Silence

Chapter 1 - Silence

Lilac

He touches me, and I convulse under the pressure. Sharp moans slip from my half-open lips as he uses me, his hand gripping my neck, holding me down against the sofa. My body gives in. My mind goes blank.

This is right. This feels good.

That's all I can think-until it's over. Then everything comes rushing back. The raw emotions. The dark thoughts. Panic. The voices in my head start screaming, arguing, clawing at me with reminders of all the pain.

It only feels right because we stop feeling.

Why do we do this to ourselves?

Ya'll need to calm down-let's have some more fun while he's still here.

Be quiet.

Why not make him stay? Then it doesn't have to end.

And how the hell would we do that, dumbass?

We're cursed. Damned to pain and suffering.

Enough.

Ignore her. She won't do anything. She doesn't give two shits.

I said, enough.

...

Silence. Sweet, beautiful silence.

I'm pulled out of my head by a bag of ice landing in my lap. I look up. He's fully dressed, ready to leave.

"Thanks for the pay, sweetheart."

As he walks out the door, the urge to beg him to stay hits me like a wave. But I stay silent, knowing damn well that wouldn't end in my favor.

...

When he's gone, I sob. For a long time. Until I glance at the clock.

"s**t, I'm gonna be late!"

I throw on some clothes and take a quick hit. The ice burns, feels wrong and right in my throat-but it keeps the voices at bay. I bolt out the door, determined to get to work on time for once. I fling open my car door-and freeze.

A pamphlet sits on the seat.

Vistas and Vices - Therapy and Rehab Community

I toss it aside and move on with my day.

Conrad

I toss her the bag and zip up. She's not all there-never is-but that's not my problem.

"Thanks for the pay, sweetheart."

I catch a look on her face as I walk out. Like she's about to say something. Beg, maybe.

Don't.

That's all I can think.

I don't need anyone clinging. Especially not her.

I keep walking. Don't look back.

Yeah, I pity her. Sure. But pity doesn't pay bills. Doesn't fix s**t. I'm not here to save anyone. Least of all her.

Only reason I do this is it keeps the noise in my head down for a while. An hour of quiet. That's all I want.

No money changes hands. That'd make it feel real. This way, it's just... a trade. An even one. I don't owe her a thing.

Rest of the day's nothing special. In and out. Customers show up, do their thing, then leave. No names. No stories. No eye contact. Just how I like it.

Until it goes sideways.

Cops roll up. I should've seen them coming-my gut was off all day. Didn't listen.

Now I'm in the back of a squad car. Hands cuffed. Staring out the window, trying not to freak out. They took everything-seven grand in gear, gone. Just like that.

My jaw's tight. I keep my face still.

Don't let it show. Breathe.

It's just a charge. Just time. Nothing I haven't handled before.

Still-my hands won't stop shaking.

There's a pamphlet next to me on the seat. No clue where it came from.

Vistas and Vices - Therapy and Rehab Community.

I almost laugh. Rehab.

Yeah, right.

Maria

I'm working the pole when he shows up-screaming, threatening. My ex.

The bouncers drag him out. Again.

My boss calls me into his office.

"This is the third time this week, Maria." His expression says I'm on my last warning. "I'm sick of him showing up just to cause trouble. He's banned, and yet every night you're working, he finds a way in. Either it stops, or you're gone."

I can't lose this job. It's all I have. No education, no experience. No one else will take me.

He interrupts my spiral. "I need you to get back to work. Now. Please."

That please means nothing. It's not a request-it's a choice: go back, or go home.

So I head out. Butter's taken my place on stage. She's stunning under the blue lights, swaying to the beat, sliding down the pole with her legs wide, unashamed.

I wish I could be like that, I think as I slip into the dressing room.

Time to get ready for the next show.

...

The dressing room smells like heat and perfume - irons left on too long, cheap body spray clinging to the walls. Candy's lacing up her go-go boots. Leah's leaning into the mirror, hands trembling as she reapplies her liner. Dandelion's crouched beside a new girl, murmuring something about posture and pretending you're in control even when you're not.

I head to my table. My body's sore, my head's a knot of fear and fake smiles. Then I see it - something under my wig.

A folded pamphlet.

Vistas and Vices - Therapy and Rehab Community.

My chest tightens.

I look around the room, but no one's paying attention.

Who put this here?

What are they trying to say?

The noise of the club throbs through the walls, muffled but ever-present. For a moment, I wish it would all just stop. Just long enough to think. Just long enough to breathe