Ashley took a deep breath as she walked into the spotlight, hearing the whispers and snickers from the crowd but doing her best to ignore them. The low, harsh laughter began as soon as she came into sight, swelling to fill the room like a taunt meant just for her. She kept her gaze steady, her face unreadable, refusing to let their mocking smirks penetrate her calm.
Fred felt his stomach turn, his eyes darkening as he watched Emily openly humiliate Ashley. Emily, wrapped in her designer dress and dripping with expensive jewellery, looked every bit like the queen bee as she sneered at Ashley. But what surprised him most was how Ashley stood there, silent, unflinching, her head bowed slightly. She didn't say a word or show any sign of sadness or anger. She just...stood there, waiting for it to end.
To Ashley, this was just another hurdle, and compared to what she faced at home, Emily's cruelty felt small. She knew that if she reacted, she'd risk losing her pay for the evening, and her family's hunger would be the price. So, she stood still, counting down the minutes until this would be over.
Frustrated by Ashley's lack of response, Emily's lips twisted into a smug smile as she reached for her wine glass. With a delicate flick of her wrist, she poured the entire glass over Ashley's simple, worn dress, red wine staining the fabric and spreading like spilt blood.
A pang of humiliation tugged at Ashley, her mind racing with a familiar question that haunted her daily: When will this stop? But she knew better than to answer it. This wasn't the time for dreams, and it certainly wasn't the time for outbursts. Instead, she kept her head bowed, even as murmurs of satisfaction rippled through the crowd, some clapping for Emily's "courage."
Emily wasn't done. Displeased by Ashley's silence, she let out a bitter laugh and, with sudden malice, swung her hand forward, delivering a slap that echoed through the room. The blow caught Ashley off guard, sending her stumbling backwards until she fell to the floor, her vision blurring with unshed tears.
The laughter in the room grew louder, some girls from Emily's circle openly applauding, while others gasped in shock. Some from the average crowd frowned, muttering amongst themselves in discomfort. But the rich, the popular—they only watched, amused, letting the scene play out.
Emily, emboldened by the attention, bent down, reaching for Ashley's hair, ready to drag her up for more humiliation. But then, a voice cut through the noise.
"Stop!" The room fell silent, parting to reveal Fred, standing at the edge of the crowd, his expression fierce.
Emily froze, her grip loosening in shock. "Fred," she stammered, her voice a mixture of disbelief and embarrassment.
"What you've done to her is enough." Fred's voice was calm but cold as he stepped forward, ignoring Emily completely. His gaze was fixed on Ashley, who still sat on the floor, her hands covering her face as soft, muffled sobs escaped her.
Kneeling beside her, Fred reached into his pocket and handed her a handkerchief. "It's okay," he said softly. "You don't have to cry over people like them."
Ashley looked up, eyes wide, and took the handkerchief from him, barely managing a quiet "Thank you." Her voice was faint, filled with a mixture of gratitude and disbelief.
A ripple of envy swept through the crowd as Fred helped Ashley to her feet. Whispers broke out again, jealousy simmering among the girls who longed for the same attention, the same tenderness. To them, Fred was a prize, the epitome of everything they wanted but couldn't quite capture.
"I think we should go," Fred suggested, his tone gentle as he reached for her arm, ready to guide her out.
Ashley shook her head, glancing away. "I can't," she said quietly. "I still need to get paid."
Fred's brow furrowed at her response. He hadn't expected her to care about the pay after everything she'd been through tonight, but he quickly understood. "Don't worry, I'll handle it," he reassured her, lifting her with an ease that made her feel both fragile and protected.
As they made their way out, Fred opened the door to his sleek black car, helping her inside before walking around to the driver's side. Once in the car, he looked over at her, his tone softened. "Which way is your house?"
Ashley pointed in silence, guiding him through quiet streets and past worn buildings until they finally reached a small, faded house just on the outskirts of town. The house was modest, a humble contrast to the grand mansions Fred was used to. He glanced at her, absorbing the reality of her situation with a pang of empathy.
"So, how much were you supposed to be paid tonight?" he asked, pulling out his wallet.
Ashley hesitated. "One hundred and fifty dollars," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She felt a twist of shame, but it vanished when Fred handed over the amount without hesitation.
She offered him a small, grateful smile. "Thank you," she said again, more sincerely this time as if those two words were all she had to give.
****
The shrill beep of her alarm jerked Ashley awake. Her hand went to her cheek instinctively, feeling the faint throb left behind by Emily's slap. The pain didn't bother her it was a small price to pay for a meal, after all.
Dragging herself out of bed, she knelt beside it, clasping her hands and saying a quick prayer. Her mother had always told her that faith could carry them through the hardest days, and she clung to it, especially in moments like these.
After her prayer, she went to the bathroom, squeezing the very last drop of toothpaste from the tube. She made a mental note to pick up another tube when she had the money, applying more pressure than usual just to make the paste last.
Once she was ready, she grabbed her backpack and headed to the small kitchen, finding her father already seated at the dining table, staring at his half-full cup of water, lost in thought. It was his daily routine a quiet moment to prepare himself for the day ahead, a day that often brought little more than struggle.
"Good morning, Dad," she greeted, her voice quiet but warm.
Her father looked up, managing a faint smile that barely reached his weary eyes.
"Ash, you're off to school?" her mother asked as she entered, exhaustion etched on her face. She'd just returned from her night shift at the bar, her eyelids heavy, as if they could barely stay open.
"Yeah, Mom," Ashley replied, heading over to the counter to see if there was anything left for breakfast. She was hungry, but she'd take whatever little she found with gratitude.