Ghost

He threw another punch.

Then another.

Bone cracked beneath his knuckles, the sharp sound echoing through the underground ring like music.

Sweet, violent music that settled something dark inside his chest.

The man staggered, barely able to stand, blood already pouring from his split lip. His swollen eyes struggled to stay open, his breath coming out in ragged gasps.

Ghost didn’t stop.

He drove his fist forward again, the impact snapping the man’s head to the side. A spray of blood scatters across the concrete floor.

The crowd surrounding the ring roared.

Men shouted.

Money exchanged hands.

Excitement filled the air.

But Ghost heard none of it.

All he heard was the rhythm of violence.

All he felt was the pressure building in his chest

Anger, betrayal and rage finally breaking loose.

He stepped forward and delivered a brutal kick straight into the man’s ribs.

A sickening crack followed.

The man collapsed instantly, coughing up blood.

Ghost stood over him, chest rising and falling slowly, his breathing controlled despite the violence he had just unleashed.

This was the underground world.

There were no rules here.

No mercy.

No justice.

Only power.

And tonight, power belonged to him.

He turned away from the ring without another glance, wiping the blood from his knuckles with the white cloth wrapped around his hand.

The fabric was already soaked red, but he cleaned himself carefully, as if the act itself brought him calm.

It had been a long time since he fought with his own hands.

Too long.

He had needed this.

Needed to feel bones breaking beneath his fists.

Needed to release the anger clawing at his insides.

Today, he had been betrayed.

Not by an enemy.

Not by a stranger.

But by one of his own men.

A man he had trusted.

A man he had called a friend.

For three years, that man had stolen from him.

Lied to him.

Used his trust like a weapon.

And he hadn’t known.

Because he trusted him.

He had been a fool.

“Sir, everything has been arranged.”

Sam’s voice floats through the noise behind him.

Ghost didn’t turn immediately. He continued unwrapping the cloth from his hand.

“Did they catch him?” he asked calmly.

“Yes, sir.”

Ghost nodded once.

“Good.”

Without another word, he walked toward the private corridor leading to the showers.

The sound of running water soon filled the tiled room. Steam rose into the air as he stepped beneath the water, letting it wash the blood from his skin.

The water turned lighter red as it flowed down the drain.

He stood there longer than necessary, staring at the wall in silence.

His expression never changed.

***

A minute later, he stepped out fully dressed, his suit perfectly tailored, his dark hair slicked back neatly.

There was no sign of the violence he had just committed.

He entered the elevator and pressed the button for the main floor.

The doors slid open.

Noise flooded his ears instantly.

Music was blasting….Coins clinking.

Machines rang…..Voices overlapped.

His casino was alive.

As always, people filled the massive floor, gamblers hunched over tables, dealers shuffling cards, women laughing, men shouting in excitement or frustration.

Morning….Afternoon….Midnight.

It didn’t matter.

They were always here.

Always ready to throw money into his pockets.

Always ready to lose everything.

Ghost walked through the crowd, his presence instantly changing the atmosphere.

Conversations lowered.

Laughter faded.

People stepped aside without being told.

“Oh, sir – I forgot to report something.”

Ghost didn’t slow his steps.

“What is it?”

Sam followed closely beside him as they moved toward another restricted area of the casino… a hidden corridor leading to the underground operations where the real business happened.

“Mr. Collins is offering his daughter for marriage to you,” Sam said carefully. “He is hoping his debt will be cleared.”

Ghost stopped walking.

Slowly, he turned his head.

“ Another marriage?” he repeated.

A faint smirk touched his lips.

“Why not just sell her?”

He already knew the answer.

To him, it was the same thing.

Marriage simply made it legal.

Marrying them meant ownership…. a clean record, no accusations of trafficking, no legal complications. Just contracts, signatures, and silence.

Most of the women working in his establishments had arrived that way.

Not bought.

Married.

Given to him in exchange for debts their families couldn’t pay.

It worked perfectly.

It was legal.

And the law allowed him to have as many wives as he wanted.

“Is she pretty?” he asked.

That was the only detail that mattered.

Sam pulled a photograph from his pocket and handed it to him.

“Her name is Emily,” he said. “She’s twenty-one.”

Ghost took the photo.

His eyes scanned the image.

A young woman stared back at him.

Soft features and wide eyes.

She looked too innocent.

Too fragile.

“She looks like someone who won't survive a day here ,” he said quietly.

He handed the picture back.

“Cancel it.”

His tone was final.

“Take men to Collins’s house tomorrow and collect my money. If he doesn’t pay– kill him.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sam remained silent for a moment, still staring at the photograph.

“You know, sir… looks can be deceiving,” he said slowly. “She is pretty. Very pretty.”

Ghost glanced sideways at him.

“What?” he asked.

A pause.

“You like her?”

Sam’s head snapped up immediately.

“I wouldn’t dare, Ghost.”

Ghost held his gaze for a second longer.

Then he looked back at the photograph still in Sam’s hand.

A long silence passed.

“Fine,” he said at last.

“Agree to the marriage.”

*****

They stepped into another elevator, descending to a different level of the building…… one designed to look legitimate.

Offices lined the hallway, paperwork stacked neatly on desks, employees typing quietly behind computers.

Everything appeared clean.

Professional.

Legal.

The moment Ghost stepped out, every worker stood up instantly.

Heads bowed.

Eyes lowered.

No one dared meet his gaze.

Fear filled the air like a scent.

Ghost walked past them without acknowledgment and headed straight for his office.

He stopped at the doorway.

John was kneeling in the center of the room.

Two men held him firmly in place.

His face was swollen beyond recognition. Blood covered his mouth, his nose and his clothes. One eye was completely shut.

Ghost walked forward slowly and sat down in his chair.

For a moment, he simply stared.

This used to be a man he trusted.

A man who laughed with him.

A man who shared drinks with him.

A man he called brother.

“How long?” Ghost asked.

John understood immediately.

“Three years,” he said hoarsely.

Ghost already knew.

He just wanted to hear him say it.

To confess it with his own mouth.

He studied John in silence.

A question lingered in his mind.

Why?

He paid him well.

Protected him.

Trusted him.

Why betray him?

“If you’re waiting for me to beg for my life, Ghost,” John said, breathing heavily, “I won’t.”

Ghost said nothing.

“I know nothing I say will save me,” John continued. “So why bother?”

A slow smirk formed on Ghost’s lips.

“Try me,” he said.

“Who knows.”

John laughed weakly.

“It’s impossible for you to feel pity,” he said. “You have no empathy…. No human emotion….. No conscience.”

Ghost hummed softly.

“They call you a devil,” John continued. “But you’re worse than the devil.”

Ghost tilted his head slightly.

“You sound like you hate me,” he said calmly.

John laughed again.

“Hate is an understatement,” he said. “You have no idea how much I detest you.”

“Can I ask why?” Ghost asked.

John sneered.

“I doubt you even care. You enjoy being hated. You twisted bastard.”

Ghost stared at him without blinking.

Then John’s voice broke.

“You knew I loved her,” he whispered.

“You knew I loved her, Ghost.”

His breathing turned uneven.

“And you sent her on that mission to die.”

Ghost frowned slightly.

“Can you be specific?” he asked.

John struggled violently against the men holding him.

“I’m talking about Aria, you monster!” he screamed.

A pause.

“Oh,” Ghost said.

Understanding flickered in his eyes.

“You loved her?”

John growled.

Ghost stood up slowly.

“Oh, Aria,” he said, stepping closer.

“I remember her.”

He bent down until their faces were level.

“I remember her sneaking into my room one night,” he continued calmly. “ I remember her begging to touch me to suck my dick. I remember her mouth on me. She begged me with tears in her eyes to fuck her”

His voice remained steady.

“I didn’t touch her though,” he added. “I couldn't put my dick into her knowing that's the hole you fuck every night”

“Liar!” John shouted.

“I did you a favor,” Ghost said quietly.

“She didn’t love you. She used you to get close to me.”

John’s body shook with rage.

“You sent her to die!”

“Her death was her own doing,” Ghost replied coldly.

Silence filled the room.

Tears rolled down John’s face.

“I hope you die a horrible death,” he whispered.

“I hope you love someone one day… and watch them die in front of you.”

Ghost chuckled.

“Well,” he said lightly, spreading his arms,

“I hope you stand up right now and fly.”

A few men forced nervous laughter.

Ghost leaned closer, smirking.

“See?” he said softly.

“It doesn’t work.”

His expression hardened.

“You said it yourself,” he continued.

“I have no human emotion.”

A flicker passed through his eyes.

A memory.

Blood on the floor.

A woman lying still.

His own reflection in the red pool of blood beneath her.

He was twelve years old.

And he was smiling.

Ghost blinked once.

The memory vanished.

“I couldn’t even love my own mother,” he said quietly.

John stared at him with disgust.

Ghost straightened his posture.

“You betrayed me because of a woman” he said

“A woman who used you…she didn't care about you at all”

He chuckled softly.

“How does that feel?”

John lowered his head.

Tears continued falling down his swollen face.

Regret filled his eyes.

But it was too late.

Everything was too late.

“Say hello to your bitch when you meet her,” Ghost said.

John suddenly lifted his head.

“You will die a horrible death, Damien Cross!”

The room went silent.

Completely still.

Every man froze.

No one moved.

No one breathed.

That name was forbidden.

Damien.

A name no one was allowed to speak.

A name buried in the past.

“That’s right,” John continued.

“That’s your name.”

The men around them looked down immediately, terrified.

Ghost leaned back in his chair.

“Congratulations,” he said calmly.

“You get to say my name to my face before you die.”

He waved his hand.

“Take him away.”

“You will die a horrible death, Damien!” John repeated.

“Wait,” Ghost said suddenly.

The men stopped.

Ghost tilted his head slightly.

“How many times did he steal and divert my containers?” he asked.

“Thirty-two times in three years,” Sam answered.

Ghost hummed softly, pretending to think.

Then he spoke.

“Shoot him thirty-two times,” he said calmly.

A pause.

“Make sure you count every shot out loud.”

Sam nodded.

Ghost accepted the cigarette Sam handed him, placing it between his lips. He lit it slowly, inhaled once, then bent down toward John.

Smoke drifted from his mouth.

He blew it directly into John’s face.

“I want to hear your voices,” he said smirking “Counting the gun shots “

“You’re a monster,” John screamed, blood and spit flying from his mouth.

Ghost reached into his pocket and pulled out his white handkerchief….the same ones he always carried.

Calmly, he wiped the blood from his face.

Then he dropped the cloth on the floor and stepped on it.

“Goodbye, John,” he said.

A slow smile spread across his lips.

“Say hello to my horrible father for me, will you?”

He smiled.

“Monster!”

Emily sat in the dark, cold room, her back pressed against the rough wall.

She felt nothing.

No anger.

No fear.

No tears.

Just a hollow silence inside her chest, as if her heart had given up beating long ago.

She had spent days in this room, days that blurred into one endless stretch of darkness.

This room was just like her bedroom. The only difference between her room and this punishment room is thin mattress on the floor and the window in her room

This was her punishment room.

A place meant to break her.

She had said yes to marrying Ghost.

She had given them exactly what they wanted.

And still, they locked her here.

Because they did not trust her, they did not believe her.

Her lips curved into a faint, bitter smile.

Was she walking to her death by marrying Ghost?

Maybe.

But Emily would rather die in the hands of a stranger than spend another day living under the cruelty of the monsters who killed her parents.

Her fingers curled slowly into fists.

She will live.

She will try.

She had been given a second chance…. a miracle she did not deserve, a life returned to her when death had already claimed her once.

Millions of people die every year without another chance to fix their mistakes.

She would not waste hers.

The sudden creak of the door shattered the silence.

Emily did not move.

The door swung open, and light spilled into the room, blinding her for a brief second. A familiar figure stepped inside.

Esther.

A woman she once saw as a second mother.

“I brought you food,” Esther said softly, holding a tray in both hands. A gentle smile rested on her lips, the same smile that used to comfort her on sleepless nights.

Emily stared at her.

That smile used to feel warm and safe.

Now it looks like poison.

“I’m not hungry,” she said flatly.

Esther frowned slightly, confusion flickering across her face.

“Honey, you have to eat something.”

Emily almost laughed.

The sound bubbled in her throat, dry and bitter.

There was a time when she would run into Esther’s arms after every punishment. When she would bury her face into her shoulder and cry until her chest ached.

Esther would hum softly, stroking her hair, whispering gentle prayers over her wounds.

She used to clean her cuts.

Dress her bruises.

Stay awake beside her when fever burned through her body.

Emily used to pray for her.

She used to thank God everyday for having her in her life.

She used to pray for protection for the woman who poisoned her parents for months.

A sad chuckle slipped past her lips before she could stop it. A single tear rolled down her cheek

She wiped it away immediately.

Esther lowered herself into a squat in front of her, just like she always did.

She looked like she cared.

She looked like she was hurting too.

Emily’s gaze dropped to Esther’s hands.

Those hands.

The same hands that once wiped her tears…

had mixed poison into her parents’ food.

For months.

Without mercy.

Emily inhaled sharply, her chest trembling.

She had been a fool all her life.

“Esther,” she called softly.

Esther looked up at her immediately.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

Emily’s voice came out quiet, almost gentle.

“Do you take care of me out of guilt?”

Esther froze.

Her eyes widened, panic flashing across her face. She shot to her feet so suddenly that her leg hit the tray. The metal clattered loudly as it crashed to the floor, food spilling everywhere.

She did not even notice.

“W-why would you say that?” she stammered, her voice shaking.

Emily watched her carefully.

That reaction was her answer.

A faint chuckle escaped her lips.

“Nothing,” she said calmly, wiping the last trace of tears from her face.

Before Esther could speak again, a harsh voice cut through the air.

“Okay, time to come out.”

Henry stood at the doorway, his tall frame blocking the light. His eyes flicked toward the mess on the floor, then back to Esther with open disgust.

“You useless woman,” he spat, pointing a finger at her. “Still sneaking food to her when we told you not to.”

Esther lowered her head immediately, shrinking under his glare.

Emily stared at both of them, her face blank.

Once, she would have felt sorry for Esther. She would have begged Henry not to punish her.

Not anymore.

She pushed herself to her feet slowly, ignoring the stiffness in her legs.

Without waiting to be dragged, she walked toward the door on her own.

___

They were already waiting for her in the living room.

Everyone was here.

Elena stood in the center of the room, holding a long white gown in her hands.

That must be her wedding gown.

Emily stopped a few feet away from them.

“You are really agreeing to marry Ghost?” Collins asked, his voice dripping with suspicion.

Emily lifted her gaze to meet his.

“Yes,” she said simply. “I want to.”

Joy snorted.

“Yeah, right,” she said, crossing her arms. “She must be planning something. Why would she agree so easily?”

Emily closed her eyes briefly, forcing her expression to soften.

“I’m not planning anything,” she said in a small, pitiful voice. “Mom… Dad… I just want to make you happy.”

The words tasted like poison in her mouth.

She wanted to scrub her tongue clean.

Wash her mouth with bleach.

Slowly, she watched their suspicion melt away, replaced by disgust

They saw her as a weak desperate pathetic weak fool that will do anything for their acceptance.

Exactly what she wanted.

Collins let out a satisfied laugh.

“This is good,” he said. “Very good. Marrying Ghost is not a death sentence. You could survive… if you manage to please him. If you win his favor, I will finally be proud of you.”

Emily lowered her head obediently.

“I’ll do everything I can, Dad.”

The lie came easily.

They all believed she had no chance of surviving in that dark world.

But Emily will survive.

No matter what it took.

She will endure.

She will learn and she will rise.

And one day, she would collect every drop of blood the Collins family owed her.

___

They dragged her into another room and forced the wedding gown over her body.

The fabric scratched against her skin as they pulled it down roughly.

The dress was ugly.

It was too big and too heavy.

It swallowed her whole, making her look smaller than she already was.

“Beautiful,” they said in unison.

Emily stared at her reflection in the mirror.

She looked like a ghost.

Not a bride.

The dress was wearing her instead of the other way around.

Her hands trembled slightly at her sides, but she kept her face blank.

Then they dragged her into yet another room.

Elena stepped forward, holding a banana in her hand.

Emily’s stomach twisted immediately.

“Pay attention,” Elena said sharply. “You might get the opportunity to see ghost. Make sure you cease it and make it memorable that he will remember you after that”

The room felt smaller.

Emily swallowed hard, forcing her expression to remain empty.

She obeyed every instruction on how to suck a dick.

Every command.

Her jaw ached.

Her throat burned.

Her dignity shattered piece by piece.

Joy entered shortly after, her eyes scanning her like she was nothing more than an object.

“Stand up,” Joy ordered.

Emily rose slowly.

“Walk.”

She walked.

“Slower.”

She slowed down.

“Move your hips.”

A sharp slap landed against her thigh.

Pain shot through her body, but she did not react.

“Smile.”

Another slap.

“Look seductive.”

Another.

The humiliation was endless.

They taught her how to sit.

How to stand.

How to breathe.

How to please a man.

Every mistake earned a slap.

Every hesitation earned an insult.

Emily gritted her teeth, swallowing the pain as it crawled under her skin.

They believed they were breaking her.

They had no idea they were forging something stronger.

They kept talking about sex.

Emily almost laughed.

They really believed she was a virgin.

Her mind drifted back to that fateful day.

The injured stranger.

The blood.

The desperation in his voice as he begged her to help him reach his car.

She had only wanted to save him.

Nothing more.

But one moment of weakness had stolen her innocence forever.

She remembered the confusion.

The fear.

The shock.

The way her body had betrayed her.

She wondered what these women would say if they knew.

If they discovered that the quiet, obedient girl standing before them had already lost her innocence in the backseat of a stranger’s car.

“It’s going to hurt at first,” Joy said casually. “But once your body adjusts, you’ll enjoy it.”

Emily stared at her silently.

“Sometimes it depends on the size,” Elena added with a smirk.

Emily looked at their shameless faces, disgust swell inside her chest.

“Did you even understand anything we just said?” Joy demanded.

Emily nodded slowly.

“Yes.”

Joy rolled her eyes.

“You know what? Live or die, I don’t care.”

She turned and walked out of the room.

Elena followed behind her without another word.

The door slammed shut.

Silence filled the space once more.

Emily stood there alone, her chest rising and falling slowly.

Then a very slow small cold smile appeared on her lips.

She would make them bleed.

She would take everything from them.

Everything they love.

Everything they cherished.

Everything they believed belonged to them.

She turned toward the window. All she can see is…

Freedom…..Power

All waiting on the other side.

All she has to do is survive

Tomorrow is her wedding.

To everyone else, she is walking to her death.

But to Emily…

She is walking to a new chapter of her life.

Six Months Ago.

Emily skipped lightly along the dusty road, the plastic bag swinging from her fingers as if it weighed nothing at all.

The afternoon sun shone warmly on her.

Henry had sent her to the store to buy a few things for him and his girlfriend, who had arrived unexpectedly that morning.

The woman had barely glanced at Emily before handing her the list.

Drugs.

Alcohol.

And…..

Emily scrunched her nose as she peeked into the bag.

Condom.

Her face twisted in disgust.

They were going to do that thing.

The thought made her blush, heat creeping up her cheeks. She shook her head quickly, trying to chase the image away, but a small, curious smile slipped on her lips anyway.

Emily was already twenty.

She would be twenty-one in a few months.

And she had never had a boyfriend.

Never been kissed.

Never held a man’s hand.

Sometimes, late at night, when the house was quiet and the pain in her body refused to let her sleep, she would imagine what love felt like.

She would imagine warm arms around her, gentle fingers brushing her hair, a soft voice whispering her name.

Maybe one day, she would fall in love too.

Maybe someone would look at her like she mattered.

Maybe someone would want her.

A sharp sting flared across her back, dragging her out of her thoughts. She winced slightly, her hand drifting to the tender skin beneath her dress.

The memory of the whip from the previous night burned fresh in her mind.

She had been late to cook dinner.

Just ten minutes late.

Her smile faded for a second, but she forced it back onto her face. Crying never helped. Complaining only made things worse.

So she skipped again, her steps light, pretending the pain did not exist.

Pretending she was normal.

Pretending she was free.

She turned down a narrow corner, choosing the shortcut that led behind the old buildings to her house.

A strange noise shattered the silence.

A low, strained groan.

Emily froze.

Her heart jumped violently inside her chest.

For a split second, instinct screamed at her to run.

She turned her head and saw a man leaning heavily against the wall, his body trembling as he struggled to stay standing. Red stains covered his shirt, spreading across the fabric like spilled ink.

Blood.

Emily’s breath caught in her throat.

Her feet moved backward automatically.

“Help me.”

She stopped and stared at the injured man.

“Help me”

“Hello, sir… are you okay?” she asked a very stupid obvious question, offcourse he wasn't okay, he was bleeding.

She was still very alert, ready to run at the slightest movement.

The man lifted his head.

Their eyes met.

Even through the fear, Emily noticed he was breathtaking.

Not in a soft way.

It was striking.

Sharp features.

Strong jawline.

Dark eyes that held power even in his weakness.

And then she saw the gun in his hand.

Her stomach dropped.

That should have made her run.

It should have sent her sprinting back home without looking back.

“Help me to my car,” the man said, his voice rough, strained with effort.

Emily hesitated, studying him carefully.

What if he is a serial killer….

what if he's not…..

He looked dangerous.

But he also needed help.

“I won't hurt you”

She still didn't move, even a serial killer would say that…..

What if she leaves and he dies.

“Please”

“Where is your car?” she asked.

A faint chuckle escaped his lips, surprising her.

“You really want to help me?” he said slowly. “Shouldn’t you be running home, little girl?”

Emily frowned, a spark of stubbornness lighting inside her chest.

“Do you want my help or not?”

The man stared at her.

As if he was trying to understand why she had not fled like everyone else would.

As if kindness confused him.

“What a weird person,” she muttered under her breath.

“Help me,” he whispered again.

So she did.

Emily slipped his arm over her shoulders, ignoring the metallic scent of blood that filled her nose.

He was heavy, far heavier than she expected.

“Left,” he instructed.

She followed.

They moved slowly down another street, one that led away from her home. Her heart pounded with every step, fear crawling along her spine, but she kept going.

Because leaving him felt wrong and helping him felt right.

“Tell me about yourself,” the man said.

That caught her off guard

“Why?” she finally let out.

“Because I’d like to know more about the stupid girl that saw all the danger around me and still decided to help me.”

Emily glared at him.

The man chuckled.

A deep chuckle that made Emily smile without meaning to.

She liked it.

“There’s nothing much to say about me,” Emily said.

“Apart from the fact that you’re stupid?” the man replied.

Emily glared again and let go of him.

The man winced, trying to stay on his feet.

Emily quickly helped him back when he almost lost his balance. She placed his arm over her shoulder again.

They started walking again.

“I should be thanking you.”

Emily said nothing.

“What’s your name?” the man asked.

“Emily,” she said.

They were walking farther and farther away from her home, but Emily didn’t seem to care.

“Emily,” the man said. “A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”

She felt her cheeks heat up.

She almost wanted to cover her face with her hands.

No one had ever called her that before.

Her family always called her ugly. Joy especially made sure to tell her no man would ever want her with her ugly face.

Emily felt a strange tingling feeling in her chest.

She had never seen herself as beautiful.

Never thought anyone would call her that.

She looked down as they kept walking.

“Do – do you think I’m beautiful?”

“I don’t think, I know. I’m drugged, not blind.”

Emily bit her lip.

He's drugged? With what? Will it kill him?

She has so many questions popping in her head

“Are you in a gang?” she asked, even though she knew she shouldn’t.

The man chuckled but didn’t respond, and Emily didn’t push it.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“You don’t want to know, Emily.”

Actually she would like to know but she doesn't push that either.

After almost thirty minutes, they spot a sleek black car.

Relief flooded through her.

Finally…

“Help me inside the back seat.”

She opened the door carefully and helped him slide into the seat.

He exhaled sharply, leaning back.

Emily stepped away immediately.

“Don’t go yet.”

His hand shot out suddenly, grabbing her wrist.

Before she could react, he pulled her inside the car.

Her body landed awkwardly against the seat, panic surged through her veins.

“What are you doing?”

“Have sex with me.”

She stared at him, completely frozen.

She must have heard wrong.

“Please,” the man said, looking like he was in pain.

Emily stared, her mouth almost hanging open.

Her face heats up.

Why would he just say it like that…

Isn't he like supposed to be dying?

“You can't just say it like “

“Like what?”

Emily presses her lips together.

“Aren’t you… dying?” she blurted out. “Is that like your dying wish?”

The man’s gaze darkened.

“I don’t know what I was drugged with,” he said hoarsely. “But if I don’t release this pressure now… I feel like I will explode.”

Emily blinked rapidly.

What?

Her mind struggled to catch up.

Do people really do that in real life?

Are there drugs that can only be cured with sex. She only sees these things in movies and fictional books.

He pulled at his shirt, exposing his chest.

Emily gasped and covered her eyes immediately, her heart hammering wildly.

She turned toward the door, desperate to escape.

But his hand blocked her.

“Leaving already?” he said quietly.

He sounded amused.

Was this guy messing with her?

Against her better judgment, Emily lowered her hands slightly.

Her gaze drifted over his body.

There was no wound.

No injury.

Just blood on his clothes.

“You’re not hurt?” she asked, confusion filling her voice.

He glanced down at himself briefly.

“No,” he said.

“That was not my blood.”

Silence filled the car.

Emily’s thoughts raced.

She should leave.

She should run.

She should scream.

But something inside her refused to move.

Maybe it was curiosity.

Maybe it was loneliness.

But she felt strange with this man.

She felt safe…..Seen…..Wanted.

It was the first time she has ever felt this way.

The first time she has ever been this close to a man.

So connected to a man.

The first time she felt an emotion that wasn’t pain or humiliation.

What if this was the first and last time someone would want her?

She swallowed hard.

She closed her eyes.

What the hell is she thinking?

She just met this man less than an hour ago

Why is she so pathetic?

Get out of the car right now.

But Emily didn’t move.

Her mind raced, filled with thoughts she should never be thinking.

“What man will want you with that face, Emily?”

Her sisters always said that.

They bragged about pleasure.

About desire.

About love.

About being wanted by different men.

The only thing Emily had to brag about were the number of bruises on her body… how long she could withstand pain… how many lashes of the whip she could survive… how long she could stay without eating.

Her gaze returned to the man’s face.

Will he date her after this?

She shook her head.

Then looked back at him.

He was incredibly handsome and strong.

And she…

Her face heats up again.

Maybe she liked him already.

Was it too fast?

“Do you have a phone?” the man’s voice broke through her thoughts.

Emily blinked.

“What?”

“Give me your phone.”

Her mom had broken her phone a month ago.

Then another thought ran through her head.

He wanted her number.

Was he going to take her on dates?

“If it’s my number you want, I don’t have a phone,” Emily said shyly.

The man snorted.

“I want to call for help. I can’t drive myself in this state.”

Emily felt a small sting of disappointment.

Then the man stared at her, his eyes barely open.

“Why don’t you have a phone?”

“It got broken,” she said quietly.

The man said nothing.

“Can you go get me a phone? I’ll pay–”

Emily hesitated.

She bit her lip.

Don’t say it, her rational mind begged.

“I can help you that way,” Emily said, feeling shame hugs her literally.

“What?” the man asked, genuinely confused.

Emily bit her lip again, no idea what has possessed her.

“You said… sex will help you feel better enough to drive and leave this place.” she stammers out

The man stared at her, a slow smirk forming on his lips.

“You want to?”

Emily nodded.

“Yes.”

The man stared at her.

Emily looked away.

“Will it hurt?” she whispered.

The man frowned deeply.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-one,” she said quickly.

He studied her carefully.

“You’ve never had sex?”

She shook her head shyly.

A heavy sigh escaped his chest.

“Get out.”

Her eyes widened.

“What?”

“Get out of the car kid”

Her chest tightened unexpectedly.

“I'm not a kid”

The man stares at her

“I…I want to,” she said quietly.

“I want to help.”

Was she begging?

Was this how starved she was for attention?

But what if no one will ever want her again.

The man stared at her for a long moment.

He looked like he was fighting an internal war.

Maybe he really didn't want to again.

She turns around to leave the car but the man stops her.

“Do you really want to?” the man asked staring down at her lips

Emily nods shyly, biting her lips….No idea what that action alone did to the stranger she just met.

“As you wish.”

Before she could react, he pulled her forward and crushed his lips against hers.

Emily forgot how to breathe.

She had no idea what to do.

But she liked the feeling of his lips on hers.

The man pulled away and stared at her, then chuckled softly.

“Breathe,” he told her.

Emily felt her face burn with embarrassment. She hadn’t even realized she was holding her breath.

“My name is Damien” He whispers on her lips, then he leaned forward and kissed her again.

Damien, her heart whispers

Her heart pounded wildly as confusion, fear, and strange warmth tangled together inside her chest.

She didn’t stop him.

Not when he began removing her clothes.

Not when her hands trembled as she tried to touch him too.

Not even when fear whispered inside her chest.

Because for the first time in her life…

Someone wanted her.

Someone touched her gently.

Someone looked at her like she mattered.

Even when he searched for a condom in the compartment of his car and couldn’t find one, Emily quickly spoke.

“I have one,” she said softly.

The man stared at her, raising a brow.

“My brother’s girlfriend sent me to get it,” she explained.

Her brother was going to kill her.

But Emily wasn’t thinking about that.

In fact, she wasn’t thinking at all.

“I’ll be gentle,” the man whispered against her lips.

And she believed him.

It was painful at first.

So painful she thought she might cry.

But then something changed.

The pain faded.

Warmth spreads through her body as the man pulls in and out of her.

A strange, overwhelming feeling she had never experienced before.

His hands on her body.

His lips on her nipples.

His breath in her ear.

It felt good.

So good.

Emily had never felt pleasure before.

Only pain.

Only fear.

Only loneliness.

So when pleasure finally came…

She held onto it desperately.

As if it might disappear.

She threw her head back, watching his face.

The pleasure in his expression was beautiful.

He liked it.

And that made her feel strangely happy.

Emily had no idea when she fell asleep.

But she woke up alone on the side of the street.

The bag she was holding earlier was lying by her side with a pile of money.

The car was gone.

Damien was gone.

The warmth from earlier had vanished.

Cold air wrapped around her body instead.

Regret drops heavily in her chest.

Not because she had done it.

But because he had left

He just left her? Did he hate her after?

She shook her head.

He did what everybody does to her.

Why was she expecting something different?

Her eyes stung.

Don’t cry.

She slowly stood up, brushing dust from her body. A single tear rolled down her cheek, but Emily wiped it away quickly.

She didn’t take the money.

Even if she took it, what would she tell her family if they saw it?

They will say she stole from them and that will make things worse for her.

Besides taking the money won't it automatically mean she sold herself for money?

She shook her head as she started walking.

What will she tell her brother and his girlfriend?

That night, when she got home, the whip that landed on her back didn’t hurt as much as the pain in her heart.

The pain of realizing that even when someone touched her…

They still didn’t stay.