The price of her freedom

Deborough’s Apartment, Downtown Los Angeles She flinched at the sharp clinking of a wine glass hitting a bottle. He was drinking again, which meant tonight would be worse than usual. "Are you done?" He called from across the tiny apartment. She froze, clutching the hem of her skirt. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead. “Are you deaf?” he screamed louder. She flinched and ran out of the room, still clutching the hem of her miniskirt to keep it from revealing her thighs. The air in the sitting room reeked of whiskey and sweat. His scent soaked every corner of the tiny apartment. “What the hell are you wearing?” His eyes dragged over her body, like a price tag scanner. “It has to be shorter, Goddamn it!” he slammed the glass cup on the stool, causing it to break. Startled, she moved back. “I’m not running a damn charity here!” he screamed even louder. “What difference does it make? "They’ve seen it all anyway,” she said under her breath before turning on her heel and heading back to change. “You'd better clean that up”, he said to the sound of her heels on the wooden floor. Ayla had always had a tough life. So difficult that she can’t remember the last time she had a good meal, a good laugh, or even a good day. It's been seven years of torture from Mr DeBorough. It is always hard to think that such a cruel being could come from the same womb as her mother. Her sweet mother, tears rolled down her cheeks as she dug through her drawer for a shorter skirt and a more revealing shirt. She could hear him humming Michael Jackson’s Smooth Criminal. “That's fitting. Just that you aren’t smooth,” she murmured and laughed at her own joke. She wiped her face and put on a denim mid-thigh-length skirt and a white crop top with sequins. She didn’t bother to change her heels before stepping out of the room. “That’s what I’m talking about”, he screamed and laughed between his teeth. “I don't understand why you always have to put up a fight when you never win,” He added and moved closer to her. When he got close enough, he placed his hands on her breasts and fondled them, then he hit her bum. “You made me do that, Ayla. "Don’t start whining like a child,” he smirked. “Pack the glass and let’s go make me some money!” he laughed out loudly before heading out the door. Ayla stood still for a few seconds, swallowing the tears that were beginning to form in her throat. She had learnt not to cry. It only made them angrier. And when they were angrier, they hurt more. “Damn, Ayla. "What did you do to deserve this?” She muttered and hurried after him. Wolfe Estate, Beverly Hills The fireplace crackled, but the heat did nothing to ease the chill in the room. Killian stood across the room, arms crossed, teeth clenched, staring out the window. His father raged behind him. “I have said it and it's final. No wife. No kids. No inheritance!” he said before clutching his chest and walking slowly to take a seat. “Why are you so hellbent on getting us hooked, father?” Killian’s younger step-brother, Raymond, asked with confusion in his voice. “Yes, why?” Killian added before turning back to face his father and brother. “Oh, now both of you agree on something,” their father replied sharply. “Why, Father?” Killian responded. “You can’t just demand a wife and children. I have been asking you for a while. And if you refuse to let us know what is going on, I personally will treat your words as a bluff. I’m not a child, and you can’t keep ordering me around. "Maybe him,” he pointed to his brother. “But not me,” he said calmly but sternly. “Hey, watch your mouth!” Raymond screamed back at him. “Saying something, Father, you’ve been on this for months without telling us the reason.” “I wish not to say anything, let me be. You are old enough. Get yourself a woman and start building a family!” “Then let me be too. "I don’t want a wife,” Killian said and walked out of the room. “I have a brain tumor, and the doctor said I only have two years.” His father dropped the words like a bombshell. Killian stopped in his tracks at the heartbreaking news. Killian and his father always had something to fight about. They are never in agreement, but he was still the man who taught him how to throw a ball, ride a bicycle, and even stand up to bullies. He might have made some choices Killian would never agree with, but he was still his father. How would he have two years to live? The man was only 50.. “What!” Raymond screamed, interrupting his thoughts, “A tumor?” “Two years?” Killain wanted to turn back, to hold his father close and tell him how sorry he was, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that. He was still angry, and it would take more than just a tumor to soften his heart, not after what he did to his mother. Killian quickened his steps. As he walked through the long and silent hallway, his head spun like crazy, and he just couldn’t understand it. What audacity, to be close to death, and still try to control their lives. “Get a wife or no inheritance?” “ He must be kidding me!” he banged the car door he had opened before pacing around. He seemed to rethink, then he got into the car and sped off. He needed to clear his head, to get away from the madness of his family, so he kept driving amidst the lit Los Angeles city lights. He turned onto 6th Street, and when he looked around, it was a completely unfamiliar environment. He was downtown. Drake’s Dive Bar, 6th Street, Downtown Los Angeles “Hey, sexy girl,” “Give me some sugar,” “How much for two hours?” All the men seemed to be calling out to her. Ayla stood at the corner of the tiny bar, clenching her teeth from feeling cold and biting her nails from being nervous. “Hey, sexy,” she felt someone touch her shoulder. She flinched and turned, only to see Lena, her best and Only friend. “I was about to smack the heck out of you,” she teased with a grin. “Easy tiger,” Lena said, pulling her in for a hug. Lena was Ayla’s escape from reality. Lena always managed to put her in a good mood, even on her worst days. She considers their friendship to be fated because they met in the rarest circumstances possible. A few years ago, Ayla had been sitting in the hospital hallway, clutching her tattered teddy bear, when she suddenly heard a kid ask her if she wanted a sandwich. Ayla hadn’t talked to anyone in two days. The doctors never said anything to her because she was too young to understand, and her mum, who was on life support, couldn’t move a muscle, let alone talk to her. Mr. DeBorough didn’t come regularly, so she switched between sitting in the hallway and beside her mother. Asking her if she wanted a sandwich was a relief for her and her grumbling stomach. “Yes, please,” she said, not looking up. The little girl offered her a sandwich and kept coming after that day. Ayla later found out that she was coming with her father, who was a major investor in the hospital renovation project. Lena was nothing like her. From Uptown Los Angeles, with wealthy parents and strong connections. She is bold, beautiful, and she always gets what she wants. The one time she stood up to her uncle, it was with Lena’s help. “Where’s that disgusting uncle of yours?” Lena asked. Ayla pointed to a round table about five seats across from them. Mr Deborough was there drinking away and laughing with other men. Lena looked away for a moment, biting her lip like she was holding something back. “Oh my gosh, he’s so handsome,” one of the girls who was standing in line suddenly screamed, and Ayla and Lena looked in the direction of her eyes. There he was in a blue blazer, his hair shiny even in the dark blue disco lights. He walked in slowly, looking around like he was lost. It took a minute for him to savor the environment before he walked to the bar. ‘He’s so hot!” Lena said excitedly, with her fingers fanning her face like she was really hot. “I’m going to him. Oh gosh, this is the first time I’m not regretting coming here,” she said hastily and adjusted her breasts to pop out of her top before going to the bar. Ayla stood still, watching her try to talk to him, but he didn’t seem interested, at least not from the angle she was watching. After a few minutes, Lena walked back slowly, angry and disgusted. “I think that guy is deaf, or dumb, or if he is neither of those. " He’s definitely stupid.” Ayla couldn’t help but laugh. That was the first time Lena was returning from a “men's trip” with a negative outcome. “Maybe he’s not just in a good mood.” She didn't finish her sentence before she saw her uncle coming towards her with Lucas. “Not again. Over my dead body,” she said under her breath. “What? He’s so handsome, can’t you see?” Lena said, completely unaware of the horror show happening behind her. “No! ""My uncle is coming with Lucas,” she said, her eyes wide open like she had just seen a ghost. “There’s no way that man is touching me ever again; his teeth are rotten, and he smells badly. He even beats me before he does it all in the name of kinks. Never again! Lena looked at Lucas, smiling. One could see the rot, the yellowish color; his trousers were falling from his waist, so he held them with one hand and a beer with the other. “My sexy girl,” Lucas said to Ayla, still holding his beer and trousers. He smelled so bad that Lena could not help but say something about his body odor. “You smell like rotten, dead fish, old man!” Lena screamed at his face, and Lucas lost it. “Shut the f**k up, you b***h!” “Get out of her, or I’ll slap your beautiful face into a coma,” he snapped back at her, but Lena was never one to let others have the last laugh. “Thank God you know I’m beautiful. If you touch me, you’ll land in jail,” she immediately snapped back at him. “Stay out of this, Lena”! Mr. DeBorough cut Lena off and turned his attention to Ayla. “You are going with him in fifteen minutes.” “No, I’m not,” Ayla said quietly, terrified of what her refusal might cause, but she was not about to go with this dirty old ragged man. Killian shook his legs uncomfortably on the barstool. Everything about this place was different. The lights were dimmer, the seats were worn out, and he felt like he would fall if he exerted all his weight on the stool. The bartender was saucy, and the girls looked pretty but tired. Especially the one standing at the corner by the pole. He doesn’t care much about women, but her hair; the only time he had ever seen hair that golden was on his mother. He looked at her a little bit more, the way she moved her lips fast, it looked like she was protesting. The man in front of her was holding her, and she was trying desperately to break free. It was uncomfortable to watch, but it seemed like normal practice, as no one was willing to interfere, so he downed his last drink and stood up to go out. “I said I’m not going!” Ayla screamed and suddenly ran behind him, holding his arms and breathing heavily. Another woman shouted in support, “Yes! She’s not going with you, you scoundrels!” Killian was confused; it suddenly felt like fiction. What just happened? And why is the gold-haired lady holding him? And why is everyone staring at him? He tried to move forward and break free from her grip, but she held him tighter and whispered. “Please, sir, please.” Killian looked back to see her looking up at him. Her eyes met his. He couldn’t quite make out their colour. It was wide and hollow but not empty. “I’ll go with him instead, right?” she said aloud, still looking at him with her large eyes. Okay, Killian. This is the part where you say something. What happens if the girl was a thief who was trying to escape, he doesn’t even know who she was. He needed to excuse himself from the situation. All eyes were on him, and the most reasonable thing to do was to yank her hands off him and walk out. “She doesn’t want to go with you; she’ll go with me instead,” he heard himself say. “No problem,” a big potbellied man with greasy hair replied, “That’d be $200.” “That’s a lie, it's 20!” the golden-haired girl screamed. “Shut up, you i***t!” the man replied. He motioned for her not to worry, so he paid. “Do you have to pick anything up?” he asked in a deep, calm voice. Unable to answer, she just shook her head. “Let’s go,” he said, then walked out. She followed after him, feeling relieved that she escaped Lucas, but uncertain of who this mysterious man was. They got into his very fancy car, and he drove off. Ayla looked at him as he was completely focused on driving. Now that she could take in his face, he looked like something out of a fashion magazine. The strands of his hair were neatly arranged like they had to be measured; not one strayed in the wrong direction. “Thank you,” she said. But he didn't reply; he just kept driving until he got to the end of the street. “Get off,” he said Ayla couldn’t afford to get off; her uncle should not see her. If he did, he would make her go with another man. “You have paid…might as well get your money’s worth, sir,” she said, surprised at her own boldness. “Use my money on what? You? "Please get off,” he said sternly. “You don’t want to.. Okay, please, I can't get off If he sees me, he’ll give me to another guy, please.” “That’s none of my business, get down,” it sounded like a last warning, so Ayla gently got down, and he immediately sped off. Ayla stood for a while watching the car speed off into the distance, nervously sitting on the sidewalk and wondering how she was going to hide from her uncle and his numerous friends. In a few minutes, he’ll come down here to pay the girls he could take home. She was still in deep thoughts when a car suddenly stopped in front of her. “Hey! "Got you b***h!” a man’s voice snarled as the car screeched to a stop.