Running Without Shoes

Anna’s Pov

The house was dark when I slipped out of my bedroom window at four thirty in the morning. My hands were shaking so bad I almost fell off the roof twice.

The grass was wet, cold, soaking through my sneakers but I didn't care. I was finally doing it. Nothing was going to stop me this time even if my parents caught me. I would keep running until my legs gave out.

I had spent two weeks planning every single detail. Camilla had given me the address, told me to meet her at six, said the owner's name was Jo. He was expecting me. He would give me a job.

I didn't let myself think about what kind of job it was. Thinking meant doubting meant staying meant dying.

The streets were empty except for a few cars. I kept my head down, walked fast. Every sound made me jump, every pair of headlights made my heart stop.

The club was in a part of town I had never been to. The buildings were old, some had broken windows, there were bars on the doors, graffiti on the walls. People sitting on stoops smoking, watching me walk by.

I found the address then stopped outside to stare. The building was painted black with a neon sign that said Velvet Nights except the V was burned out. It just said elvet Nights. Metal door, small window, red lights glowing inside.

Camilla opened the door before I could knock. She pulled me into a hug that smelled like vanilla perfume, cigarettes.

"You actually came," she said, squeezing me tight. "I was worried you'd back out."

"I almost did," I admitted before following her inside.

The club was bigger than I thought it would be. Main floor with a stage, a pole in the center, tables scattered around, a bar along the back wall. Everything was red. It looked like the inside of something dark, dangerous.

"Jo's in his office," Camilla said, grabbing my hand. "Come on."

We walked through a hallway with doors on both sides. Some were open. I could see small rooms with couches, dim lighting. My stomach turned over.

"What are those rooms for?" I asked even though I already knew the answer.

"Private dances," Camilla said like it was the most normal thing in the world. "That's where the real money is."

She knocked on a door at the end of the hall. A voice told us to come in. I followed her into an office that smelled like beer, cigarettes.

Jo was sitting behind a desk covered in papers, empty bottles. He was older than I expected with gray hair slicked back, a suit that looked expensive but wrinkled like he had been sleeping in it for days.

"This her?" he asked Camilla without looking at me.

"Yeah," Camilla said. "This is Anna."

Jo looked up. His eyes moved over me slowly from head to toe in a way that made my skin crawl but I stood still. I didn't let myself look away.

"You ever danced before?" he asked.

"Not like this," I said.

"You scared?"

"Yes."

He laughed. The sound was like gravel. "Good. Scared girls work harder. Camilla says you need money fast."

"Yes," I said again.

"Alright," he said, standing up. "Let me show you around. Camilla you can go."

Camilla squeezed my hand before she left. She whispered "You'll be fine" but I didn't feel fine. I felt like I might throw up all over Jo's expensive wrinkled suit.

Jo walked me back to the main floor. He started pointing at different areas, talking fast like he had given this tour a hundred times before.

"Stage is where you dance for everyone. You get tips. Twenty percent goes to the house. Rest is yours. Private rooms are for one on one dances. You negotiate your price. Fifty percent goes to the house."

"Fifty percent?" I repeated. That seemed like a lot.

"You got a problem with that?" he asked, turning to look at me. His eyes were cold, hard.

"No," I said quickly.

"Good," he said before keeping walking. "Rules are simple. No drugs. No stealing. No drama with the other girls. You show up on time, do what you're told. Break the rules, you're out. Understand?"

"Yes."

He showed me the dressing room where girls got ready. Mirrors with lights, racks of costumes, everything smelling like hairspray, cheap perfume.

"You need an outfit?" Jo asked.

"I don't have money," I admitted.

He sighed before walking to a rack. He pulled out a red dress that looked like it was made of nothing then tossed it to me.

"First one's free," he said. "After that you buy your own or wear the same thing every night. I don't care."

I held the dress to look at it. It was so small I didn't understand how it was supposed to cover anything important.

"Get changed," Jo said. "Shift starts in an hour. I want to see what you can do."

He left. I was alone to stare at myself in the mirror. I barely recognized the girl staring back with dark circles under her eyes, hair that needed washing, clothes that were wrinkled from being stuffed in a backpack.

I changed into the red dress. It fit but barely. It was tight, short. When I moved it rode up. I felt naked.

An hour later I was standing backstage waiting for my turn. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might explode out of my chest. The music was so loud it made everything vibrate.

I watched the girl before me finish her routine, collect her tips then Jo was calling my name.

"Anna. You're up."

I walked onto the stage. The lights hit me so hard I couldn't see past the first row of tables. The music started. I moved because moving was the only thing I knew how to do.

Dancing had always been my escape. Now it was my survival. I lost myself in the music, forgot about the men watching, forgot about my parents, the locked bedroom, the failed escape. For three minutes I was just a girl dancing.

When the song ended I collected my tips to walk offstage. Jo was waiting.

"Not bad," he said. "You'll do."

I should have felt relieved but all I felt was empty. I looked around the club at the red lights, the men drinking, the girls in tiny outfits. Reality hit me hard.

I had escaped one cage only to realize I'd stepped into another.