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I hand her the clothes I took off her body just a few minutes ago.
To my dismay, she puts them on. If I could, I would have her naked all the time.
We sit together in silence for several minutes, our breathing gradually slowing.
Finally, she speaks.
“You really want me to work for you?” she whispers.
I slide one hand up to her neck, tracing my thumb over her lips, and smile.
“If you’re sure that’s what you want.”
“I’m still unsure why you’d want me to,” she shares.
“You’re one tough cookie,” I say. “A real fireball, and I don’t think anyone else can take you on.”
She looks at me, a quiet, placid expression in tow.
I can’t quite decipher what she’s thinking, but I assume she’s still intimidated by the idea of being a part of the mafia.
“Are you afraid?” I ask her.
“It’s a dangerous job,” she shrugs.
I understand where she’s coming from. Yet, I wonder where she’s come from.
A complex conundrum.
Emily Jackson. A girl I found working in one of the toughest bars in Illinois.
Most people don’t even know of its existence, which automatically means that, in some way, she’s used to the way my world works.
You don’t just walk into the White Rabbit and get a job behind the bar counter - privy to the innermost secrets of the people whom I can, in the politest way possible, call criminals.
We’re not criminals. We’re monsters.
She must have known that.
Yet, she was desperate. Desperate people find themselves in impossible situations.
“Tell me,” I ask her, “what was your childhood like? You said you have no family, but how did you end up here, Emily?”
She squints her eyes at me. “Can we not?” she asks.
“You’ve got to give me something.”
She remains quiet for a while.
“Growing up, my family and I had very little. My dad was an alcoholic, often out of work, and my mom was left to care for us all alone. We were always struggling, barely making it through the month. I remember never having
enough to eat. It was really hard.”
She pauses, taking a deep breath.
“They... they died in a car crash. Back then, I had a guy. We moved a lot. He became... dangerous. I ran away with the little money I had kept hidden and lived in a women’s shelter. There, I learned about Illuminati. They trained
me, skilled me, found me the gig at The White Rabbit.”
