“Oh sweetie, psychos are real and they look like people.”
~
Anastasia’s POV
As I walk out of the club, the early morning chill greets me like a slap in the face, snapping me out of the tiredness that has settled over me. My legs ache badly, setting a reminder of the long hours I've spent catering to the wants of the different VIP clients.
I wrap my jacket tighter around me, the thin fabric offering little protection against the morning cold. The city streets are deserted, save for the occasional taxi, their headlights shining on my face.
I hail a taxi, grateful for the warmth and solitude that envelops me as I slide into the backseat. The driver, a kind-eyed man, asks me where I'm headed, and I give him my address, my voice barely above a whisper.
The ride to my apartment was quiet,
