Primus, Secundus, Tertius, Quartus, Quintus.

There were five different ranks in the Box, the lower you get, the worse your life, the higher you get, the better your life. It was quite simple, and yet it still seemed complex in the execution of that idea.

The Box was its own world, and once you entered, you could never leave again. You were stuck in there until you die, and if you were very "unqualified" people with better qualifications could basically get away with murdering you.

Not only were they less protected the lower their ranks got, they lived more and more crappy, divided into different parts of the Box.

A Primus lived in giant villas with equally giant gardens in a district full of luxurious decoration and nature to appreciate while a Quintus lived with a lot other Quintus' in giant halls and had almost no privacy and in constant danger of becoming a victim to a spreading disease.

Tertius was more like an apartment complex with nature inbetween that still grants the whole thing a rather good atmosphere, Secundus just wasn't that luxurious and Quartus not that bad since they actually had their own living space and only had to share a bathroom with the neighbor.

They were basically separated everywhere - in the public tram, in the activities they can participate in, the restaurants they can eat in or not, and the amount of existential things they even needed. The free days from work. The types of work. Everything was separated, and everything about the system was protected very well to avoid that anyone would ever try to rebel. So many people watching them and checking if they are behaving.

So much degradation for the two lowest ranks. They can be enslaved by a Primus, for fucks sake. They even have to watch who they become friends with, since a friendship between a, for example, Secundus and Quartus already raises a suspicion. Not to speak about a romance between two people of two different ranks.

Personally, Juliet didn't know if she should scream in agony about the fact that she was just a Quartus or cry out of joy for her not being a Quintus. She still had to fear that a Primus could think that she'd look very good as their slave, but at least she wasn't living inbetween garbage.

Even her work was passable by now, the pain had stopped feeling so overly bad as it did those years ago. She's been a prostitute at that club for three years now, lived in the Box for five, but has been completely isolated.

And it was better that way. It was better to live here when living in isolation.

It helped her with her job. It truly helped. To just not really know anyone. Yes, sometimes she sees some of her clients on the streets, but they never recognize her (thanks to the wonders of make-up and precise outfit choice) and she didn't have to tell any close friends or something about her nightly agony because she didn't have close friends.

The flowers were her friends. The wind blowing through her ginger hair. The beautiful nature that tended to her eyes, they were her friends.

She still was a gardener in the Box' park after all. And this boss was enlighteningly nice, as nice as he could be.

The grass was soft underneath her knees as she got rid of the weeds growing inbetween her neatly arranged flowers. The thick gloves prevented her from feeling pain if she grabbed into roses by accident. Her ponytail was holding her hair out of her face.

Juliet liked this work. She restored her energy with this work.

Even if she grabbed into roses and they did come through, or the stinging nettles found one little spot of bare skin to hurt her, she liked that pain so much more than the other. She even preferred the pain of losing her sister and loving in isolation to the pain that was coming for her at night.

It was rough, having to work in the next night even if one of her ribs was almost broken by a customer who got off to beating her up in her stomach area, liking how she curled into a little ball, this being satisfaction to her. The satisfaction she went there at the first place - Juliet could see that she might've been jealous or actually cheated on by her man with one of the prostitutes in that club.

That almost broken rib incident had happened about a week ago and the bruises were still hurtful and extremely colorful on top of that. Her throat was bruised, her wrists, her hips, and there were some scars she tended to cover up every night with her strong make up like the rest.

It had been really difficult to conceal all those wounds from yesterday night. It had been a rough one, and there was a lot of frustration and anger going around within the men and women living there in the Box.

In fact, almost everyone in her life always met her with a negative mood and hurtful words and rough hands. She only remembered the soft hugs and prayers from her sister and the tenderness yet humor of one of their visitors in a time where Juliet still had been the maid serving drinks. But like everyone else she'd left one night and never returned for another, never again.

At least she'd never see the pit Juliet had gotten herself in after she was gone. Though it left her empty, even more empty than ever before, and she occasionally found herself wishing for... a friend.

A real friend. Someone she could talk to. That could talk back. Juliet loved her flowers, the nature, she'd emphasized on that.

But she just missed real conversations with real people from out of nowhere, just as the simple thought of a friendship that once happened came up for a little moment.

It hurt to see good friends or even couples pass by her lonely self on the floor as her heart hurt at the knowledge that it didn't make sense for her to make any friends at all.

It didn't make sense, and yet she just wanted it to make sense after all.