kyalimpaJollyBirungi
"How much?" The voice came from a shadowed figure seated in an expensive car.
I frowned, taken aback "Excuse me? I don't understand..."
Then realization hit. My eyes dropped to the short dress and heels my friends had convinced me to wear, my stomach twisted.
"I...I'm not a prostitute" I stammered, raising my hands as if that would protect me from his gaze.
His dark eyes studied me, old, unreadable. Panic began to crawl up my spine, I took a step back
"Get in the car" His voice was low, his dark eyes studied me, cold, unreadable. Panic began to crawl up my spine, I took a step back.
"Get in the car" His voice was low, a growl that left no room for argument.
I spun around and ran.
Calla Levkin hadn't even wanted to go clubbing on her eighteenth birthday.
She hadn't wanted her friends to squeeze her into revealing clothes, she hadn't wanted to look like someone she wasn't and she definitely hadn't wanted to be mistaken for a prostitute.
But life doesn't care what you want, sometimes, it gives you exactly what you fear most.