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I held my position, following the musical beats as did the other performers. We all shared worried glances with each other. We were in the middle of the war, but we were still working as 'entertainment' for the men. This was the second world war for gods sake. A group of American soldiers had just come inside to enjoy a show. We offered them small smiles as we continued to dance, barely dressed. I sucked in a sharp breath when a familiar pair of eyes landed on me, my eye meeting his. James Buchanan Barnes. His smile, from laughing with his friends, faltered. My smile fell too. I swallowed thickly as I noticed his best friend Steve.
After a few hours of the soldiers being here, they had all become drunk, finding themselves stumbling out of the building close to closing time. I heard a sound from the back room, something unfamiliar, and decided to go investigate as I pulled on a skirt to cover myself a little more, it was still skimpy, but at least it gave me more coverage. I quietly stepped into the girl's room, finding a few of them warily stood up, half dressed. We all shared nervous or hardened looks. Two of the four older girls gathering the two younger ones and took them into the main room. It wasn't until there was a few of us left in the back room, that we heard gunfire from the main room. After sharing looks, we hurried over to the performance area. Immediately, there was a gun or two pointed to the three of us, so we raised our hands, tucking them behind out heads. We joined the others, forced to our knees in the centre of the room. I shared a look with the girl beside me. There were around six men in the room, all of the opposing side of the war, the side America was fighting. And there was only six of us. That's one each, if we were able to get up without being shot.
"Stand up!" We slowly did as told, one man coming over to each of us and grabbing out wrists. Instantly, I whipped around and landed a swift punch to his nose, hearing a satisfying crack as he held his nose. I drove my knee into his stomach as more chaos unfolded in the room from the other girls, shots being fired. I grabbed the gun from my guy and slammed the butt of it into his head before aiming the barrel against his skull and pulling the trigger. I huffed, adjusting my grip on the gun and turning to the others to see that they had all done similar things. The youngest of us was 18, the oldest being myself at 23. Holly was the youngest, 18 - then Margret, 19 - Frances, 19 - Irene, 21 - Josephine, 21, and then myself at 23. I released a sigh, the sound shaky as Holly hesitantly picked up a gun. She looked to me for confirmation and I nodded. The others adjusted their grips, checking the bodies for ammo as I headed over to the main door, hearing the familiar sound of a plane overhead.
