Chapter One

Present

I drag the mascara wand through my lashes one final time, ensuring the falsies melt seamlessly—all a part of the charade.

The dressing room door shook with the heavy heartbeat of the club, sensual music pulsating in the air like a hungry creature. Candy is wrapping up her performance, and the muffled applause of the crowd swells with starving excitement. She was only an appetizer.

The Rhino isn’t anything remarkable. It’s a stain like all these places— part of the dim and sticky underbelly of Pittsburgh. Soaked in the scent of desperation. There was one thing that set it a cut above the rest—me. I turned this forgotten hole in the wall into something new, and now men come crawling to see me preform.

I take a step back from the mirror, adjusting the straps of my costume: a sheer black mesh set winking with rhinestone flames. A gift from a regular, one who likes to pretend I burn for him. Pulling the last curler from my bleached-white hair, I rip a brush through the tangled strands with unsteady hands. My own pulse racing, anticipation filling every breath as I wait for Candy to come through those doors and tell me it’s time to serve the hungry beasts their main course.

Like clockwork, as soon as I finish smoothing my hair, she bursts into the dressing room glistening with a layer of sweat and an annoyed look on her face. “I swear to god, they get more handsy every day!” she yells, throwing herself down on the old sofa.

I give her a wry smile. “Did you at least get tipped well?”

She holds up her fanny pack full of ones. “Not nearly enough! This guy tried to stick a curled up one inside my vagina!”

“You’re messing with me! Did you tell Rick to kick him out?” I ask, grabbing my own fanny pack off the counter.

Candy shakes her head. “Can you? He’ll listen to you. If I tell him, he’ll tell me to suck it up!”

Nodding, I head out the door toward backstage. “Anything for you, babe.”

The hall toward the stage is dimly lit, all purple velvet and dark wood floors. As I head to the stairs that’ll lead me behind the curtain, I feel a strange prickling sensation on the back of my neck, as if someone is watching me.

It’s not new. For the last three years, I’ve had that same uneasy feeling. Like he’s here, watching me… Following my every move, but I know he’s not… And as I look over my shoulder, no one is there, like nobody’s ever there.

Three grueling years and you think I’d be less paranoid. But I can’t stop thinking about him; he’s on my mind constantly. His image and words are as real and fresh as they were… before.

But no matter how much time has passed, that nagging sensation he’s standing behind me persists. I’ll turn my head and feel a strange emptiness when no one is there.

I had to run… I had to… I couldn’t breathe any more, I wasn’t made to fit in with his life. It was obvious.

A strong hand grips my arm and pulls me up the stairs. I scream out, startled, as I look up into the eyes of Rick. “Pearl!” He drags me toward the stage. “Come on, you’re on!”

Trying to calm myself down, I place my hand over my heart in an attempt to slow its rapid beating. “Jesus, you scared me!”

“I’ve been calling you for like three minutes!” We stop before the heavy violet curtain separating us and the wolves. Rick fusses with the mic as he slips it over my head. “You look stunning tonight, Darling. You ready?” he asks.

Now would be the time that nerves would overpower me, but I can’t seem to feel anything, a numbness from being lost in the past. “Yeah… I’m ready–oh! Wait, apparently some guy touched Candy’s vagina, can you kick him out please?”

Rick pinches my chin. “Of course, Darling. Whatever my star wants—she gets. I’ll go talk to her.”

I kiss his cheek as the DJ announces my performance. “Thank you.”

He rushes off stage and I get into position as the curtain parts and the spotlight illuminates my practically naked form. Wolf whistles chime across the club as they take in my body.

The first notes of Fever by Peggy Lee begin to play. I curl my wrists in circles as I snap on beat. I waltz on stage, crossing my legs seductively as I walk to the pole at the end of the runaway. The room is dead quiet as they wait in blistering impatience for me to begin.

“Never know how much I love you…” I sing melodically, hooking my ankle around the pole and swinging my body in tantalizing slow rotations. “Never know how much I care…”

As I drop to the ground, I crawl toward the end of the stage, spiraling my hips in delicious circles as I raise my ass in the air.

I sling my legs forward and arch my back, flicking my hair behind me the same time the drum hits. Running my hands through my hair, I roll my body, flexing my hips forward on beat.

The song pours out of me, dripping from my tongue like honey as a room of men salivate for their meal. I run my hands up my breasts, squeezing them in invitation.

Climbing off stage, I strut around the room, collecting money as I sing to them… Making each patron feel special as if they were the man I was singing for.

I spot my regular, the one who bought me this outfit, and sashay my way toward him. I run my hands down his chest.

My nails drag down his thighs as he groans loudly, rolling his head back. I drop to my knees and push his legs apart, wiggling my way up his body as my breasts then stomach drag over his bulge.

Usually feeling the evidence of desire from the men I dance for makes my skin crawl, but I know he’s harmless… Another lonely soul like myself trying to feel something. He’s an older gentleman, and I was in no way attracted to him, but for the hundred-dollar tips he gives me, I find it easier to pretend…

My song goes on and I work the room, dancing in the laps of other men holding out that fun little green paper.

As it comes to a close, I climb back on stage and wave my arms behind me, snapping as I walk back toward the curtain. “What a lovely way to burn… What a lovely way to burn…”

The last notes hit, the crowd cheers, and the curtain closes.

I’m alone for a few blissful moments, adrenaline rushing through me, blocking out everything else. Nothing is important at this moment, I’m not even here…

“Pearl! That was wonderful! Marvelous!” Rick cheers from down the set of stairs, rudely pulling me from my reprieve.

I plaster on a smile and walk down the steps, kissing Rick on the cheek as I hand him a twenty. “Give this to the DJ for me?”

“Of course, Darling. You’ve got 10 minutes to clean up, then get on the floor. There’s already a bunch of men asking for you.” He smiles, smacking my ass as I walk around him.

“I’ll be right out.” My voice is lifeless as I head down the hall, back into the dressing room.

More girls had trickled back here during my performance. I give them each a meek wave as I head back to my station to mop up the sweat on my brow.

Blotting with a napkin, I glare at the reflection of the girl in the mirror. I’m dissociated from her; she’s unrecognizable.

Dante… His name echoes through me like a lost rib. I close my eyes and try to stop the invasion, but I don’t have any control over the darkness within me. The pain and the dread are the masters of my body. I’m exhausted.

I find it hard to sleep, because while I’m exhausted from the day, the night is a place where my worry festers until its time to wake and repeat.

Sometimes, I wonder if I’d be dead if I knew what happened after the dark consumed me. After the plug was pulled or the pills settled in my acidic stomach. Certainty of hell, certainty of an abyss, certainty that I wouldn’t suffer anymore. I’d kill myself in an instant.

I’m already killing myself… I think as I slowly open my eyes, taking in my ribs that stretch my skin in their obvious display. My teeth always burn a sour ache as I eat. My body is screaming at me for another meal, but I rarely give it. When I chew for too long my jaw starts to feel thick, the food accomeulating saliva in my cheek. It disgusts me so I stop. All the better to wither and die.

A gentle hand clasps my shoulder. “Pearl?” someone says softly.

I blink rapidly, coming back to reality, and look over at the woman standing next to me. Magnolia gives me a worried smile. “Are you okay? You’re shaking.”

I push off the counter and lose my footing with the sudden lightheaded sensation that washes over me. “I’m fine, really… just… tired is all.”

Magnolia frowns at me, not believing my lies. Candy leans over the counter. “You need a little pick me up?” she asks, with a mischievous grin.

“Yeah, what do you got?” I ask, pushing my damp hair from my forehead.

Candy rummages through her makeup bag and pulls out a small vile of coke. She unscrews the cap and scoops some up onto her long acrylic nail. She holds out her hand to me in offering. “Here you go, Baby girl.”

I grab her wrist and bring her nail to my nose, snorting the powder without a second’s hesitation. My tongue and throat go numb as it absorbs into my body, the effects instant as I get a second wind of energy and my brain shuts off as my dopamine levels rise.

My face cracks into a blissful smile, and with a quick thank you, I walk back out onto the floor and finish the rest of my shift.

***

The fall air is brisk, cutting through me even with the layers under my sweatshirt. Most women would be afraid to walk home alone at night, especially in a city, but I can’t find it in me to care… I used to care. I used to care about a lot of things.

Even when I first became a dancer at the Rhino, a year after I ran, I still had a small shred of hope left. I was convinced that people couldn’t be as horrible as I thought. I hoped to find community amongst the other outcasts… And I did to a certain extent; the other girls befriended me as much as they could even though I kept them at a distance. Like there’s an unspoken separation, a smoke screen between me and them.

I even hoped that the patrons of the club would be good people, people who valued me as a person more than an object. I was delusional. I probably still am.

I allow my body to be used. All those hands that I thought were friendly collided with my skin… The number of times I’ve been hurt by a client is too high to count. A premeditation on their part and I don’t say anything. I’ve proven to myself that all people are the same in the end. I’ll let you hurt me because I know deep down you want to, and you will. So, I’d rather it happen under my control.

The innocent girl suffering inside me wishes they would say no. Perhaps their thoughts would curdle at the thought of bruising my skin. A deep repulsion at orchestrating fear in the eyes of a troubled sinner. Can’t you see I don’t truly want it? Can’t you see I fake it?

I curl my hands into fists, the thrumming prick of half-moon nails against my palm. Pain, a warning to stop, my ancestors’ blood afraid of fire. I squeeze harder, it hurts worse, I take a deep breath. I squeeze harder. My mind wills me to stop, but I know it doesn’t matter; those boundaries can be broken if I just squeeze harder.

The back of my neck prickles and I release my hands. Instinctively, I look over my shoulder. There’s no one there, shocker, but for some reason the feeling doesn’t dissipate like it usually does. I still feel eyes on me from somewhere in the shadows. Squinting, I try to search corners and alleyways, but I see no one. The city is oddly quiet.

“Hello?” I call out into the night. My voice echoes in the vast emptiness. No response. I furrow my brow and lick my dry cracked lips, startled to taste a strong iron flavor.

“Shit!” Quickly, I wipe my nose off on the sleeve of my sweatshirt, leaving behind a fresh red streak. “Shit!”

I tilt my head back, keeping my nose elevated as it leaks. Did I overdo it tonight? Couldn’t have, I only did one bump… The horrible idea fills my head that perhaps the inside of my nose has started to erode.

I’ll switch back to pills while I let it heal.

My phone starts to ring, emitting a glowing blue light from my pocket. Begrudgingly, I dig around for it in my sweatpants and answer without checking the Caller ID.

“Hello?” I greet nasally.

“You sound stuffed up?” a man asks through the line.

Head canting to the side, I pull the phone away to spare a glance at the screen. Oh, great. “I’m fine, just got a nosebleed on my walk home.”

“Walking alone at night,” he chastises as a truck blares its horn from whatever pitstop he’s refueling at. “I get worried someone is gonna snatch you from the street.”

I laugh dryly. I should be worried about that too, especially because that sensation of being watched still hasn’t gone away. Maybe someone will come along to finally take the choice from my hands. It’ll be exactly what I deserve.

“It’s fine. You know I don’t like being told what to do.”

My boyfriend huffs at me disapprovingly. “I’m not telling you what to do, I’m expressing my opinion.”

“Yeah, I didn’t ask for that either,” I say dismissively as another gush of blood races down my lips. “Oh fuck, one second.”

Quickly, I put the phone on speaker and slip it into the front pocket of my sweatshirt.

“What’s going on?” His voice slightly muffled through the fabric.

I unzip my duffel bag full of dancing gear and pull out a tampon.

“Nose is still bleeding.” Shoving the tampon up my nose, I gingerly wipe the excess blood away on my sleeve and resume walking down the street.

“Can we talk about what I asked you last week?” His octave goes deeper as he becomes more serious.

Can we not?

“Listen. I’m just not ready, okay? Please don’t push this—”

“If you want to keep doing this, then you’re going to have to answer me eventually.”

The likelihood of that is fucking slim to fucking none. Of course, I don’t tell him that because I’ll let him believe whatever he wants.

“What’s the point? I don’t see why we have to change anything.”

“To start a life together,” he says humorlessly.

“Just leave it! I’m not ready and that’s that,” I yell angrily, feeling the last bits of my restraint snapping.

“Fine. I’ll call you tomorrow. Bye.” The call beeps its end.

“Jag-off hung up on me…” I whisper with a scowl as I round the corner, only a block away from my shit box apartment. I can feel the anger sizzling under my skin, begging for release.

Sometimes I get so angry my body starts to shiver. A gift inherited from my mother… I’ll try to hide it under layers of perfectly constructed facades. Each one labeled for easy viewing pleasure all the while I fantasize about what it’d feel like to cut open whoever pissed me off. Could I do it? Would it make me feel anything?

At the rate my life is going, I doubt anything could make me feel again.

The sound of shoes scraping against cement instantly knocks me out of my thoughts. My body jerks, everything tightening as the hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge. Slowly, I peek over my shoulder and there, sticking out of the shadows, is the toe of a polished black shoe.

I rub my eyes, not believing what I saw. My brain is still pumping with the effects of the coke. I could simply be hallucinating… Clearing my eyes, I squint and look again, but the shoe is gone and so is that overbearing sensation of being watched.

“I must have been seeing things…” I whisper, but in contradiction to my words, I walk home a little faster.

Next Chapter: Chapter Two: Five Years and Seven Months Ago