Inferno 🔥

18. Le Diable

18.0

L I T T L E Laila was not so little anymore. It had been months since she'd been kicked out of the orphanage. She wasn't sure how long exactly. The days had bled into weeks which warped into extended periods of her wandering the streets. She'd hitchhiked, stowawayed, and flat out walked the hundreds of miles from the outskirts of Savannah to the depths of Atlanta. In the cesspool capital of America she hid in the shadows, protecting the tattered backpack on her shoulders which held all of her worldly possessions. She disguised herself as a man to avoid sex traffickers, sleeping in dumpsters to ensure her safety. Then she stumbled upon a homeless shelter, and settled down.

After that it was like clockwork. Wake up at the crack of dawn, get in line for the sludge of the day, pack up everything, and roam the streets of Atlanta looking for work. She never found anything legal. But she couldn't just "laze around" (as the shelter's manager said), and she was met with an unsavory ultimatum. Get a job, or get on the streets.

So she started working at a strip club, the type with no bouncers, no security cameras, and no rules. The Gentleman's Girls was no man's land. Girls would go missing left and right, and nobody seemed to notice but Laila. She knew better than to ask questions, instead made sure to keep a switchblade tucked in her bra. She'd had to whip it out far too often for her taste, but she did what she had to do to keep herself alive. Even if that meant taking the life of another.

After all the years of hardships she'd endured, deep down inside she was still a scared little girl watching her parents burn. Deep down inside she was still little Laila.

When she was fired and kicked back unto the streets, her fear overwhelmed her. That same night she wandered in darkness. Her skimpy faux rhinestone bra and g-string hidden under a bulky cloak that broadened her shoulders and darkened her features. A baseball cap was pulled low over her eyes, her voluptuous curls tucked into it. She'd switched her six inch stilettos for heavy duty work boots that clomped just as loud on the sidewalk, trudging through the pools of slush that festered in potholes as she crossed the street. Wire glasses with five year old prescriptions barely clung to her face, and cast the world into a hazy blur she'd grown accustomed to. If she squinted in a particular way and tilted her head just right she could make out the street sign fifteen feet away. Yellow River Road.

She stepped unto the curb as she heard a car ease up behind her. She continued walking steadily as it slowed to a crawl next to her. She tried not to glance inside the tinted window as her heart pounded. Grabbing the crumbled paper cup wedged in one of the many pockets in her cargo pants she changed her entire demeanor as she turned to face the sleek sports car. Her shoulders bunching, brows furrowing and eyes narrowing into an annoyed stare. She deepened her voice as much as she could, clenching her throat to distort it as she rapped on the window and said, "you gon' give me some liquor money?"

The car just sat there, idling.

"Huh?" She rapped the glass again then shaked her empty cup. "You got change or what?"

She stood there, slightly crouched, for a tense few seconds before the window slid down. She immediately thought the streetlights were reflecting off the barrel of a gun, but instead two quarters were dropped into her cup. Judging on the rings on the man's fingers and the flash of his grill when he smiled, he had much more to spare.

"You have a nice night sir, hope you get the liquor you're looking for."

Laila didn't have to turn her head to see the naked, bruised woman splayed across the back seat. Completely unconscious with her hands and feet bound, and a gag in her mouth. Laila made sure to swallow the bile in her throat before answering.