I almost hit the alarm clock on the table, the sound of its incessant beeping piercing through my eardrums like a thousand knives. What a nuisance. I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the haze of sleep. Three hours wasn't enough to recharge my batteries, but it would have to do. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and planted my feet firmly on the cold floor. The chill was a welcome respite from the heat that seemed to seep into every pore of my body.
As I stood up, the room seemed to spin around me, and I had to grasp the bedframe to steady myself. I took a deep breath, trying to clear the fog from my mind. The silence in the house was oppressive, a stark contrast to the chaos that awaited me outside. I knew I had to get moving; I couldn't afford to be late.
I shuffled to the kitchen, my bare feet making barely a sound on the tile floor. The kettle whistled as I turned on the stove, and I waited for the water to boil. The aroma of coffee filled the air, a familiar comfort that seemed to seep into my bones. But my mind was elsewhere, preoccupied with the struggles that lay ahead.
My sister, Claire, was counting on me. We'd been delayed in paying for her medication for three weeks, and I knew that if I didn't get this shift tonight, she might have to stop treatment. The thought sent a shiver down my spine. I couldn't let that happen. Not when I'd promised to take care of her.
I poured the steaming water into a cup and watched as the coffee grounds dissolved, releasing their rich flavor. I took a sip, feeling the warmth spread through my chest. It was a small comfort, but it would have to suffice.
As I got dressed, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My eyes looked sunken, my skin pale. I forced a smile, trying to muster some enthusiasm. "Smile, Elaris," I told myself. "Even if it's fake." I'd learned to wear masks over the years, to pretend that everything was okay even when it wasn't.
The bar was a different world altogether. The neon lights outside seemed to pulse with an energy that was both captivating and repulsive. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the night ahead. The familiar smell of cigarette smoke, alcohol, and perfume hit me like a slap in the face. I was greeted by the sound of laughter, music, and clinking glasses.
Carla, one of my coworkers, spotted me and waved me over. "Elaris, hurry up! Martha's coming!" she shouted above the din. I nodded, grabbing a tray of drinks and making my way to the tables.
The night wore on, a blur of orders, smiles, and polite conversation. I was a waitress, a chameleon adapting to the whims of our patrons. Some were friendly, others lewd and suggestive. I learned to laugh and joke, to make them feel like they were the most important person in the world.
But there were moments when the mask slipped, when the exhaustion and frustration boiled over. Like when Mr. Gardo, a wealthy regular, propositioned me in the most explicit terms. I felt a wave of disgust wash over me, but I forced a smile, trying to diffuse the situation.
"I'm sorry, sir," I said, my voice sweet and polite. "But I'm just a waitress. I don't do...extras."
He sneered at me, his eyes glinting with amusement. "You're a smart mouth, aren't you?" he said, his voice dripping with menace. "I like that."
I knew I was playing with fire, but I couldn't help myself. I'd had enough of men like him, who thought they could buy and sell women like me. I'd had enough of Martha, our manager, who seemed to take pleasure in our discomfort.
Just then, Carla intervened, slapping Mr. Gardo's face with a resounding crack. "You disgusting old man!" she shouted.
The room fell silent, the music screeching to a halt. I stood frozen, unsure of what to do next.
And then, out of nowhere, a man appeared. He was tall, imposing, and dressed in black. His face was hidden behind a gold mask, but his eyes seemed to bore into my soul.
"Want to meet my cousin - Satan?" he said, his voice low and menacing.
The atmosphere shifted, the air thickening with tension. Mr. Gardo's face paled, and he seemed to shrink in his seat.
The man in black grabbed my arm, his grip firm but not rough. He pulled me away from the chaos, and I stumbled after him, unsure of what was happening.
Before I could react, he kissed me. It was a brief, searing moment, one that left me breathless and confused.
When I opened my eyes, he was gone. The bar was in chaos, security guards rushing in to break up the fight. Carla was shaking, and Martha was cowering in fear.
But I just stood there, my heart pounding in my chest. Who was that man? And what did he want from me?
The rest of the night was a blur. I went through the motions, serving drinks and collecting tips. But my mind was elsewhere, replaying the events of the night and trying to make sense of them.
As I left the bar and stepped out into the cool night air, I couldn't shake the feeling that my life was about to change in ways I couldn't even imagine. The man in black had left his mark on me, a mark that went deeper than just a kiss.
And I couldn't help but wonder what the future held. Would I be able to take care of Claire? Would I be able to survive in a world that seemed determined to crush me?
The city lights seemed to stretch out before me like a challenge, a reminder that I had to keep fighting. I took a deep breath, squaring my shoulders and stepping forward into the unknown. Bring it on, I thought. I'm ready.