𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘿𝙀𝙑𝙄𝙇'𝙎 𝘿𝙀𝘼𝙇 - 𝙔𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍𝙀 𝘼𝙇𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙊𝙍 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍

1.

━━━

I don't know how someone as dangerous as you has left me so helplessly illuminated with reddened cheeks, naturally. 

You didn't have to force mounds of beauty products upon my features to consider me valuable. 

You found attraction for me, yourself. 

And you've left me feeling just as requited. 

As destructive as you are. 

As wretched, unstable, and manipulative as you are. 

Yet so, undeniably alluring. 

You have led me down, carefully, meticulously, sunk your claws against my skin and have refused to let go once you backed me into a corner. 

And maybe, this is for the best.

To be within your hands, 

Your judgement, 

Your control.

Because I know, deep down, there are things you feel about me that are much deeper than you are prepared to reveal.

And to do this to me, you've gotten what you wanted, 

but at what price?

Myself.

━━━

The cool, night breeze, and the overpowering scent of burnt cigarettes and booze linger upon the bathroom's air, still, humid.

Hot, overwhelming tears trickled and dripped down my pulsing, tender wrists, my face painfully shoved into the palms of my hands as I sobbed within the cold cubicle. 

My cries echoed against the stained, tiled room's walls, the muffle of the bar's music barely comforting the isolation. 

My eyes burn from the overflowing tears, my body aches and cries for rest, and my stomach is contorting in nauseous sickness. 

I can't do this anymore.

For years, I have spent my time under the grasp of someone powerful, lustful, and nauseating. A grasp in which I cannot escape, no matter how much I cry, beg, or plea. I have no will left. 

Hell envelopes me, it's sinners, it's vulgarity and depravity, it's loneliness. I have nobody. I haven't had anybody for as long as I can remember. From life till death, I had spent performing for others, for other's entertainment and their objectifying gaze. 

Fishnets, torn and riddled with rips line my tense, rigid legs, and my patted, over-worn makeup coat's my face in it's smeared, tear-run nature. 

I am a sinner.

I know that well and truly, and that is something I cannot change about myself. 

I cannot cleanse myself, my sins, my actions, and yet even past my death, I live on to face those sins all over again. It's a deafening, mind-mumblingly torturous cycle. 

And whilst I do so, my sinful actions are placed on display by the control and judgement of Valentino. 

He knew I was naive, willing to clutch by the side of anyone who offered there hand in protection and fortune. With the underworld that I'm forever doomed to live in, you will take just about anyone's offers to feel any source of stability. 

And when I did, what was offered was at least partially true.

I became a star. 

My face was displayed across every nook and cranny of the streets, billboard displays and advertisements. I felt secure. Like I could truly make something of myself here, even if I couldn't when I was living. 

It fed my hopes and faintly formed dreams, though, that was the tipping point, when I noticed how true of a mistake I made. 

From regular performances, shifted to private performances, shoots, videos, into intimate scenes which I'd rather not think about.

Though, as I'm sobbing in this horribly uncleaned bar bathroom, the door quite suddenly swings open by a hand of a spider which has basically become my co-worker.

"What the fuck are you doing in here?"

Angel Dust. 

His question tinges and pinches at my skin, the defensive, natural hostility and his tall figure overlook's me. 

My arms shakily cross over my corset-tightened body, trembling, cold. Tears drip and I feel my face tightly tense to the sound of his voice.

"I-I... I can't go back out there," I manage to painfully force out, watching his deadpan, unphased expression morph as he slowly sigh's and glances away with a sense of annoyance washing ove him. 

"How can you be such a baby about it, you've done this longer than me,..." I hear him mumble frustratedly under his breath before meeting my watery gaze. "Listen, if you don't get back out there, I'll have to face Valentino too. Not just you. And to be frank, I really don't wanna' have to explain to the guy why one of his favourite performer's is crying like a baby in the bathroom."

I clench my jaw, a deep huff leaving me as my tear's slow. It's true. Neither of us want to face the guy, none of us want to face his anger, his violent, his detrimental nature. 

But after that performance, the vulgar, erratic crowd, Valentino's deep, intense gaze watching my every move from across the bar without a care in the world for how the audience treat's me, it's all too much. 

"I cant," I choke, shaking my head with horrible denial. 

"I can't do this anymore, you s-saw those people out there-! Valentino didn't care-! he never did, and knowing that, he won't care if anything worse could possibly happen to me to...!" I break down once more, tear's dripping and trickling down my cheeks and crossed arms as I lean against the wall, the cold wall against my back as Angel Dust stares. 

"Trust me, I know, Y/N. But the fuck are you gonna do about it? you signed the deal, and so did I. Nothing we can do about it."

"But... "

"But what? you think you can magically break free from the guy? find another demon to protect you?"

"But why would I need another demon-"

"Because if you try some shit like that, if you try to leave Val, he's gonna be pissed, Y/N. And he'll try to fuckin' kill you. So I recommend that you get out there, wipe that smeared shit from your face, and suck it up. Because this is just as shit for me as it is for you."

His voice breaks me in a way, in a way i'd rather not here. Because it's all true. 

But if I know anything, it's that I cannot, and will not perform on that stage for him, nor anyone else. 

Not under Valentino's control, not under his spell, not for anyone but myself.

And within the short amount of time that I have, I feel my eye's lift and flicker towards the bathroom window. 

━━━