Chapter 8- The Quiet Between
424 Words
It was always quiet after.
After the wine, after the touch, after the city lights stopped glittering and became cold glass again. After Rex.
Faith sat at the edge of her cot above the club staring at her hands. They were clean. But they felt covered in something.
Not blood. Not yet. But the memory of it.
The room was dark except for the streetlight bleeding through the blinds. Jules was asleep across from her, curled under a ratty blanket, one foot twitching like she was running from something in her dreams.
Faith hadn’t slept in days. Not really. She dozed in pieces. Dreamed in static.
She’d been wearing new things lately. Cashmere sweaters. Subtle jewelry. A scent that cost more than a month’s rent. None of it was hers. All of it was his. And when the other girls looked at her now, it wasn’t curiosity anymore. It was distance.
The kind that came before resentment. Or fear. Faith didn’t blame them. She was slipping. And felt it.
She kept thinking about what Rex had said.
“If I asked you to lie to yourself..” That wasn’t a question. That was a map. A direction. A dare. And she’d taken it.
She was lying to herself already - telling herself she had control, that she could walk away, that none of this was changing her. But it was. Every glass of champagne. Every whisper of praise. Everytime he looked at her like she was something valuable instead of something used.
It chipped at her. Made her wonder if maybe this was what power looked like. If maybe this was what survival required. If maybe Fatima was wrong.
And then, there was Isabella.
The girl was fading. Quickly. She smiled less. Flinched more. Sometimes she didn’t show up for her shifts at all. When she did, her makeup was heavier. Her eyes were emptier.
Faith had started checking on her after hours - pretending she needed to borrow clothes, or give back earrings. Just an excuse to look her in the eye.
“You okay?”, she asked one night. Isabella blinked. Too slow.
“I’m fine,” she said, voice flat. “This is just..what it is, right?” Faith didn’t answer. Because she didn’t know anymore. And that silence?
That was the worst betrayal of all.
Later, alone again, she stared into the cracked mirror above the sink.
Her reflection was wearing a beautiful lie. And for the first time, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to take it off.
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