The Birthday Night

Sofia's POV 

I lay on my room's floor until I could feel my breath return to normal. Staring at the walls of my room, each tick of the clock drove a deeper wedge into my chest.

The thought of my father's cold eyes as he pronounced my fate in a millisecond.

Ring ring ring... The sudden ring of my alarm snapped me out of my reverie, breaking my thoughts.

"Party time," it read, forcing a tense smile on my face. I was supposed to go party tonight, to have the time of my life, I stilled as the creeping reality of what my future was to become dreaded me.

But I wasn't going to let that hold me back, if I was going to be tied to a man because of my father, the least I could do for myself was to give myself an escape for tonight. I had no thought of what my life was to become after I signed that marriage certificate and something was very sure— even if I ran to the depths of the earth, my father would find me.

I grabbed my jacket off the rack, throwing it on without a second thought. The burning need to get out of the house, to feel something other than the forceful life that had been thrown at me, leaving with me no choice.

"Miss Sofia," The maid at the door called as I stormed out of the room.

"What can I help you with?" I asked, folding my hands in front of my chest.

"Your father..." She stammered "What about him?" I cut in, walking intimidatingly closer to her.

"He said you were not allowed to leave the house," She said, almost breathlessly.

"That doesn't apply to me today, whenever he comes back from pawning me off, just tell him I went out," I said and turned to leave.

"But Miss Sofia," She called and grabbed my hands instinctively. I stared down at her hands on mine, my glares enough to burn her hands off mine.

"Get your hands off me," I warned. 

"I—am really sorry Miss Sofia, but..."

"No buts and ifs young lady, if your hands happen to touch mine again, I can't promise you'll live to see the light of tomorrow," I warned, deadpanned, watching in amusement the guards walk closer.

"Miss Sofia," The bulky one amongst them called, walking closer to me. "Please..."

"Say a word about me going back into that house and this might be the last job you get till you die," I said, stepping closer to him.

"But your father...."

"It seems you've lived your life to the brim, and I need to make one more thing clear, I am Sofia, the only daughter of the man who hired you, so I'm telling you now with the power I command, get out of my way or we put an end to this right here and now," I said, barely holding back the rage I'd been holding in the whole day.

He heaved a sigh before moving out of the way for me to pass.

"That's what I thought," I snapped as I walked to the car park.

Picking the most expensive and my father's favorite car, I drove out of the house into the cold streets. The cold air outside prickled my skin, making me shudder.

I wrapped my hands around myself, winding up the car window before driving off into the cold streets that led to the club.

When the neon glow of a club sign caught my eye, I swerved into the parking lot without a second thought.

Wrapping my jacket around me, I stepped into the club, my eyes catching the bar.

I walked closer, sitting on the stool at the far end of the bar. The bartender threw a glance at me before turning his attention back to a group of men ordering drinks.

"What'd you like to order ma'am?" He asked, walking closer to me.

"I want the strongest drink you've," I said and watched as he stared at me, leaning in closer to ask again.

"I'm not repeating myself, just so you know," I added, my voice was firm, leaving no room for small talk.

“Coming right up,” he replied, his tone indifferent.

I watched as he poured the liquid into a glass, his hands steady as he slid it toward me, I wrapped my fingers around it, relishing the coolness of the glass against my palm before taking a long sip.

The burn in my throat was sharp, but it was exactly what I needed. For the first time all day, I felt grounded. The chaos in my mind dulled just a little, the weight in my chest easing enough for me to breathe.

The music pulsed in the background, a steady rhythm that matched the pounding in my head. People danced, laughed, and shouted over the noise, their lives seemingly untouched by the kind of despair of having to be pimped by a man I knew nothing about.

I drained the glass and motioned for another. "Rough night?" a voice asked from beside me.

I turned my head, my eyes narrowing at the man who had taken the seat next to mine. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, his sharp features illuminated by the dim, colorful lights of the club, and his eyes were a silent symphony to the chaos in me.

"Rough life," I muttered, turning back to my drink as the bartender placed it in front of me.

He chuckled, the sound low and smooth. "A whiskey girl with a sharp tongue, a dangerous combination, got anyone to accompany you?" He asked.

"Not as dangerous as a stranger who doesn’t know how to mind his business," I shot back, my tone icy.

Instead of taking offense, he smirked, leaning against the bar. "Touché."

I ignored him, focusing on my drink instead. The warmth of the alcohol spread through my body, a temporary reprieve from the cold reality I had left behind.

But he wasn’t giving up

"Let me guess," he said, his tone light and teasing. "You're here to forget. Something about the way you walked in and headed straight for the bar was a clear indication that something was up," he pried again, leaning closer.