I didn't know where to find love, so I looked for it in a bottle of Vodka.

knock,

knock

pound

knock

"Scarlett! Hurry up and get your sexy ass out of the bathroom, you're coming either way. There's no escaping it." Lindsay screamed at me as she viscously assaulted the door which I gracefully and thankfully locked.

If I didn't then that Insane thing I call my friend ,would be all over me.

"Coming." my words regretful, hands abroad and nervous as I click the lock to the side and turned the grey nob door handle sideways

It quickly opened, as I stepped out of my little safe place and into the light of there never changing opinionative gazes.

"Per..fucking..fection"Jarred anointed making me do a spin to get a full view of my little black dress, a flimsy piece of fabric that clung close to my body.

By flimsy I mean I looked like a stripper.

The dress, although looked presumptuous on me was not a hideous dress. But it wasn't even mine, good thing. If it was It would have been in the garbage shoot a long time ago.

The tight dress restricting my movement and giving me a fear that if I move too much I will rip the seams. It was so tight that if I did the splits not only would I rip my asshole but the dress would completely split in half.

"I can barely even breathe." My words choke and my two friends just laugh and continue to try on dresses in Lindsay's case and pants and shirts in Jarred's case.

"It's all about the cause, you look like a slut and guys want that" Lindsay smiled looking at me as she slipped on a LOWCUT dress, her boobs almost going flying. The only reason I Even know Lindsay is she was my collage roommate; before I dropped out and she got kicked out for sleeping with teachers. She was how do I say this nicely; a whore.

I mean she was...okay sometimes, but her confidence was sky high and she found way to much pleasure in contouring her boobs that I didn't even wanna try to tell her they looked like a makeup truck crashed into a flat wall.

"woman are not just...sexdolls." I dared to say, which only caused her to laugh.

"Well you definitely should be." Her laugh echoing around the room. "With All your self proclaimed virginity, it is really staring to piss me off, plus it scares away men. Like we get it Scarlett Jesus." Lindsay smiled as she said those words, yet they were so full of toxicity, not even the brightest of smiles could have covered it. "No one will want to fuck you, let alone be with you if you are so..." she cut off her words to look me up and down.

"...you," She smirked, like the most venomous of snakes.

But I guess that was the difference between me and Lindsay. I won't silence myself, or change myself, for a man.

Jarred was a whole different story. He was that overly “nice” gay guy who’d give you his car if you needed it. But his bag list—as he liked to call it—was probably longer than the Scroll of Destiny.

Not that he flaunted it. He just existed.

 

Way too attached to Lindsay.

 

So much so that he couldn’t even see how she basically dragged him around by a collar and leash. That sounds kinky, but trust me—if you saw them together, you’d quite literally gag.

 

But me?

 

I was the… how would you say it… extra.

Yeah, the extra friend in this three-part “friendship.”

 

Jarred was Lindsay’s loyal gay best friend.

And I was just the spare piece.

 

The Walmart to their Gucci.

 

Which, honestly, I was fine with. I didn’t love their company, but it was better than dying of boredom or drinking myself into oblivion alone at home.

And once I start drinking... it’s hard to stop.

 

I don’t like being alone. I knew these two wouldn’t put up with me if I was truly myself, so I kept the curses and comebacks in my head where they belonged.

 

But that didn’t mean they weren’t loud, annoying, boy-crazy little shits.

 

I hated men. Useless. All they ever wanted from me was sex.

And sex is the one thing I’ve never wanted from them.

 

Penis enters vagina. Feels like shooting stars. Blah, blah, blah.

 

"Can we go now?" I muttered with a hint of attitude, sticking to my spicy self.

 

Lindsay rolled her eyes as she stood up. She glanced at herself in the mirror, reached into her bra, and adjusted her boobs like they were on a rollercoaster.

Her tits looked like they were about to burst.

 

She strutted to her fake Gucci purse, dug around, and flashed me an innocent smile as she pulled out lipstick, lining her perfect bow-shaped lips.

 

"You're the DD!" she screamed suddenly, grabbing Jarred’s hand and bolting toward the car parked in her ridiculously long driveway.

 

Did I mention Lindsay was rich?

Like, crazy rich.

Daddy’s money kind of rich.

 

And yet... she still rocked counterfeit brands. Probably because she buys and resells them for way more. But hey—maybe I’m wrong.

 

Sighing, I gripped the car keys.

 

Designated driver. Again.

Fucking whores.

 

The drive was short, loud, and painfully annoying. Filled with screams about how we were going to get drunk, fucked, and party until our asses fell off.

 

“No. Just you guys,” I wanted to say. But I didn’t.

 

The club—Club Minxs—was the biggest in New York. Anyone who was anyone had been there at least once.

 

The pulsing music hit like a wave the second we stepped inside.

Security didn’t even bother checking IDs—just our bodies.

 

“Sexual pigs,” I muttered under my breath.

 

Before I could even blink, I was being dragged to the bar—only to be instantly abandoned.

 

Alone.

 

In a loud, crowded social hell I didn’t ask for.

 

Regret settled in faster than the overpriced vodka.

 

 

 

 

 

"Aye sweety what will it be?" a bartender ask, leaning over the counter. Green Hair shaved on both sides as tattoos covered everywhere I could see.

"Um, just a coke, please. I'm a recovering alcoholic"

He laughed at my answer making me feel even worse and uncomfortable. "You the D driver? if you are, aye baby that sucks"the man cracks sliding the drink down to me, my hand catching it. But what he doesn't know is that I actually am an alcoholic

Surprise bitch

"Yeah My friends they ditched me and so now I'm just..."I say glad that I got someone to talk to

"Yah yah ok I got to go but if you want to fuck tonight, my shift is out at 3" he interrupts, giving me a nod of his head before sliding down to a group of attractive woman waiting to be served.

"Just great,"I say tapping my nails on the flat surface, stray pieces of my black hair falling into my eyes as my head is down. "You'd have a lot more fun here if you weren't alone" a voice came from beside me and I looked over, a man early thirties, thick blond hair and tattoos of plenty. Does everyone have tattoos here like Jesus.

"Excuse me?"I say and he smiles "a pretty girl like you...shouldn't be alone."

Taking a sip from my drink I smile Sarcastically . "I'm quite alright thanks."

"No way I'm letting your beauty go to waste tonight" he smiled as I stared at him, his hand sliding down to my ass grabbing it.

"What the fuck do you...."I yelled but my head started to spin, and he covered my mouth quickly. My nerves on fire I bite his hand, and taking my knee and hitting him where the sun doesn't shine. Scared and panicked, my breath racing. My head flashing with exhaustion.

using my eyes scanning the crowd to find the two people I had entered the establishment with.

"We need to l-leave." I say in a stutter grabbing their shoulders and turning them to face me. Their faces held distaste and anger. "A man he...he was touching me and I—"

"Oh come on, you are practically begging for attention in that dress." She scoffed, and Jerred laughed.

The dress you told me to wear?

"Can we just leave?" I repeated. "Something doesn't feel right, I think that man was..."

"You are probably just imaging it, have you been drinking? God knows you love to do that." Her words pierced that armour shield I had.

She knew how hard it was for me to quit drinking.

I couldn't think, and I went to open my mouth—but her words cut me off. "We aren't leaving bitch. You are such a fucking pussy Scarlett. Such a god damn thorn in my side. Deal with whatever issues you have yourself. Im done playing as your mommy" Lindsay growls as I look over at Jarred who has the same emotion as hers plastered on his dumb face.

"Fuck you two"I growl turning on my heels, and exiting the club. Stumbling around on my feet.

I should have seen this coming, how could I have been so stupid.

Oh...I was drugged, with what I don't know.The neon lights of the sign fading into the distance, but they were still so bright as everything around me was on fire. Every light I past was blurry and ten times brighter then normal.

I practically stumbled my way to the car, terrified.

My arms wrapped around my body as the chilled wind rushes over me the cool January temperatures chilled and dry. My feet tripping all over themselves.

"Shit"my words loud as I grip at my hair. I could feel my body wanting sleep, throwing open the door I put the keys in the engine.

My body shaking as I reverse, and pull out onto the roadway. I was in no way, in driving condition, but fear had taken over ever part of me.

But it was when I felt the cold barrel of a gun on the back of my head that really scared me. I felt breathing on the back of my neck, unfamiliar.

"Pull off under the overpass." He said, his voice laced with evil.

"wha-what?," I stutter as I gripped the steering wheel harder. Looking into the drivers mirror I tried my best to get a description of the man; just in case I fucking die.

Black haired man, shades covering his eyes and tattoos sprouting from the collar of his shirt. It looked like the butt of a sword.

"A-are you going to kill me?" I asked. I have heard of these stories before, I was so stupid to leave the car unlocked.

"Pull. Off." He growled, as he pushed the gun into the back of my skull.

So I pulled off, turning and stopping and for a brief moment he took away the gun. So I used this, and quickly threw open the door and turned on my heels and I ran, I ran as fast as I think I have ever before. This isn't how I was going out. But my body couldn't resist the drug in my system.

What I failed to see was the second man, waiting for me in the darkness. My cars headlights blinding me just as I run into the second man's chest.

Both of their eyes on me as they laughed as the drugs started to collapse me.

The world a blurry mess, as I fought to keep my eyes open.

"She's a pretty one, but she won't last a second-" and that was the last thing I heard before my world faded to black and I felt myself getting dragged back to my car and my body being lifted and tossed into the back.

1345...

1346...

1347...

The seconds fall past me, as I sit there. The darkness closing me closer into the cage.

"So you are new to this?" a raspy voice as well as the clang of bar's catches my attention.

"Uh y-yah, y-you"I stutter nervously as I talk to the voice.

Come on Scarlett you're braver than this.

"No, I've been sold a few times. Always given back" the woman gapped making my heart drop. A couple of times.

I'm fucking DED, D-E-D, DED,

She then asked "What's your name?"

"Scarlett, yours?"

"Madeline" she answered and a brief silence landed between us.

I wonder if anyone's looking for me.

She broke the silence to say "How did they catch a pretty one like you?" Madeline chuckled, not a real laugh but the fake one that's from the voice of someone who's seen a lot of bad things

"I think I was drugged, they got me in the car"I muster and she reached through the bars to grab my hand, my instinct to pull away

"that's likely. They got me the same way" she whispered but then looked around "look I have been here a long time and have seen a lot of pretty woman come and go. But I can tell you now that this is going to be really bad for you." She said in a hushed voice

"What are you..." I try but she continues.

Her grip tightened around my wrist as she continued, her words scaring me "whatever they do to you, do not fight it. It worse if you fight it."

"Ok "I nod ripping at my hand. "Don't run, because they will find you. And the punishments for running are worse then a nightmare..." her words come to a stop as a man walks by our cages her eyes darting away from me until he's out of sight.

"Lastly Don't let him win...Don't let him break you cause then..you will lose yourself." her words running through my head.

Her blond hair cut short, to the length that's just past her shoulders, the age on her skin proving her age to be older then me. "why are you telling me this?" I asked and she shot me a look.

"Because you seem like the kind of girl I would have wanted to get to know. I have seen some pretty girls have terrible things done to them"

"What kind of things?"

she looked me in my eyes, and her eyes looked so dead I shivered. "let's just say disobey you die, run you die, let him win you die."

I nodded, "die, but why would-"

But she interrupted me again "The last man who bought me bought another girl too, she was like you full of spirt and questions. She resisted, ran and talked back. And two days later her body was found in the river, raped and dismembered so bad you couldn't even tell it was her. But I knew it was."

and that shut me up, and I hugged my knees to my chest.

As far as I could see there was about 18 cells each filled with someone, cries echoing and scream emulate through the walls like sirens.

"Remember those and maybe, just maybe you'll make it" she whispered before the lights turned on screams becoming 10 times louder and my heart thudding In my ear hit that much harder.

Water, quickly sprayed onto us, cold freezing water showered down at me as I scream putting my hands in front of my face.

"Everyone strip and clean yourselves now!" an older man's voice hollered around the block, the people quickly removing their clothes.

don't fight it, be smart.

With shaky hands I drew off the strap of the short dress, making it fall to the wet floor, my lacy underwear falling shortly after.

The stream washing over my black hair, the water then continuing down my back and legs.

"Times up princess'. You will now be assessed based on looks and health. If you don't make the cut, sad to say you don't make life" a nicely dress man laughs , hair back into a tight bun while his pervert creep eyes looked over each and every one of us , gaping at our bodies.

He was young, brown hair, and brown eyes. But he looked monstrous.

Eyes Stopping at me.

“You.” He smiles, pointing his finger directly at me and gesturing for me to come closer.

A man in a beige suit—the kind your friendly janitor might wear, though there’s nothing friendly about him—unlocks the door.

All eyes are on me as I step out.

Whistles echo through the room, guards leering openly as their attention locks on me.

 

Would you like a version with a little more fear, sass, or inner thoughts added?

 

Here’s a revised version of your scene with clean grammar, improved rhythm, and your voice fully intact—keeping the intensity and defiance sharp:

 

"What’s your name, princess?" he purrs, placing one calloused hand under my chin and the other on my waist.

 

A thousand snarky replies rush to my lips—but I bite my tongue.

 

I try.

 

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the girl I spoke to earlier. She’s staring straight at me—wide-eyed, silent. When I speak, I see her flinch, then turn away.

 

"Scarlett. And I’m not your fucking princess," I say flatly, standing tall.

 

No matter what happens, I’d rather die than be someone’s whore.

 

Not now. Not ever.

 

“Gentlemen,” he calls out, grinning as he throws his arms in the air. “Looks like Scarlett is going to be our priciest piece.”

 

“Get her to Tian.”

 

The guards leer, their eyes all over me like they’ve already paid the price.

 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” I growl, knowing full well that saying it only makes it worse.

 

 

Quickly, I’m shoved away from him—two tall men flanking me, one on each side, dragging me down a narrow hallway.

 

"Who’s Tian?" I ask.

 

They don’t answer. Just give me a once-over—my naked body on display—then smirk and look away.

 

Their silence shuts me right up.

 

The hallway’s dim and cracked, walls chipped and stained with time. But what else would you expect in a place like this?

 

Jarred and Lindsay are probably passed out drunk in someone’s bed. Laughing. Not giving a single shit.

 

They can rot in—

 

“You got a nice fucking ass. I’d love to tap that.”

 

I spin around fast, not even bothering to cover myself. Full display. Let the pigs gawk.

 

I just glare. He chuckles, smug and sleazy.

 

"Well, I’d love to shove a whole-ass breadstick up your asshole."

 

He shuts up real fast.

 

A metal door ahead beeps, unlocking with a code. It swings open, revealing a sterile room with a single chair in the center—spotlighted like I’m about to perform or be executed.

 

"So what am I supposed to do now? Sit and go fuck myself?" I mutter, hopping into the chair and crossing my legs like a queen. The two guards just stare, biting their lips like dogs in heat.

 

"Boys. I gotta fix her up. Step out."

 

A voice—male, deeper, sharper—cuts through the air behind me. The guards groan, but they obey, slamming the door behind them with a loud clang.

 

I jump slightly as a pair of hands land on my shoulders.

 

They’re steady. Cold.

 

Then fingers thread through my hair, curling and twisting, pulling with practiced skill.

 

"How old are you?" he asks, lifting my chin and prying open my mouth like I’m livestock.

 

He checks my teeth. Notes something on a clipboard.

 

"Somewhere between ‘none of your business’ and ‘go suck your own ass,’" I say with a grin.

 

He doesn’t laugh. Just glares. Eyes sharp enough to slice skin. The kind that says tell me, or I’ll make you wish you had.

 

"Twenty-one," I mutter, jaw tightening.

 

He nods, then starts plucking and dabbing at my face. A beauty blender pounds into my cheeks with surgical force. Each bounce feels like a slap.

 

I don’t flinch.

 

But I swear—if he tries eyeliner, someone’s losing a finger.

 

“Stand.”

His voice is flat, no emotion, as he strides toward a stack of clothes—no, lingerie. He holds it up like it’s a perfectly normal outfit for the day.

 

“You want me to wear that?” I choke, eyeing the scraps of lace like they might bite me.

 

He doesn’t flinch. Just looks at me over his glasses—one eye sharp blue, the other fogged and grey.

 

“They’ll kill you, little girl. Put this on.”

He pauses.

“Or maybe I’ll just fucking shoot you right here, right now.”

 

I nod fast, slipping the pieces on without another word. His eyes never leave me. I bet he lives for this part. Sick fuck.

 

I wonder what the hours are. Do they offer dental?

 

“A thing like you won’t last long,” he mutters, placing a cold finger under my chin and lifting it.

 

I smirk. “And an old fucker like you doesn’t have long to last, so I guess we both drew the short straw.”

 

He snorts, stepping back, setting his makeup brushes down on a sterile metal tray like he’s prepping a corpse for display.

 

“Are you a virgin?” he asks, casual—like he’s asking if I take cream in my coffee.

 

“Yep.”

I pop the p, just to piss him off.

 

He frowns, scribbles something on his clipboard. Like this is some kind of sick scavenger hunt, and my trauma is the grand prize.

 

“Do you masturbate?” Tian asks, eyes narrowing.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Answer the fucking question, you dumb slut. Or would you prefer I get someone to beat it out of you?”

 

My jaw locks.

“Yes.” I whisper.

 

He doesn’t even blink. Just writes it down.

 

“Dildo, vibrator, or hands?” he asks, like he’s ordering lunch.

 

My fury explodes.

“Jesus fucking Christ. Why does that even matter?”

 

“Because your pussy is the product, sweetheart. The men want tight, unused, unsullied.”

His voice is stone.

He grabs my chin hard, yanking my face toward him.

 

“All of them,” I growl. Staring right back. Daring him to write that down.

 

He holds my gaze for a beat, then lets go and shoves me back into the chair.

 

“Whatever you do—no speaking. No taking off your clothes. Got it, bitch? Good.”

 

He slams his clipboard down and pounds on the metal door three times.

 

“Excuse you, but—” I start to protest.

 

Too late.

 

The door swings open.

 

And there he is.

 

The man from the cage room.

 

Asshole.

"I hope you choke on your own dick."

My smile makes Mr. I-sell-girls-for-money stop us dead in the hallway.

 

He doesn’t answer. Just looks back at me and growls.

 

My breath shortens, but I swallow it down.

The screams echoing down the corridor make my stomach twist.

Right now, staying close to him feels safer than being left behind.

 

"Did your stylist tell you the rules?" he mutters, stopping in front of yet another metal door—because apparently that’s all this place has.

 

"Yes," I whisper.

 

He nods once, then shoves the door open and pushes me through.

 

"What’s your name?" I ask.

 

He smirks. "Edward."

And just like that, he slams the door shut behind me.

 

Darkness. Rotting walls. The low stink of fear.

 

The room is barely lit and utterly disgusting. Cracked tile. Mold. Inhuman.

 

"They’re going to eat you alive, little girl," a voice drawls from across the room.

 

Madeline.

 

My only “friend” here. Not that I’ve ever been good at making them.

 

I step cautiously toward her. Every other girl in the room watches me.

They all look the same—painted faces, sexy lingerie, blank stares.

 

I sit beside her.

"Why?" I whisper, my voice tight.

 

"Who wouldn’t want a hot slut as their first choice?" she grins, unapologetic.

 

"I—" I glance around. Some girls nod. Others just look away.

 

I slam my eyes shut.

 

Try to pretend I’m not here. Not in this room. Not in this body.

 

I rest my head against the wall behind me, willing myself to fade out.

 

When I open my eyes again, I’m alone.

 

"Get up."

 

A hand yanks me to my feet—rough, hard. A man’s grip around my arm as he shoves me toward a door that’s just opened in the corner.

 

The stage beyond is white. Sterile. Lit like I’m under a microscope.

 

Every wall is a mirror—or rather, a one-way window.

They’re watching. I can feel it in my skin.

 

The intercom crackles to life.

 

"Scarlett. Age 21. Feisty. Mouthy. Virgin. Starting bid: one hundred fifty thousand."

 

The numbers rise faster than I can process.

 

Three hundred. Four fifty. Seven hundred.

 

Each figure stabs at my brain. The light flashes. The air spins.

 

I look straight ahead—at the center mirror.

 

I breathe in, slow.

 

My hand glides over my chest. My fingers find the strap of the bodysuit.

 

And I pull.

 

The strap slips from my shoulder.

 

Then the other.

 

The bodysuit falls around my ankles. I’m naked again.

 

I don't know where this confidence came from… but I fucking like it.

 

Go, bitch. Go.

 

I stare at myself, lit up, vulnerable, defiant.

 

Probably one of the dumbest things I’ve done—but whatever. I’m already screwed.

 

Might as well add some spice to the story.

 

I brush my hair off my shoulder.

Then I raise my middle finger.

 

Right at the mirror.

Right at them.

 

 

 

“I’m not for sale, you arrogant little pricks!”

My voice slices through the air as I throw both middle fingers up, proud and defiant.

 

The clang of the door slamming open cuts me off—Edward storms in, fury in his eyes, his hand rising fast, ready to strike.

 

“Sold to Mr. Santoro for one-point-eight million!” the intercom blares.

 

Edward’s hand freezes inches from my face. My arms are already raised to shield myself, heart pounding.

 

His voice drops to a growl.

“You’re so fucking dead.”

 

He grabs me roughly, yanking me out of the room like I’m made of stuffing and wire. My feet stumble across the floor as he drags me to a plain wooden door.

 

He shoves me through it and slams it shut, locking it with a heavy click.

 

“Let me out!” I scream, fists pounding on the door.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Edward, you son of a crack whore—”

 

My rant dies in my throat.

 

I spin around and freeze.

 

A man stands at the far end of the room.

 

Slicked-back hair. Perfectly pressed suit. Not a wrinkle, not a flaw. He looks like the kind of man who has people to iron his soul.

 

He smirks.

 

“Boss is gonna love that fiery attitude of yours.”

 

“Excuse me? Who the fu—”

I cross my arms over my chest. Try to stand my ground.

 

He just laughs.

 

“He’s going to make you wish you were dead.”

 

And suddenly, every ounce of bravado drains like water through a crack.

 

Whoever this man worked for—I was screwed. Not “oops I sent a nude to the family group chat” screwed.

 

I was rainbow-Afro, barrel-rolling-down-a-flight-of-stairs, please-god-make-it-stop kind of screwed.

 

Fuck.

Just… fuck.