2

Three days had passed since Celia Winters got out of prison.

Three days in which she had only slept for sporadic hours inside a damp room she rented for a cheap price in one of the poor neighborhoods. The room was no more than a few meters, in the middle of it a broken window through which cold air entered, and an old iron bed whose springs creaked with every movement.

But she didn't care.

Because all that occupied her was that number the nurse had told her.

The cost of the operation.

Every time she closed her eyes, she remembered the doctor's voice saying that any delay could threaten her mother's life.

She sat in front of the small wooden table, looking at a paper on which she had written all the jobs she had asked about.

Rejected.

Rejected.

Rejected.

Every time she filled out a job application, the same question came:

"Do you have any criminal record?"

Her fingers trembled.

If she lied, they would discover the truth.

And if she confessed...

The interview would end at that same moment.

And in one company, the employee didn't even wait for her to finish speaking.

She said with contempt:

"We don't hire ex-convicts."

And closed the file in her face.

She walked out in silence.

She no longer cried as she used to do before.

Tears had become a luxury she could not afford.

She stood in front of the hospital in the afternoon.

She bought some cheap fruit for her mother, then went up to her room.

As soon as she opened the door, a bright smile appeared on her mother's face.

"I missed you so much."

Celia threw herself into her arms, trying to stifle her sob.

Her mother's body had become extremely thin, and her face painfully pale.

But she was still smiling...

Always smiling.

Her mother said while stroking her hair:

"Are the exams over?"

Celia nodded quickly.

"Yes."

"Did you eat well?"

"Yes."

"Are you still playing the piano?"

She froze.

Her voice choked.

"No... I don't have time anymore."

Her mother smiled tenderly.

"It's okay... when I get better we will buy you a new piano."

Her smile broke.

How could she tell her...

That she could no longer even hold a pen without her hand trembling?

On her way out, the doctor stopped her.

He said calmly:

"I don't want to pressure you, but your mother's condition can no longer bear waiting."

She lowered her head.

"I know."

"If the operation is not done soon..."

He didn't finish his sentence.

He didn't need to.

She understood everything.

She left the hospital feeling that the world was collapsing over her shoulders.

By evening, she was walking aimlessly.

And suddenly...

Her eyes fell on a large illuminated advertisement.

"Wanted: waitresses to work in a karaoke lounge."

"High salary."

"Includes accommodation and food."

She stopped.

She knew the reputation of these places.

But she no longer had the luxury of choice.

She clenched her fist.

Then she went in.

The lounge manager received her with a business-like smile.

She examined her from head to toe.

"Do you have experience?"

She shook her head no.

"But I learn quickly."

The manager sighed.

"The salary is good because the work is tiring. Your job is only to serve drinks. No making trouble with customers."

She nodded quickly.

She didn't even ask about the salary.

All she wanted was work.

That night, Celia wore the work uniform.

It was modest compared to the rest of the waitresses, so she felt somewhat relieved.

She carried the tray in her hands.

But...

Her fingers trembled.

The cups almost fell.

She remembered the guard hitting her hand with an iron rod whenever she slowed down in writing.

Her whole body trembled.

She breathed deeply.

"Calm down..."

She whispered to herself.

"You got out of prison."

But her heart didn't believe it.

After a few hours, the manager approached her.

"Room number eight."

He handed her the drink bottles.

"Important guests... Don't make any mistake."

She bowed respectfully.

And walked towards the room.

Each step was heavier than the last.

She stood in front of the door.

She knocked gently.

Then she entered.

At that same moment...

The blood froze in her veins.

Junior Hamilton was sitting in the middle of the room in all his prestige, surrounded by a number of businessmen and his friends.

His luxurious black suit.

His shiny watch.

And his cold look that had not changed for three years.

The tray fell from her hand.

The glass hit the floor.

Silence prevailed.

Junior slowly raised his head.

He looked at her for moments.

He didn't recognize her at first.

For the lively, full-of-life girl he knew had disappeared.

As for his friend sitting next to him, his eyes suddenly widened.

Then he laughed out loud.

"Oh my God... Isn't this the girl who went to prison?"

Everyone turned to her.

She felt as if dozens of eyes were piercing her body.

Her head lowered automatically.

Her breathing began to accelerate.

Everything came back to her...

The sound of the cell door.

The screams of the female prisoners.

The footsteps of the guards.

Their orders.

Their beatings.

The man said sarcastically:

"Didn't you learn your lesson yet?"

At that moment...

Junior Hamilton finally recognized her.

He narrowed his eyes.

"You..."

Silence prevailed.

Then he smiled with cold sarcasm.

"So you finally got out."

She couldn't look at him.

She was trembling violently.

He said while watching her miserable appearance:

"It seems prison didn't change you much."

Then he looked at the waitress uniform she was wearing.

"Or did you find a new way to seduce men?"

She felt as if the words slapped her.

But she didn't defend herself.

Instead, something no one expected happened.

She put the tray aside...

Then she fell to her knees in front of him.

Her head bowed until it almost touched the ground.

And she said in a trembling voice mixed with crying:

"I'm... I'm sorry..."

"I won't appear in front of you again."

"Please... don't be angry."

"I will never come near you."

A heavy silence prevailed inside the room.

The men's smiles disappeared.

Even the music coming from outside seemed distant.

As for Junior...

He just looked at her in silence.

He remembered well that girl who used to chase him with her smile at high-society parties.

As for the woman kneeling in front of him now...

He saw nothing in her eyes but fear.

Real fear...

That cannot be faked.