Page 6 of Shattered Hope
“It’s very… kind of you… but I… I couldn’t…” I managed to say, trying to hide my reaction from the woman’s sharp look.
“You can get good money from it,” she insisted.
“Darla, can’t you see it? She’s too prudish. I’m sure she’s outraged you even suggested that” Darla’s friend said, oozing scorn.
“No… really, I don’t… it’s just that I can’t…” I tried to explain, my hands shaking visibly.
“Your face was bruised when you got here. Are you running away from a man?” Darla asked, quickly understanding what was going on. “Your husband, maybe?”
I gave her a sad smile but didn’t deny nor confirm it.
“I know it can be hard, but you have to see it as a business transaction. You used to do it for free. Where is the wrong to charge for it now? Think about it. It will get you enough to pay a few more nights in this dumpster, and it will buy you time to find something better,” Darla continued. “I’m sure you’ll do fine with your exotic almond-shaped green eyes and your golden skin,” she assured me. “Let me know if you change your mind. I’m sure my man can put you to work,” she concluded, handing her a small business card.
“Thank you, it’s very kind of you. I’ll take it into consideration,” I mumbled, putting the card away and praying I would never need to use it.
Back on the streets, I focused my attention on getting a job. If I had money assured, I would be able to pay for one more night at the motel. I would need a waitress job so that I could live on the tips until I got paid at the end of the month, but apparently, there weren’t any jobs available in the field.
The night caught me in the business district of the city. There were several diners, restaurants, delis, and bars around the area, but none looking for help. I had no idea what to do or where to go. The streets were practically empty, and the snow was starting to fall harder.
My life hadn’t been exactly easy that far, but that night, I hit rock bottom. I had no money, no job, no place to go, no food, and the snowfall was quickly turning into a storm.
Darla’s words kept swirling in my mind, but I still felt disgusted by the whole idea. Daniel had turned sex into an ugly thing, something he used to punish me whenever he thought I had done something wrong.
He took great pleasure putting me through the most degrading and humiliating situations, making me hate his very touch.
Allowing a stranger access to my body felt wrong, vilifying, and I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to do that again. Doing it for money was even worse. I do believe people have the right to do with their bodies what they see fit, but prostitution was terrible for most of the people involved. I always thought you had to reach a very high level of desperation to even consider going into that kind of lifestyle. I sincerely doubted people got pleasure from that kind of work.
But what did I know? Perhaps I was wrong… but it still didn’t feel like something I would jump into.
Unfortunately, I was rapidly reaching that level of desperation. What was I supposed to do?
I had no idea how the state of Washington handled prostitution, but it most certainly didn’t allow it, so perhaps, all I had to do was pretend I was looking for a client and get arrested. I would spend a few days in jail, and that would keep me off the streets for a while.
I couldn’t reveal my real identity to the cops, because that would bring Daniel to my door, but they wouldn’t have the means to find out who I was. My prints had never been registered, and I knew Daniel hadn't filed a missing person report when I left home. That could easily turn against him, and my husband was a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one.
The problem was if I got arrested, my prints would be on the system, even if not associated with my real name, and that could become a problem in the future.
Then again, if I didn’t get a warm place to spend the night soon enough, there wouldn’t be a future for me.
I was walking by a huge office building when the parking lot doors started to open. It gave me an idea, and before I gave it too much thought, I looked around looking for the security cameras and doing my best to avoid them, I slid into the parking lot and hid in a dark corner and waited to see why the doors had opened up.
Soon enough, a car drove in and parked a few yards from where she was hiding. It was an expensive black sports car, and a man got out.
I waited for him to leave the parking lot, but he didn’t. Instead, he stood next to his car, staring at his cell phone. He seemed to be chatting with someone, but I wasn’t close enough to hear what they were saying.
At some point, he looked straight to where I was, and I shuddered. Did the place have some sophisticated security system that alerted him of my presence? I had no idea, but I guess I was about to find out.
“Come on out. I know where you’re hiding. If you don’t come out by yourself, I’m calling the police,” the man announced in a loud tone, enough for me to hear it.
I had been caught. Resting my forehead on the column I had in front of me, I considered my options and concluded waiting for the police wouldn’t do me any good. The man probably wouldn’t press any charges against me, so the police would only escort me to the exit.
Slowly, I came out of my hideout and showed myself to the guy.
“You’re trespassing,” he accused me, in a cold tone.
“I know, and I’m sorry…” I mumbled, tucking my hair behind my ears.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, taking a few steps towards me, making me step back when I notice just how big and strong this man was.
