A Night That Was Never Mine

Clara's POV

I stared at Derick as he walked out the door, and deep inside me, I knew what he said was true. I was indeed a slave, bound to this stripping job to work forever—until I succumbed to death itself.

I felt pain and not just pain but betrayal to its peak. If I had seen what was coming, I wouldn't have gotten into a relationship with Alaric in the first place. I feel I am not normal anymore, I felt like I was in a cage I can't run out from.

I was an orphan, raised without a father or mother. I grew up in an orphanage and eventually went to college. After graduating, I worked at a restaurant, leaving my peaceful life with my little earnings, and that was when I met Alaric—the man who had caused the pain I was drowning in now. We made love, and I never imagined he could be so heartless, to betray me in such a gruesome way.

I once suggested finding a high-paying job to help repay the debt faster, but the crime boss refused. I was informed that my jackass boyfriend had used me as collateral. I couldn’t understand why. I was a human being—I could breathe, feel—and yet he treated me like a thing, a mere commodity that can be used and dumped.

The next morning...

Daybreak came. I stood from the couch I had slept on and was ready to head home. I had no money, no food to eat. Everything I earned at night was taken from me. I had no mouth to speak, no chance to report to the police. If I did, the consequences would haunt me. I’d rather face death than those consequences. So, I kept myself in line. I stayed silent.

I changed into my normal clothes so I wouldn’t look awkward on the street. Just as I was about to walk out of the stripping club, Derick came out from a corner and stretched his hand toward me.

“Take this. Use it to get some food so you won’t starve to death.”

I shifted my gaze to what he was holding—money. It wasn’t enough to feed me for more than two days, but still, having something was better than having nothing.

I took the money from his hand and bowed my head slightly in appreciation. “Thank you,” I said quietly.

I walked away and got into a taxi. The driver took me home.

Where I lived was a dump—or to put it better, I lived in a room that looked like trash, because almost everything in it made me feel sick. I had no money to pay for better rent. Alaric didn’t just ruin my life—he also made me homeless.

When I arrived, as expected, the place was a mess. My bed was turned over, and my wall was punctured. I knew why—it was them again, the thugs. They often came around and terrorized the neighborhood. I was lucky I hadn’t come home last night. Who knows what could’ve happened?

I gasped in frustration and walked into my room. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. I was used to it. Honestly, sleeping on the roadside felt safer than staying here. But at least I had a roof over my head.

Within a few hours, I arranged everything—the bed, the broken wall, the scattered items.

I lay on my bed, and beside me was a picture from my college days. It was me and Alaric. He had his arm wrapped around my waist while I smiled foolishly at him. If I had known what would happen in the future, I would never have stayed with him. If I could travel back in time, I’d take that chance in a heartbeat—just to warn my old self.

“F**k that bastard. He ruined every inch of my life.” I mumbled to myself, tears rolling from my eyes. I wiped them off with the back of my hand.

After a few hours, which turns out to be night.

I dressed up as usual. It was time to leave for the job I never wished to do, a nightmare I always pray to wake up from. If I had the chance to run away—to another country, anywhere far from this so-called “boss”—I’d do it without hesitation. But I had no money to even dream of that. I was stuck here. And even if I somehow got the money, I was scared of what could happen if I tried to escape.

I knew that if I worked hard enough, maybe someday, I could pay off the entire debt and live a free life.

I walked down the road, the streetlights casting their glow as I waited for a taxi. Within minutes, one approached. I waved it down, got in, and we drove off.

In no time, we arrived at Los Santos Strip Club. I stared at the building—it felt like walking into a nightmare. The place was always busy, and yes, I wasn’t the only one doing this job. Many girls were stripping here. They got paid well and went home with full pockets—unlike me, who always left with nothing.

I sighed deeply, then walked into the club. The loud music blasting from the speakers instantly irritated me. I’d always been allergic to too much noise—and now I had to drown in it, night after night.