Sold to the shadows

The heavy leather strap cut through the air, hitting my back with a sickening crack that made my vision turn pure white.

I fell to my knees on the cold floor, screaming as the metal buckle tore into my shoulders. Pain bloomed across my soft skin, sharp and blinding.

"You selfish, useless fat pig" Father yelled, bringing the belt down on my thighs again and again. "You think you are better than us? You think you get to go off to college while we starve?"

"Father, please" I sobbed, shielding my head with my arms as the leather bit into my back. "Stop! Please"

"You are going to that club," he snarled, grabbing my hair and dragging me across the floor toward the small utility room under the stairs. "You are worthless anyway. Nobody else would ever want a girl built like a house"

He shoved me inside the dark room, slamming the heavy wooden door shut. The lock clicked loudly from the outside.

"Stay in there and think about what you owe this family," Father spat through the wood.

I curled into a tight ball on the dusty floor, my whole body shaking violently as hot tears streamed down my face. My back felt like it was on fire. Every breath I took sent a sharp wave of agony through my ribs. I pulled up the hem of my shirt in the dim light creeping under the door. Deep, swollen purple welts were already rising across my pale skin.

For two days, I was trapped in that dark closet. No food, no water

On the evening of the second day, the key finally turned in the lock. The door swung open, revealing my father standing there with his bandaged hand tucked into his pocket.

"Get up," he ordered coldly. "They are on their way."

I slowly pushed myself up against the wall, my legs trembling beneath my weight. I had not eaten a single crumb in forty eight hours. My stomach was a hollow, aching void, and my head spun with dizziness.

"Look at you," Father sneered, eyeing my body with total disgust. "Still as heavy as ever. I kept you without food for two days hoping you would lose some weight, but you still look like a whale."

I clutched my bruised arms, keeping my head down, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry again.

"Chloe is upstairs dressing for a dinner date with a wealthy family," Father added, a proud smile touching his lips. "I am finding her a proper husband. Someone with real money. Unlike you, she actually has a future."

"She built that future on my blood," I whispered, my voice raspy and broken.

Father slapped my face so hard my jaw cracked. "Keep your mouth shut The men are here. Move"

He grabbed my bruised wrist, dragging me out into the small living room.

Two broad men in heavy black leather jackets stood near the front door. They looked at me, then looked at each other with raised eyebrows and deep scowls on their faces.

"Is this a joke, George?" the taller man asked, his voice rough like gravel. "We came for a girl to work the floor at The Velvet Lounge. This girl is fat"

"She is strong," Father lied quickly, stepping forward with a nervous, sweaty smile. "She can work long shifts. She does whatever she is told. Just take her shes good, she'll clear my interest for this month"

The taller man stepped close to me, reaching out a heavy hand to grab my chin, forcing my head up. He looked down at my full chest, my wide hips, and the dark purple bruises visible on my collarbone.

"She is completely out of shape," the man muttered, spitting on the floor. "Boss Lorenzo usually likes them slim and sleek. But I suppose we can put her in the back room or make her host the side lounge. The club is short on hands tonight anyway."

"Take her, take her," Father pleaded, pushing me toward them. "She is yours."

Without another word, the man shoved me out the front door into the rain. I did not look back at my father. I did not look up at the second floor window where I knew Chloe was watching.

They threw me into the back seat of a dark sedan. The car ride was completely silent, the city lights blurring through the rain slicked windows as we drove deeper into the high end district.

Twenty minutes later, the car pulled into a private underground garage beneath a massive, glowing building. Neon pink and purple lights painted the concrete walls, spelling out the words THE VELVET LOUNGE in tall script.

The guard dragged me out of the car and shoved me down a carpeted hallway, stopping in front of a small dressing room filled with long racks of clothes.

"You have thirty minutes to get ready," a sharp voice called out from the shadows.

A tall woman with slicked black hair and dark red lipstick stepped into the light, holding a tiny bundle of fabric in her hands. She tossed the clothes onto my lap.

"Your first night determines whether you stay alive in this house," the woman said, leaning in close, her cold eyes scanning my face. "The men who walk through those doors are high ranking mobsters, corrupt politicians, and killers. They are not nice. If you displease them, you vanish, and nobody comes looking."

"I... I don't..." I whispered, holding the small fabric against my chest. "I cannot do this."

"You belong to Boss Lorenzo now," she snapped. "Put the outfit on and get out to the lounge, or I will have the guards throw you into the alley for the dogs."

She turned and slammed the door shut, leaving me alone in front of a giant wall mirror.

My hands shook as I unfolded the clothes. It was barely anything at all. Just two thin black strings designed to tie around my neck and hips, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

I stripped out of my dirty clothes, my stomach dropping into a bottomless pit as I looked at my reflection.

The dark purple and blue bruises from my father's belt covered my soft shoulders, back, and thighs. My body was plush, full, and plump, completely filling the tiny straps of fabric that stretched tightly over my wide hips and heavy chest. I looked exposed, raw, and completely defenseless.

An hour later, I stepped out of the dressing room, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I pulled my long hair over my shoulders, trying to hide the bruises on my neck, hoping desperately that I could just blend into the dim purple lights of the club and stay unnoticed.