Episode8
1448 Words
“Rue…”
I looked up at the sound of Zia’s voice.
I tried to smile.
I really did.
But whatever expression I managed didn’t make it anywhere close to my eyes.
My sleeves were pulled down, covering most of the damage, but Zia had always been too observant. The moment I moved my hands, her eyes caught the faint bruising around my wrists.
Her entire expression changed.
“Your arms…” she whispered.
I immediately pulled my hands behind my back.
“It’s fine.”
The words came out automatically.
A habit.
A lie I had told so many times that sometimes I almost believed it.
“It looks worse than it is.”
Zia stared at me for a few seconds.
Then she crossed the room quickly.
“It doesn’t look fine, Rue.”
Her voice was sharp at first, but the anger disappeared almost instantly, replaced by pain.
She reached for my arms carefully, like she was afraid even touching me would hurt.
“Rue,” she said softly. “You should have called me.”
I looked away.
“I didn’t want you to panic.”
That was the truth.
But it wasn’t the whole truth.
I didn’t want to see the look in her eyes. The same look people had when they looked at me after prison. The mixture of sadness, guilt, and helplessness.
I hated feeling like someone’s burden.
“Rue…” Her voice cracked.
I looked back at her.
“What do you want me to do?”
I didn’t answer.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I mean it. What do you want me to do? Tell me. I can do anything. I’ll do anything.”
The words broke apart as she spoke.
“I can help you. I can call someone. I can—”
Her voice failed.
And then she started crying.
Not quietly.
Not the kind of tears someone wipes away and pretends never happened.
She cried like she had been holding it in since the day I came home.
Like every year she missed with me had suddenly caught up.
I stood there, unsure what to do.
I had fought people. I had survived things I never thought I would.
But Zia crying because of me was something I didn’t know how to handle.
After a while, when her breathing finally calmed, she wiped her face.
“Rue,” she said quietly. “I want to see.”
I knew what she meant.
My stomach tightened.
Slowly, I rolled up my sleeves.
The room went silent.
The cuts were healing, but the bruises were still visible. The evidence of the night was still there, written across my skin.
Zia gasped.
Not loudly.
Just enough.
I gave her a tired look.
Not because I was angry.
Because I was exhausted.
And she understood.
She didn’t ask questions.
Not then.
Instead, she brought the first aid kit.
She cleaned the wounds carefully, hands shaking despite how much she tried to hide it. She made tea afterward, though I barely touched it.
She stayed.
That was the thing about Zia.
She stayed.
She didn’t try to fix everything with words. She didn’t tell me everything would magically be okay.
She just sat beside me through the silence.
When I finally lay down, she remained there.
Watching.
Waiting.
Until sleep finally took me.
When I woke up later that afternoon, sunlight had already filled the room.
For a moment, I forgot everything.
Then reality returned.
The attack.
The club.
The fear.
I turned my head.
Zia was still there.
Sitting in the same chair.
“You stayed?” I asked.
She looked at me like the question itself was ridiculous.
“Of course I stayed.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Yes, I did.”
There was no hesitation in her voice.
“I’m not going anywhere, Rue. Not today.”
And somehow, that meant more than any comforting speech could have.
That night, Zia finally left.
I went back to work.
Not because I wanted to.
Because I needed to.
Because I couldn’t let one person’s cruelty take away the one place that had given me a chance.
But I didn’t know that everything had already changed.
Cooper’s phone buzzed repeatedly on the desk.
Unknown number.
Then another.
Then another.
He ignored them at first.
Until the voicemail came through.
Something about the persistence made him pause.
He picked up the phone and played it.
The voice that filled the room was calm.
Too calm.
It was Mr Richardson.
“About our little misunderstanding today…”
Cooper’s expression tightened.
“I would like very much for you to make it disappear.”
A pause.
“You see, I have a reputation to protect.”
The voice changed slightly.
The politeness disappeared.
“I’m aware of your deals with Krage.”
Cooper stopped moving.
“It would only take a few calls for the authorities to shut down your club.”
Silence.
“If you want to keep your business open, you’ll do exactly what I say.”
Another pause.
“That girl needs to be gone.”
The voicemail ended.
Cooper stared at the phone.
For a long time, he said nothing.
The club felt different when I arrived that evening.
The music was louder.
The lights brighter.
But somehow everything felt colder.
People looked at me differently.
Some with pity.
Some with confusion.
Some avoided looking at me completely.
I tried not to notice.
I failed.
Less than an hour into my shift, someone came to get me.
“Cooper wants to see you.”
My stomach dropped.
I already knew.
Somewhere deep inside, I had known since I walked through the door.
Still, I followed.
Cooper didn’t look at me when I entered.
He stood behind his desk, staring at nothing.
When he finally looked up, he looked tired.
“Rue…”
He stopped.
I waited.
“He called me.”
I didn’t ask who.
I knew.
“Mr Richardson.”
The silence afterward told me everything.
“He’s threatening to shut the club down.”
My chest tightened.
“I can’t risk everyone losing their jobs.”
I said nothing.
“Rue…” He sighed. “Nothing justifies what he did to you. Nothing. But you have to understand, I’m a businessman.”
He looked away.
“I have a family. I have employees. I can’t lose everything.”
A bitter feeling settled in my chest.
“So that’s it?”
My voice was quiet.
“You’re letting him win because he has power.”
Cooper didn’t respond.
And that was answer enough.
Strangely, I couldn’t even hate him completely.
I understood.
If I were in his position, maybe I would have chosen myself too.
Maybe survival always came with a price.
But understanding didn’t make it hurt less.
“You do have a choice,” I said.
My voice became steadier.
“You just made it.”
Cooper looked down.
I waited for an apology.
An explanation.
Anything.
Nothing came.
“Okay,” I whispered.
And that was it.
No begging.
No anger.
No tears.
Something inside me had simply gone quiet.
Walking through the club felt heavier than leaving prison.
At least prison had walls that admitted they were keeping you in.
Here, people just looked away.
My former coworkers watched me leave.
Some looked angry.
Some looked sad.
Nobody stopped me.
Outside, the night air hit my face.
The street was darker than usual.
The sound of the club faded behind me.
I took a few steps.
Then I heard footsteps.
Too close.
Too fast.
I turned.
Too late.
A hard shove sent me stumbling.
“Thought you could just walk away?”
My heart stopped.
I tried to move back.
Tried to create distance.
But another figure appeared behind me.
Blocking my escape.
Before I could react, something pressed against my nose and mouth.
A cloth.
A chemical smell.
I struggled immediately.
No.
Not again.
My hands pushed against them, but my strength disappeared too quickly.
Voices blurred around me.
My vision shook.
My body stopped responding the way I wanted it to.
Somewhere through the haze, I saw movement.
A figure running toward us.
Someone shouting.
Someone coming closer.
But everything was already slipping away.
The street.
The voices.
The fear.
The world.
And then everything went black.
Not sleep.
Something darker.
Something I couldn’t fight.
I fell into a darkness I never chose.
c
verything was already slipping away.
The street.
The voices.
The fear.
The world.
And then everything went black.
Not sleep.
Something darker.
Something I couldn’t fight.
I fell into a darkness I never chose.
- Writer
