yeah. I remember you." He paused to pull his long beard out of his mouth. It was caked with drool as he spit.

I cowered away from him and attempted to crawl backwards on the ground, red dress riding up my legs. "Get away from me," I screamed furiously. "They're expecting me any minute!" I knew that it wouldn't scare him off, but I hoped that it would at least slow him down and make him think.

"Fuck them," he replied, spitting on himself. "I like pretty little girls like you. Let me take you home and you can give me a private show." He reached down, gripping my fragile arm in his strong hands. "I can pay you more than those jerks inside." My body pressed against his as he yanked me to my feet, grabbing a handful of my hair and yanking my head back so that he could force his mouth to my neck.

My body instantly started quaking as the tears escaped from my eyes and ran down my face. I pulled away from him with as much force as I could muster and swung out, fists connecting with the side of his big head. "I don't do private shows. Get your filthy hands off me!" I screamed, my long hair flying, as I struggled to get away. "Let go!" I narrowed my eyes and elbowed him in the stomach, but it had no effect on his sturdy build.

He gripped me tighter and grabbed my face in his big hands. I cried out in pain before he clamped his cruddy hands over my mouth to silence me. I shook uncontrollably.

He put his hairy face inches away from mine and flicked my forehead with his finger. The contact stung, causing me to yelp. "Listen here, you nasty little whore," he screamed, spitting in my face. "If you can get on stage and get naked for a bunch of no good losers then you can come to my home and put on a good show for a single man with a shit load of money." He paused to laugh. "Oh I get it. You like it. You like being a whore and having all of those eyes on you. Don't you?" He pushed his crotch against me and gripped my face tighter in his hands before crushing his oily, chapped lips to mine.

I gasped as he slipped his tongue into my mouth - roaming and rubbing. The familiar taste of alcohol and cigarettes were so strong that it made me gag. I could taste the salty tears as they ran down my face and dripped onto my mouth as he continued to kiss me.

Suddenly, I saw a figure yank the man away from my helpless body and push him down to the ground. My eyes blurred as the creep attempted to stand back up, but the figure pressed his foot onto his chest once more, forcing him back to the ground. The old man cried out, before crawling away on his hands and knees.

I frantically wiped the tears out of my eyes to see if I could catch a look at my rescuer, but it was no good, the tears wouldn't let up.

The tears continued to run down my flushed cheeks. I exhaled in relief – I was safe, finally. I fell back down to my knees and placed my hands over my face. It didn't even matter who I was now left alone with. As long as that creep was long gone, I had a feeling that I would be okay.

I felt a hand rest on my shoulder, fingertips smooth on my exposed flesh. My first instinct was to shake the hand off, but when I heard a familiar voice, I realized it was Jace. Somehow, I could breathe again.

"Let me help you," he whispered. "I won't hurt you." He kneeled down in front of me and gently grabbed my face in his soft, cool hands. I looked up slowly to find myself staring into the same emerald eyes that I had first seen at The Indy Go. The softness in them made me weak.