Chapter 2

Diego's POV

I shut the door behind me. The clicking of my heels recedes as I pause in front of the mirror. The thrill of the previous night was still alive in my chest. The way they looked at me, admiring me and craving me. It was a gay club, but there were still men who had eyes for a pretty lady like me. Unbeknownst to them, I was a man, hiding under the pretense of a lady, a crossdresser and proud of it.

I pull off my blonde wig and let the fake lashes fall off my eyelids. As the fake strands fall away, I'm left with my natural auburn hair, wild from the hours of dancing. I let my hand slid into my hair, feeling its crispy nature on my smooth palm. I place the blonde wig back to its place on my head, admiring my looks as I stared into the mirror.

There was something exhilarating about last night. Some of the men looked like they could tear me apart, and then, there was him. I close my eyes, the memory of him hitting me like a whirlwind.

The man that sat near the bar in a place that looked like a secluded booth. I had no idea of his name. But while I danced, I stole glances at him and his eyes never left me even for a second. There was something unsettling about the way he looked at me. His eyes were dark and piercing like he was dissecting every inch of me. His hair slicked back and tied in a knot. He was older, well dressed and exuded an aura that made my heart race.

And there was that moment I threw my fingers at him, a flirty sign that he should come over. He looked at me and in a second, he turned his face away, making me feel unimportant. I guess he wasn't the type to pick interest in a woman when they are a variety of men to choose from. I hurried away from the stage, feeling slightly embarrassed.

I shake my head, trying to pull the thoughts away. It was just an eye contact, nothing more. If he had come closer, maybe I would have got the chance to slip my hands down my body, to show him more, to tease. But something told me he wasn't like the others.

I removed the rest of my makeup, leaving the wig on my head. My lipstick smudged against a tissue and I heard a knock on the door.

“Who's there?” I raise my voice, slightly irritated. I wasn't in the mood for company. The only answer I got was the continuous knocking. I turned towards the door, unlocking it with my keys. Before I can twist the doorknob, it suddenly bursts open without warning.

I can barely react before a fist slams into my stomach, knocking the air out of me. I stumbled backwards, falling against the dresser and knocking off my makeup kit. Pain shoots through my ribs and I gasp, trying to catch my breath.

They walk into my room, mischievous smiles visible on their faces. It's them again. They never leave me alone and it was worse today, I was alone with no one to save me.

“You think you're special, huh?” A voice sneered, accompanied by a kick to the chest. I groan in pain, lifting my hand in defense. But before I can try to block them, a hand connects with my face, causing me to double over and crash further into the dresser.

“Please stop,” I beg, struggling to get to my feet. They laugh at my words and one of them cups my chin roughly. I winced in pain, trying to wiggle from him, but his grip is tight, his fingers sinking into my delicate skin.

“Look at this little fairy,” one of them mocks, grabbing my wig and yanking it off my head. “You really think you're a woman.”

The quintet of bullies erupt in another laughter, cruel and mocking.

“Leave now or I'll call the cops,” I struggled to say, despite the fact that I felt intimidated by them.

My heart dropped as I felt their tough hands tearing the fabric of my dress. I try to shout, but a hand goes over my mouth, muffling my screams to nothing. They are stronger than me and my tiny punches does little in helping me.

A heavy knock descends on my head and they throw me to the floor. I'm disheveled, parts of my cloth ripped from my body. I scramble on the floor, reaching for the torn pieces as tears threaten to fall from my eyes. I can't fight them. I've never tried to. All I can do is endure.

“Dance for us,” one of them jeers, interrupting my moment of self-pity. He shoves me forward with a kick from behind. “Do your little dance, princess.”

I try to get to my feet, but my knees buckle, weak from the harassment and insults. I feel the burning sting of tears at the corner of my eyes. I refused to let them fall. I won't give them the satisfaction they craved.

“Don't be stubborn. We said dance!” The tallest of them pulls me to my feet. My fists curled into balls at my sides and I clench my jaw. I want to punch them in the face, but I lack the guts to make the move.

They circle around me like vultures and I'm left helpless in their center.

“Leave me alone,” I manage to mutter. A hand slaps me hard across the face. I staggered backwards, clutching my burning cheeks with my palm. I tasted blood at the corner of my lips.

That was the height of it. I bit one of them, sinking my teeth into his flesh. He winced in pain, pushing me off his body. I fell to the ground and all five of them descended heavily on me, kicking slapping, punching.

“How dare you!” He spat, all of them battering me in my own room. My face reddened and I struggled to breath. There was no escape route from them.

The door opened quickly, causing the men to freeze. They exchange nervous glances, scurrying out of the room and leaving me alone with the intruder.

“Get up.” The intruder commanded. “Follow me.”