Unembraced

Prologue: Nightly Encounters

Time was against most of us, evidently an internal clock ticking away. When the sound stops, everything slows then freezes until death is done with its dance to claim you. It felt similar like that to being on stage and dancing in front of an audience who pretended to enjoy the performance. Being emotionally sensitive to those around me, I had to construct barriers to protect the frailness that enveloped my heart. I received casual glances because the simplicity of critics refused to believe how an artist could make it, so life and death co-exist with the other. Did visual art have to be what the public only desired? No... I refuse to acknowledge that.

I shuddered as ice, cold wind brushed against my skin. It was the middle of winter, precisely December, in Krimson City. I've been surviving on the streets for over six months now. This was after the fact I slammed my manager's face into a table as he threated to rape me. I had every right to defend myself when his hands and mouth touched me in places that violated me. So, his face met the flat surface of the wooden table after I warned him to quit. It got worse until I walked out into the night.

If I knew all that would happen, I would have remained an artist of photoshoots and glass sculptures. How were Mel and the other local artists holding up? I was one of the few people that would verbally voice my opinion about naive critics who didn't comprehend art. They appeared to dishearten my decision of leaving. If Maria, one of the many critics, didn't overly stated how unoriginal my work was, then I would've had second thoughts. Would my father be ashamed of me? Footsteps echoed through the dark alley. I turned my head to see two unknown men approach me.

"Well, what do we have here? Another unfortunate whore, a pretty one nonetheless," a male's voice said.

I stood my ground, pressing my back against the back wall. The two men started circling around me like sharks. I flinched when a rough hand gripped my chin tightly. The action irritated me, but I remained silent. If this person wanted to, he could easily snap my neck. His hand was trailing down my throat and stopped at my necklace.

"That's a lovely piece of jewelry, not one of Enrico's girls? No..." He paused.

He must mean one of the street gangs that orchestrate human trafficking. Arele worked for Enrico and kept me company even on evenings like this. She always brought food and shared with me on occasion. Arele did wonder how I ended up in this predicament. After I told her about my situation about what caused me to leave both of my artistic occupations, she gave me a pitiful look. It did irk me how these two men were handling me. Deep down I was scared, funny the only thing that did that were the voices of Anxiety and Depression that whispered in my mind.

"Ero, you know we were out looking for easy prey, too have "a little fun with" right?" The younger man said, intently.

"Devy, enough. Plus, what's this immigrant going to do, scream? She is lovely on the eyes, Italian, no?" Ero asked.

"And what if I am? I find you two undeserving for me even for two gentlemen" I said, sarcastically.

Ero and Devy both glared at my bravado.

"Come now, you look frail and half-starved. If I were you, I'd be politer with us, but I admire that challenging nature of yours miss," Ero smirked, darkly.

. I didn't approve how tight his hold was on my Murano glass necklace I received from an old friend... Why did his name elude me? It was a red rose with black lace tied neatly around my neck. His hands were delicate with my skin, stating it was as beautiful as marble and called me his muse of artwork. That kind of compliment might have come off as strange with other people, but for me it caused me to heat up; embarrassed and unsure why he referred to me in that way. We were younger; sixteen and nineteen. The man's eyes were a lovely azure color and handsome. I was average; someone that wouldn't even receive a glance from anyone. He did grow annoyed whenever I was stubborn about smiling in photos. High, of all things that could be flashing before my eyes, I recall that? I snapped back into reality when I felt pressure against my neck.