The price of survival

CHAPTER 2

CHLOE’S POV

My fingers lingered at the hem of my dress. For a minute, guilt washed over me again.Not loud  not dramatic.

Just quiet.

My heart felt heavy.

The kind that creeps in when the room gets silent.

My chest tightened, why was I hesitating?

Was I supposed to suffer day and night instead?

Was I supposed to sit back and wait for someone to save me?

I had no helpers.

No one  paying  my bills, no one checking if I ate. I was on my own.

Survival doesn’t come with pride,it comes with choices. And this was one of them.

“Come on,” he said impatiently. “Pull it off.”

He stepped closer, his eyes traveling slowly over my body like he was already unwrapping me.

His fingers reached for the strap of my dress.

“Nah, I can do it myself,” I said quickly, gently removing his hand.

He paused for a while,then his expression hardened.

“Then be fast about it.” His tone changed, it was sharper now.

“Why are  you acting sluggish like you’re doing me a favor?” he continued. “You don’t need the money?”

Before I could respond, he reached into his pocket and pulled out another bundle of cash.

Thicker than the first one.

He fanned it slightly in front of my face.

“Baby girl,” he murmured, stepping closer, “you and I both know this money will do a lot for you. And this isn’t even close to what I can give you.”

He lifted his hand and held my face between his fingers.

His grip was tight, not gentle  trying to force me to look at him.

I nodded slowly.

“Yeah… I know,” I said quietly. “I’m not doing it because I want to. I’m doing it because I have to.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

For a second, the smile disappeared from his face,just slightly.

Then it disappeared.

“You talk too much,” he muttered.

I turned away from him and finally slid the dress down my body.The air in the room felt colder against my skin.

I caught my reflection in the mirror across the room.

For a moment, I didn’t recognize the girl staring back at me.

She looked strong but tired.

A tear slipped down before I could stop it,I wiped it away quickly.

This wasn’t my first time.

But something about this felt different,maybe it was his age,maybe it was the way he looked at me.

He wasn’t desperate, he wasn’t drunk he was calm.

He was enough to be my father.

That thought made my stomach twist.

But the money sitting on the table made my thoughts quiet again.

He stepped behind me slowly, His hands settled on my waist.

“Turn around,” he said.

I did.

And in that moment,I stopped thinking.

Because thinking makes it harder.

He guided me back toward the couch, his hands firm on my waist.

He wasn’t rough, he wasn’t gentle either. He moved like he had done this a thousand times before.

His hands roamed slowly over my skin, caressing them without hesitation.

As he moved over me, I kept staring at the wall behind him refusing to look at his face.

My body responded because it had learned to, but emotionally I wasn’t there.

I didn’t kiss him back , I didn’t speak, I didn’t react.All that came out of me were silent tears.

They rolled down my cheek quietly ,one after the other.

He didn’t stop,he didn’t ask if I was okay,he didn’t seem to notice.

Or maybe he did and simply didn’t care.

His focus wasn’t on me It was on himself. It was on finishing what he paid for.

Minutes blurred together,the room felt cramped and suffocating.

When it was over, he stood up walked to the table and poured himself another drink.

Like nothing had happened,like I hadn’t just given him something.

I shifted to the edge of the bed and pulled the duvet over my body.

Suddenly I felt exposed, cold and vulnerable.

“You are different,” he said, licking his lips before taking another sip. “You’re just too sweet.”

I didn’t react, my head stayed down.

I was angry at my body ,but I forced myself to breathe.

“This is what we do to survive “

“it isn’t that deep.” I kept repeating it in my mind so I could forgive myself.

He laughed.

“Why you not talking, baby girl? Didn’t you enjoy it?”

I didn’t answer.

He stepped closer and held my face like he was about to kiss me again.

I turned slightly away.

His gaze moved slowly down my chest again like he was considering another round.

I immediately adjusted the duvet.

“I’m fine,” I said quietly, shifting farther to the side of the bed.

He watched me for a moment,then he stood up and smiled.

He walked to the table, opened a drawer and brought out bulky bundles of cash .

This looked more than before.

For a second, I just stared. Who is he planning on giving all this to?

This can’t be for me.

Since I started stripping, I had never seen this amount of money at once.

That kind of money would take me months to earn, Maybe longer.

I got lost in the thought of it.

This could clear my rent and tuition.

“Hm,” he cleared his throat.

Then he tossed the money gently onto the bed beside me.

“Have them.” Just like that,like it meant nothing.

He began putting on his jacket calmly.I didn’t want to look desperate.

But deep down, I was shaking. I had never touched this kind of money before.

“Love to see you some other time,” he said casually.

Then he pulled something from his pocket and tossed it onto the bed near me.

His identity card.

“In case you forget who I am.”

And just like that, he walked out, the door closed.

Silence.

For a moment, I didn’t move.

Then I stood slowly and walked toward the mirror.Tears slid down my cheeks again.

“Nah, I shouldn’t be doing this,” I whispered to myself.

I wiped them immediately because tears don’t fix anything.

I went back to the bed, and started counting.

“One,Two,Three,.Four,Five,Six,Seven,Eight, Nine, Ten.”

“Ten bundles!”

I counted again.

Still ten.

 “Oh my God”

I needed to tell someone, “Vanessa!”

I searched for my phone to call Vanessa.It wasn’t on the table,not my bag. Then I realized.

I had left it with Vanessa when I changed outfits earlier.

Of course,there was no way to reach her now. I packed the money carefully into my bag and zipped it shut.

Then I held it tightly against my chest as I stepped out of the room.

Not because I was afraid of bag snatchers,but because it felt like I was carrying something bigger than money.

Before leaving the building, I glanced down at the identity card.

“Sebastian Whitmore” That was the name printed on the card.

The name sounded expensive and powerful.

I slid the card into my bag.I had no idea that name would follow me into places I never expected.