The Streets of Manhattan - Alexander Hamilton x Reader

Midnight

It all happens so fast.

It's dark, late at night, far past the respectable time to be out- especially for a woman. You know it's both inappropriate and dangerous for you to be out, but, well, as a prostitute, you don't have a choice. You have to get back home somehow, home to the rickety old house you live in situated in the least reputable part of the city. You're walking to that place right now, at 11:00 at night, alone. Not to mention, still dressed as a prostitute. What could possibly go wrong?

In all honesty, you're terrified. A woman, alone at night, wearing clothes that clearly mark her as a prostitute or bar-whore, walking about the streets of Manhattan, New York, defenseless, still several blocks away from home. Any man that might happen to come across you...any man that didn't want to pay your price earlier could get what he wants from you now, for free, and there's no one around to stop him.

You glance around the barely-lit streets, shivering both at the cold and at the thought that even the dim street-lights won't be enough to stop what's coming for you if you don't get inside, quickly. There's a distant warning bell in your head screaming run! Find a weapon! Call a friend, family member, get inside!

Except you can't run, because that will attract attention, and there is no weapon on this deserted street in Manhattan that could stop a man once he's set his eyes on you. As for friends, family members, relatives- your family is all either dead or living elsewhere. You have friends, yes, but none that live anywhere close to here and none that would fare any better against a man in the dark of night.

Right on cue, footsteps sound behind you. Fear surges. You endeavor to keep calm, but fail. You panic, eyes frantically flitting around for anyone else, anything else- an open store, a light on in a house, anything. The only lights you see are dim and the stores all closed.

The footsteps come closer, closer, closer. Your senses increase, heightening until the distinct, acrid scent of unwashed male washes over you, strongly enough you have to force yourself not to gag. Blind, overwhelming panic begins to take over.

The man comes closer still, close enough you can hear his breathing, and you finally lose it. You grab your skirts and sprint, cursing your burdensome dress for slowing you down. The man follows in pursuit, closer and closer and somewhere deep inside your bones you already know there's no escaping. Women don't exactly go on daily runs or condition themselves for any kind of physical effort. Men, on the other hand...

A cold, clammy hand closes around your arm and jerks you to a stop. You turn to face him. In the dim light of the streets, he looks ghostly and unreal, an ugly creature of exaggerated highlights and shadows.

"Hello, sweetheart," he sneers. "Fancy helping me out with a...problem of mine?"

You know exactly what he means. Your hand itches to slap him, but you're used to men's disgusting behavior- and besides, angering this man now will only make it worse for you in the long run.

"No, not really, sir," you say instead. Be quiet. Smile, look pretty. Maybe he'll let you go if you can make him pity you- maybe he'll be gentler. Curb your terror. If you give rein to it, it's only gonna hurt more.

His hand is still around your forearm, gripping tightly enough you know it'll leave bruises. He grins, showing rotting, yellowed teeth. Although the sight isn't exactly uncommon, especially given your work, it still gives your stomach an unpleasant turn when you smell his breath: rotting meat and onions, or something just as bad.

"Well, I have to insist, actually. I think you're exactly-" he shoves you against a wall, "what I need."

Your breathing speeds up as you frantically calculate what to do. You have some self-defense training, thanks to your manager, but not enough to make the possibility of success anything more than slight; besides, if you fail, that'll just make him angry, making whatever he intends to do to you worse. He could even end up killing you if you're not careful. You know men like this one- they're uncivilized, brutal, and savage. If they don't get their way, then...