Gracie || ON GOING ||

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Gracie's POV

"Grace?" He asks softly, causing me to flinch and come out of my endless and depressing thoughts and memories.

I woke up this morning with the heavy weight of depression on my chest. I don't even remember moving from Dan's bed to where I am in the corner of the living room.

"Thank you." I whisper, looking up into his scared eyes.

"For what?" He sits on the floor opposite me, his legs out in front of him and his weight resting on his hands that are behind him.

"For being there. For sticking up for me. For bringing me here." I feel my bottom lip begin to quiver.

He was about to reply when there was an extremely loud knock on the door. Multiple in fact. "Grace! Get out here!" It's Lexi.

Shit.

Me and Dylan look into each others eyes and then over at the sofa where Dan is now sitting up on, rubbing his eyes.

"She can't see me like this!" I panic.

"Would one of you please answer that door?" Dan mumbles, still half asleep.

"Go to Dan's room." Dylan hisses.

I do as I am told. I hold my breath as I hear the door open and then, "Where is she? Her bag was left on her bed. Have you seen what she has? Does she really think I don't know she sneaks out every night and comes back at stupid o'clock?" Lexi's annoyed, high pitched voice echoes through the flat.

"Ok, short stuff, calm down." Dylan's amused voice jokes.

"Don't tell me to calm down. My sister is a prostitute!" She yells.

That's it!

I practically run out into the living room. "I am not a prostit-" I stop as I see her holding my black bag in one hand and my black lingerie-dress in the other.

"Then what the hell are these? Because you don't have a boyfriend!" She gives me a pointed look. "Oh, and look at all this money!" She pulls out my purse from my bag and takes out most of the money.

"It's not prostitution." I mumble, looking at the back of the sofa.

"Then what is it?" Her voice is a bit softer this time.

I stay silent.

"Grace?" Dan breaths.

"I strip, ok. There, I've said it. I am a stripper. I walk around a brightly lit stage in those barely-there dresses and have men hand me money." I admit, looking her in the eyes. I watch as her mouth forms an 'O'.

"Everything is on my terms. I chose those outfits because they covered me the most. I choose the music I dance to, I choose how I dance and I don't let them touch me unless it's to put the money in my underwear. It's not prostitution." I defend myself.

I walk over to her and snatch the bag and my purse out of her hands and start to walk towards the door.

"Why? Why strip?" She wonders as my hand touches the door handle. I turn around and look at her.

"I got fired from the restaurant a few weeks ago and we need the money." I say honestly.

"There are other ways. I can find a better job that pays more. Y-you could quit. You have enough money there to last us a few months!"

"No, Lex, you're fourteen; you can't get a proper job yet. Plus-" I trail off.

"Plus what?" Dylan finally speaks up, making me look at his amazing face.