Borrowed Stilettos

The elevator doors opened and she stepped out.

Don't fall.

She walked down the hallway, unsteadily on borrowed stilettoes.

She was willing herself invisible.

The sway of her hips turned the heads of passing men in the lobby.

She ignored their leers.

As she always had.

She focused on the clicking of her shoes on the tile.

Click. Click. Click.

As she walked.

Nearly there.

Nearly out.

She braved a quick peek over her shoulder.

No one was running towards her.

No screams were sounding from the elevator.

How long would it take for them to notice that slime ball was missing?

Probably only the next morning.

The hotel staff would walk in.

Expecting to clean the room.

Then they'd find him.

Actually.

Her "partner" would be noticed sooner.

The snake.

Probably when her boss came knocking.

Time slot over. Where's my money?

Why. Why. Why.

Why did she get in the car with them?

A lonely lowlife.

Easy picking.

One night.

One night of dirty deeds.

A huge cash out waiting afterwards.

Why did she get into their car?

Easy. 

She was easy.

She swayed.

Vomit threatening to rupture.

No.

Not yet.

Please.

Almost out.

Wearing a dead prostitutes clothes.

A dead man's blood under her fingernails.

Nearly out.

Run away.

Her throat was raw.

Not from the nerves.

From the man's meaty fingers squeezing.

Squeezing while they tore at her clothing.

She had panicked.

She didn't want to play this game anymore.

Stop.

The glass on the nightstand.

She had reached out.

Her vision was hazy.

He squeezed harder.

Her "partner" laughed as she struggled under their grip.

Stop.

Enough.

The glass smashed to the side on his face.

His eye.

Ruined.

Her "partner" grabbed for her.

No.

There was a piece of glass in her hand.

Instinct again.

She hadn't meant to.

She had left the prostitute gurgling on the carpet.

The glass buried in her throat.

Stolen clothes.

Wash off the blood.

Run. Run. Run.

Finally.

Out the doors.

The cold air was like a slap in the face.

Free.

She walked faster.

Then she heard the sirens.

Towards the hotel they sped.

She didn't peek over her shoulder.

Mamma always warned her.....not to talk to strangers.