10 | Rich Bitch

Lost in the haze of my sweet, deadly nightmare, I didn't realize when sleep claimed me until a sudden jolt pulls me back to reality.

"What?" I snap, groggy and disoriented, as I rub my eyes, squinting at the two hulking guards who barely fit in the cramped room.

"The boss demands your presence," one of them speaks, his voice cold and mechanical.

I glance at my side. Lucy, oblivious to the world, is sprawled out like a snoring pig, her mouth agape and limbs splayed awkwardly. I turn back to the guards, who are already growing impatient.

"Like this?" I ask with a shrug, gesturing at my disheveled state-a blood-stained pink bra and black jeans, nothing more.

One of the guards huffs in annoyance and tosses a black shirt at my face. Thankfully, it smells clean, though it's three sizes too big. I'm not complaining. At least they give me something to wear.

I quickly slip it on, then limp after the guards, wincing as I clutch my bandaged arm. It feels as if the weight of the world has crushed