She was almost home if the shit-hole she lived in qualified as one. No one could miss her house, even without directions. It was the only unpainted and untidy apartment on the block. She had a lot to deal with, and painting an apartment wasn't joining the list anytime soon.
She barely had enough time for herself, let alone the garden. She didn't need it. So, why weed it? That night, her apartment stood out. It was the only one without light. She couldn't afford the electricity bills.
She slipped into her room without difficulty. The lock on the door was broken, but she couldn't care less. After all, there was nothing worth stealing not even the mattress she slept on, rats had made a feast out of it.
Natasha was a twenty-year-old with no parents, The only family she had left was a younger sister who was better off than she was. She worked menial jobs which could hardly cover all the bills she had to pay, she hardly had enough money to care for herself and her appearance portrayed it even from a distance.
Her skin was rough with equally rough hands, she could pass for one of the escapees of the mafia slave trade.
On entering her room, the first thing she caught sight of was a folded piece of paper on the table, which was probably the most valuable item she owned. It was a note reminding her of her misery. She could either pay a debt of 2000 dollars by the end of the next month or be without a roof over her head.
She tore the note into pieces. She would just pretend she didn't get it. "What right did the apartment owner have to enter her room?" She thought. She would sue him as soon as she had enough money.
She wished a billion dollars would just appear right in front of her, but that was just wishful thinking, it wouldn't happen. What would happen was her dragging her feet to the nightclub, her last job for the day.
She walked out of her house and headed to the nightclub where she works as a waitress. It was a twenty-minutes walk from her house and she was running late already, but she couldn't afford the bus fare. She just had to walk faster, stressing her already tired and thin legs.
She reached the club just in time to avoid missing the roll call taken at the beginning of every shift. She worked at the Splash club, one of the biggest clubs in the city.
Getting the job was a very hard task, and she had no plans to flunk it anytime soon, and the tips she got from the customers always came in handy.
"Hi, Natasha," someone said as soon as she stepped into the club.
Spinning round, she came to face with Sugar, the biggest bitch at the club. She was a tall, fair redhead with a pretty oval face and the body of a seductress. She was the top stripper at the club.
Because of Sugar's popularity, it got to her head. She belittled the likes of Natasha who didn't even get a chance to wait tables at the VIP sections.
"Guess where I'll be working today again? She asked, "The VIP section," she whispered into Natasha's ears.
"Guess what? I'm not a slut!" Natasha replied with a smirk on her face.
Sugar turned red with anger and walked away almost immediately.
"You always have the perfect replies, don't you?" someone said from behind her.
It was Daisy, one of the few waitresses who hated Sugar's guts just as much as Natasha did. Sometimes, Natasha felt she was just trying so hard to be her friend. But, she had no interest in friendships. She was better off alone.
"You always got there because of your boyfriend," Daisy continued.
Getting sent up to serve the big men in the VIP lounge was the dream of many waitresses. Some even went the extra mile to secure a spot there, but Natasha had no interest in that. She was doing just fine serving the men at the tables.
Waitresses who went up there flirted or had s*x with the men in exchange for some money. No amount of desperation or financial need would make her give up her body. She wasn't giving herself to anyone. And, she intended to keep it that way.
"Are you all meant to be working or lazing around? I guess I'll cut the time wasted from your paychecks. And, Natasha, Remain at the back this night," the voice of the manager cut through their conversation.
Cry-baby Sugar had reported to her ugly boyfriend. She would do anything to prey on her.
Natasha couldn't care less. Anything that wasn't paying her bills was unimportant. As much as she needed the tips she was likely to get, this was an opportunity for her.
She was exhausted and would probably slump if she had to move around to serve in those painful high shoes she was wearing. But, being at the back, all she had to do was take out drinks that needed to be restocked when necessary.
She would also take out the trash once it got filled. She couldn't wait to go home, but the night just started. She had about three hours left until closing.
She sat on the floor immersed in her thoughts and slowly drifted off.
She always dreamt of becoming a popular fashion designer, hosting her shows and hiring models who would walk the runway displaying her beautiful designs. Her dreams had been cut short by the death of her parents. She was left with her sister to take care of and had no money.
She did every job she could do to take care of her sister and ensure she went to school. Including some that she wasn't proud of. Some that almost cost her life and put her sister in harm's way. Memories of her past always hunted her. It was unforgettable.
"It's midnight, Natasha. Wake up," Daisy was tapping Natasha frantically. "Wake up before the boss gets here."
Her eyes immediately opened at the mention of their boss. She had gone to sleep while thinking. In less than a second, the boss entered the back room, made some checks, and paid her thirty dollars.
She was happy he didn't notice she had just woken up. If he did, then she would have lost her thirty dollars for the night. Thirty dollars was an incredibly little amount of money, but she had no choice. She couldn't risk complaining and getting fired.
She muttered a thank you to Daisy. Maybe having a friend wasn't a bad idea.
* * *
Her feet were aching by the time she got home. Pushing the door open, something didn't feel right. Her lock was broken, but opening the door had never been that easy.
She made out a figure in the darkness and turned immediately to run, but she bumped into a hard chest instead and was pushed back into the room. She had nowhere to run to.
"Take a seat, Vera," the figure commanded.
"VERA!" Nobody addressed her by that name. She had been found.