§𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 | 𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐬

01.

§tain | chapter one - blood on her lips pt.1

Warning: Sexual Content Ahead! 

Gotham City
10 years ago

  Rain down poured in Gotham's seediest part of town so suddenly and unexpected. It batters rooftops, overflowed streets, and ripples puddles left from the previous storm, A pair of red nylon boots' track through the shallow ponds of precipitation in a flagrant rush to go over the general darkened lanes, kicking up rings.

  On the walkway up ahead, uneven sections have a rainbow sheen - such's left of a butterfly drawing. There stayed an outline, blurred, but indisputable.

   Still her eyes dared not stray from her heeled feet, opposite from the washed out illustration, only transfixed by the clicking sound they made against the wet asphalt. Her contemplations, was a chaotic and jumbled mess.

   Wandering aimlessly, suffocating her with their murmurs. Normally, after a long shift at the red room, One of Gotham city's seediest attractions, she'd return home with a sound conscious. Knowing she made enough that will cover bills and put food in her younger sister's belly. For that regardless of all that she had endured, the young lady stayed quiet about her feelings and pointed her emphasis on issues which held more little noteworthiness.

   But now, pressing forward, the high schooler wanted to compare the drawing with her condition of mental soundness. Much the same as the mists above, the tumbling gray clouds so smoky and silver, and the precipitation, consistent, conjuring sweet ripples on her skin. She flinched at the pain growing in her midsection and where bruises had peppered her cheek and throat. It hurt to swallow, to walk - hell, to even move.

   The girl wanted to lie on the ground and yell if her vocal chords allowed it, till her throat wound up irritated and inflamed. However, as opposed to pitching a pointless fit, she held her head high and kept up as much dignity she could muster.

She had longed to strip herself of those tight pieces of clothing and clunky jewelry and hop into the shower. Wash away the customer's cologne and spunk which by either reliably clung to her skin after each vigorous activity.

   Gotham's streets were not where you should be during late hours. Though few people considered it. Since the city gained its very own exceptional caped crusader and his after mentioned sidekick. The girl didn't require some mask wearing and weapon waving freaks protecting her. She had all that one could need to fend themselves when facing danger.

   She avoided scammers sparing no effort to sell her counterfeit jewelry, dark corners where two junkies shot clear fluid in one another's arms, homeless men who narrowed their eyes at her, and licked blackened teeth. Even hookers who've been in the game longer than she had sexily puffing on cigarettes and still somehow looking desperate.

    The teen's hand hovered her purse, ready to whip out her pepper spray in case she needed to mace a sucker daring to cross her. But as she turned, she came face to face with three men clad in leather.

   The seventeen-year-old sought to maneuver around them after she had recognized the trio. Ryder, Trask, and Miran, bodyguards of a regular. She once refused to please them which nearly cost her her job. The men, however, blocked her path now, and before she knew it, had her cornered.

   One of them with heavily inked skin, blue eyes, and hard features, Trask, was the first to speak. "Where you think you're going, little Angel."

     Angel is her work name, a requirement needed to get the job. Whoever uttered it usually spoke as if it were sugar dancing on the tips of their tongues. A light at the end of a never ending tunnel. But this one said it as if it were poison. His thumb reached to run over the indentation of her lips. She gasped from the contact, and shrank back away from his touch, covering her mouth.