Chapter 1 : Daily Hell

*Charlotte*

“Get the fuck up, lazy ass bitch!”

That was my morning greeting before the piercing ice cold water was dumped on top of me. I held in a scream, shivering as I opened my eyes, glancing up at my. The sky was still dark, the sun had not even risen yet but the thug that stood over me didn’t care one bit.

He scowled down at me, holding the empty basin in his hands before he flung it to the ground, going for the whip on his belt.

Still shivering, I threw myself out of the bed as his whip snapped in the air but I was too slow and the burning pain slashed across my back as I fell to the floor with a cry.

“Get up and do your job,” He spat coldly at me before turning and walking away. Many of the other waiters, mostly women with thin and sallow appearances, gave me pitying glances as I struggled to my feet.

I changed from the old ratty gown we were given for the night, quickly changing into the waitress uniform I had grown accustomed to. It was loose around my waist again, I thought, I must’ve lost more weight.

I tightened the sash, hoping it would keep it on until I had time to alter it again tonight before following the other four women to the main bar, getting back to another demeaning and arduous labor.

The bar that I lived and worked in was more like a prison for debtors like me who couldn’t pay. It belonged to the criminal underworld, and I knew that the so-called labor that went on here was illegal in so many ways, but nobody would do anything about it.

The people who owned us were that powerful.

I ignored the lecherous looks and the skimpy hands I had to dodge as I delivered order after order, all watched by the few thugs sent to guard us in the corners, each having the same whip that I knew for a fact hurt like a bitch.

Especially me. I was the youngest of the women and thus the most desirable. The pretty face the men wanted as they got served their alcohol.

Which was ironic, I thought as I lifted up a tray full of ten beers all going to the same table, considering I was the only one who didn’t actually belong here.

I had never borrowed a penny from the million dollar debt they said I owed, yet here I was, serving out my debt like a slave. I gritted my teeth as another hand grabbed my ass and I only barely managed to dodge as they let out a bunch of catcalls for me to join them upstairs. I said nothing, simply focusing on doing my job and surviving another day in this hellhole.

My mother had passed away just after I was born, leaving my father to raise me all alone. When he got sick, his job let him go and we were left isolated and alone. The only thing my father could do to hold us afloat was borrow tons of high-interest loans, ones that he knew he couldn’t pay.

At the time I had no idea he had done so until he died three years ago and his creditor came looking for payment at his funeral. I was still a student, I didn’t have anything to my name but he didn’t care.

‘You’ll work to pay off your daddy’s debt or you’ll end up in the ground like him, girlie,’ The creditor had said with his nasty smile. I had no idea that he was part of the criminal underworld. He’d spared no time selling me off to this bar, coming back again and again for what little pay I made and yet, even as he took my pay, the interest kept going up faster than I could work. It was an endless cycle and for the past three years, this was the entirety of the world I knew.

I glanced at one of my fellow debtors who was being led up the stairs in the corner, a hefty gold exchanged to one of the thugs in return. She sent me a dead-eyed stare as she was pulled and I turned away, not bothering to look.

That was another way to pay off your debt, and even though I would never consider selling my body like that, I didn’t judge her one bit for it. We were all desperate here.

After the morning rush, I was assigned to the kitchen. Restocking the alcohol, cooking the very few greasy foods we carried, and cleaning whatever they deemed necessary. Since I was one of the few who refused to service the men in the other way, I was often assigned the hardest tasks- like cleaning the toilets.

But it was still better than waitressing.

The loud obnoxious cat-calling and drunk singing was one thing, even cleaning up the drunken idiots who pass out in their own vomit was doable. What I hated most was the molestation.

Dodging groping hands and ignoring nasty comments was difficult when every drunken asshole in the bar wanted to get his hand up your skirt. I did my best to avoid the most blatant high-end guests and repeat offenders but pushing hands off of you only worked for so long before they got angry.

Anger leads to bruises and open wounds.

I was used to the physical ‘motivation’ the guards called, and I was even used to the men who tried to cause trouble, all trying to get a chance to head upstairs with me. But even after three years, I had never broken down and used my body to pay off the money.

Call me a romantic, but I still believed in love, even in a hellhole like this. And I would only give myself to someone I truly loved. I’d rather work here for a thousand years than sell my bottom line like that.

Surprisingly, as the day dragged on and I was assigned back to the main floor room to serve, the night was unexpectedly calm. People minding their own business, and only a few drunkards who had to be escorted out.

I headed to the bar, handing off what I hoped was my last order of the night, when a low voice called out, “Excuse me.” from behind me.

Taking the open seat at the bar beside me, a young man sat down as still as a rock. He glanced at me as I waited for the order and my breath caught in my throat. There was something ethereal about him.

He was strikingly handsome, with eyes the color of a frozen lake in a winter storm, high cheekbones, and a chiseled jaw. He had the kind of features of someone who came from a place much higher and much better than this. He stood out in the dingy, nasty bar around us, like a single flower growing in a patch of weeds.

To me, he felt like the first moonlight that peeked through the clouds on a dark night, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him as my heart pounded in my chest.

“Um,” I said awkwardly, my voice raspy from the hard days at work, but before I could say anything more, the bartender slammed the drinks onto my tray with a sneer. Embarrassed and ashamed, I glanced at my ratty old uniform, realizing that we came from two different worlds.

How stupid I must’ve sounded to someone like him.

I grabbed the tray and fled to the guests, trying to ignore the handsome stranger who sat alone in the corner of the bar. If I hadn’t noticed him earlier, I doubt I would’ve. He blended in almost too well into the shadows and my curiosity piqued the longer he stayed.

He never ordered anything and didn’t say a word to anyone but he lingered there, looking out at the bar like an untouchable king on his throne. Out of curiosity, I approached him during one of the lulls.

“Um, here, I noticed you weren’t ordering anything so have this, It’s on me,” I said with a friendly smile. He stared at the drink I’d set in front of him, then turned to me.

“I didn’t ask for this,” He said indifferently.

I stiffened as the cold look in his eyes washed over me. A frozen lake was just right because it felt like I plunged into those depths. I swallowed, avoiding the slight hostility in his eyes, and quickly fled as I left him alone.

I berated myself in my head for being so stupid. What made me think he would be receptive to me? A little orphan working herself to death for her father’s debt. Of course, he wouldn’t want to talk to me.

I knew better than to expect things from a stranger I met for the very first time, especially one who inhabited this kind of shady place. Time to stay away from him, for my own sake.

I did my best to follow that notion, ignoring him like he didn’t exist as I cleaned up one of the booth tables, but as I did so, I was so focused on not paying attention, that I forgot what kind of place I worked in.

“Pretty girl,” A lecherous voice sounded behind me and before I could even register what was happening, hands rushed over my waist as a crushing body pushed me onto the booth sofa. A man with a crooked nose and leering eyes was on top of me and I struggled out from under him, pushing myself to the corner of the booth.

“Come on, I just want a little fun,” He slurred drunkenly, grabbing my collar and pulling. My uniform ripped down the front and I covered myself with one hand, panic lighting up my eyes as I saw the dazed look on his face.

He was drunk and there was no way I could overpower a drunken man’s strength. Self-preservation kicked in and I fought off the man’s attempts to pull off my clothes, my hand reaching out for something and closing on something solid and round.

“Get off of me!” I swung the object as hard as I could on top of the man’s head and what I now realized was a teapot shattered into shards. His eyes rolled back into his head, cuts on his face now bleeding and he collapsed on top of me, completely passed out.

I breathed heavily, shoving him off of me as I escaped the situation, still gripping tightly to the handle of the broken teapot.

“Are you alright?”

I spun around, wielding the handle of the teapot like a weapon but all of my fight drained away as I met the mysterious blue eyes of the stranger.