“Me?”
“More specifically?”
“A d-dancer?”
“Was that ‘a dancer’?” He laughed without smiling. “You’re funny. I thought you were stupid at first, but I know better now. I see through your little act. Somebody so funny couldn’t be stupid. Try again.”
I didn’t speak. I couldn’t.
“Okay, I’ll help you out, since for once, you’re at a loss for words,” he spat the words with wrath I’d never seen. “I see a pretty piece of ass. I see a girl who works for me. For the club. I see a whore for the right price.”
With every sentence my body shook more and more, I saw the strain in my muscles as I tensed in fear.
“I see a whore in a fancy dress.” The hand that had been holding my jaw disappeared out of sight for a second and appeared again with a knife in hand. With a fast flick of his wrist it opened, revealing a long blade.
I gasped and tried to get out of his grip. “Occum, what’re you doin’?”
I fought him, but he was standing over the trap door and he was so strong. God, he was so strong. I needed to stay calm.
“I’m sorry I messed up. I’m sorry I talked back. I’ll dance. I can strip if you want.”
“Shut up. I won’t tell you again.”
The blade in his hand glinted as he moved it toward me, reflecting on a thousand different surfaces. I froze. He wouldn’t hurt me. I would have no value if I was bleeding.
He brought the knife to me and I couldn't look away as he slowly used it to cut down my satin gloves. Starting at the top of my arm and all the way down. When he tried to cut the second glove, it bunched and snagged so he reached across my body in a twisted embrace to hold the glove in place as he used the other to cut the material. It wasn't steady; it was barely controlled rage. There was a demon writhing under the skin of this man.
“Short Fuse Suze.” He half hummed the words to himself like he was lost in the pleasure of torturing me. “So pretty. You make me so much money. It’s a shame.”
Next, he gathered bits of my gown in his fists and cut them off chunk by chunk. The sound of the beads hitting the floor as he destroyed my couture gown would forever echo in my head.
I stood holding my shivering arms.
“I see a scared little girl who thinks she’s better than her roots.” Slice. Another chunk fell to the floor. “I see a slut with nobody to give a shit about her.”
Another chunk. I wouldn’t collapse. I would stay standing. I closed my eyes and took a fortifying breath. It’s just words. It’s just words.
“I see someone who owes her real family. Who thinks she can pull a fast one.”
“No. No, it wasn’t like that,” I whispered.
“I’ve taken such care of you.” He pet down the side of my face with his calloused hand that smelled like rusting iron. “I put you on the main stage and this is how you repay me?”
He continued to cut off another layer as he held my gaze in a mirror, the pure hatred immobilizing me. My dress was completely cut away. All that remained were my thong and strapless bra.
“You don’t take from the Black Demons.”
I gasped when the knife cut off my bra. He nicked my skin in the process and a drop of blood moved slowly down my back.
“Occum,” I moaned, hating how weak I sounded.
“I’ve been more than patient with you. You’ve cost me too much.”
The blade sliced off my thong roughly, cutting a small line in my flesh above my hip. I bit back a scream. The sight of my own blood on my skin and his dripping blade did something to me. Something snapped.
“You’re a stripper. A hooker. My bitch. Whatever I tell you.”
Until that moment I’d truly thought Occum wouldn't kill me. That I had too much value. But there was darkness and pure evil in his eyes. I was nothing to him. I've never been anything to him. I was a way to make money. An object to please his boys. Never a person. And now, I didn't serve any purpose. The realization came too late. I was in too deep.
