Silas glanced over at her, wondering if an emergency had forced her hurried exit from the club. Perhaps a family crisis or a medical emergency, he thought.
Beside him, Elsa felt a profound wave of gratitude toward the stranger. He had saved her life. Beneath her thankfulness, however, a deep terror lingered. The thought of Jordin getting his hands on her again made her shudder. He had bitten her, nearly causing her to collapse, and had grabbed her hair with brutal force. The sheer violation terrified her. What else would he have done?
"Where can I drop you?" Silas asked, though a part of him longed to ask why she was in such a frantic rush.
"You can drop me at the next shops," she replied, her eyes fixed on him as he navigated the streets.
"Okay," he said with an understanding nod.
Elsa's mind raced, a bitter realization settling in: Jordin was an absolute monster for hurting her.
The car came to a smooth stop at the pavement.
"Thank you so much. I'm really grateful," Elsa said, meaning every single word from the bottom of her heart.
"Okay," he responded gently.
Elsa stepped out of the car. A small part of Silas still wanted to ask why she was in such a hurry, but he didn't. It wasn't his place to pry, even if he had just helped rescue her.
"Thank you so much once again," Elsa said, her hand resting on the car door, eager to put as much distance between herself and the night's horrors as possible.
"It's no problem," Silas replied, watching her.
"Thank you once again," she repeated, offering him an appreciative, understanding nod of acknowledgment before stepping fully onto the pavement.
As the car door shut, Elsa felt a rush of physical relief. She was far away from Jordin now. Yet, the fear that had gripped her while running through the chilled night air remained, leaving a heavy, lingering sadness in its wake. She had been stranded with no money—having fled the club in a blind panic to escape Jordin—and she honestly didn't know what she would have done had Silas not intervened. She didn't even know the name of the stranger who had saved her life.
Meanwhile, Silas watched her walk away, dressed in her purple shirt and black skirt. Despite his better judgment, a deep curiosity lingered. He turned back to his steering wheel, started the engine, and drove home. Deciding against his original plan to return to the club, he opted instead for a quiet cup of hot chocolate. As he drove through the empty streets, he still couldn't quite figure out why he had stopped to help her, but deep down, he was glad he did.
Elsa finally arrived at her apartment building, letting herself in with her key. She slipped quietly past the living room and peeked into Lucy's bedroom. Lucy was already fast asleep, her face visible beneath a cocoon of duvet. Elsa let out a silent sigh of relief; she didn't want her friend seeing her in such a disheveled, broken state.
Retreating to her own room, the full weight of the night crashed down on her. Shaken to her core and convinced that men were still hunting for her, she collapsed face-first onto her bed.
Now what?
Would she ever be able to show her face at the club again? After everything that had happened with Jordin—the slap, the humiliation, and the transactional intimacy she had subjected herself to—she felt deeply mortified, broken, and profoundly sad. Right there, curled tightly into her mattress in the dark, Elsa made up her mind: she was quitting her job at the club. The harrowing experience had opened her eyes to the rot beneath the glamour. These rich men were monsters, and she had been a fool to trade her body for a man's money. With that resolute thought echoing in her mind, she finally drifted off to sleep.
The next morning broke with a deep, dark-blue sky signaling dawn. Elsa woke up instantly, her eyes wide. She wasn't going to work today; she was quietly resigning from the club for good. Needing more rest, she turned onto her right side and dozed off again.
Hours later, it was nearly noon. Lucy was bustling around the apartment, preparing for work and grabbing her black tote bag. In the living room, Elsa sat on the couch, her legs crossed, a lingering trace of fear still haunting her eyes. She planned on resigning, and she had no intention of telling Lucy why. To Elsa, that workplace now felt filthy—a toxic environment of bad influences. Yet, entirely wrapped up in her own destination, Lucy failed to notice that anything was wrong with her friend.
"Bye, Elsa," Lucy called out as she headed for the door.
"Bye," Elsa replied curtly. The door clicked shut, and Lucy was gone.
A wave of bitter annoyance washed over Elsa. She had spent time sleeping with a jerk, and the sheer embarrassment of it crippled her. She couldn't even bring herself to confide in Lucy. She buried her face in her hands, resting them heavily on her knees as shame burned through her.
What would Lucy think of me? She'll think I'm tainted by sex... a slut.
Even though Lucy would never say it aloud, Elsa was terrified of being judged. She refused to let anyone view her as cheap, foolish, dirty, or tainted. Better to stay silent and bear the burden alone. It was the only way forward, as long as she could survive her stupid action.
In Elsa heart she was thankfully grateful to Silas who had saved her last night.
Then, a sudden realization hit her—she had left her phone locked inside her club locker. Thankfully, everything inside was secure. What if they fire me? she thought. It didn't matter. Even if termination was waiting for her, it was irrelevant. The only thing that mattered now was staying alive, standing strong, and rebuilding her shattered peace.
Miles away, sitting comfortably with his legs propped up on the couch, Silas watched television. With a glass of juice resting on the table and a plate of cookies within arm's reach, he lost himself in an animated movie.