Settling in the human city was harder than I thought. Or maybe I didn't even think about it or how I knew nothing about them or their city at all except for what I've seen in movies.
And let me say, it was not like in the movies at all. At all.
The first week was very hard. I had no money, no place to stay and no job. And getting job was almost impossible because I had no means of identification and apparently that was very important here.
I didn't know anybody to vouch for me either so I was declined in all different place I went to.
But without a job in the human world, one couldn't earn money and without money…you simply cannot live. I learnt that on the very first day…in a very hard way.
I skipped Ashton town the very next day I got to the place and went north to Alton. I had sneaked into a delivery van because I overheard two women talking about how the city was far bigger than Ashton.
And yes, it was but it was almost the same thing with the small town. Because almost every job required a small card that dictates one's identity. Almost every job except clubs apparently.
And that was exactly how I ended here.
" Two shots of tequila mix and a bottle of rum. Table 6". I yelled over the loud music to the orange haired bartender behind the bar.
He nodded, grabbing the cup to mix in the orders and I sighed, taking that as a moment to rest.
The loud, blaring music did nothing to subdue the headache I was having and I just couldn't wait for this shift to be over.
" Gigi". "Gigi"
Being called a different name was harder to get used to than I thought —I had blurt out the very first thing that came to my mind when the manager asked for my name, which happened to be the same name I heard a woman called her friend just at the entrance of the club.
Which is why I didn't realise I was the one Ren was calling for until he shook my shoulder.
He gave me a weird look before asking " Are you alright? Your face seems kind of pale…
I shook my head, offering a light smile " I'm ok…the club seems crowdy today". My eyes moved to the tons of sweaty humans dancing and vibing to the lod music. There was never a day I did not wonder why they always seems to be excited every night just to rub their sweaty body against another.
Ren chuckles at the way my face at scrunched up in disgust. He shifted a cup to me, letting it graze my have" Have a shot. You'll find it easier to go through the night with it".
"Thanks". I muttered, raising the glass cup with my hand. But the moment I brought it closer to my mouth, I gagged. The unquesy feeling in my lower stomach intensified and I felt it rise to hit tge back of my throat.
I would've spilled my entire stomach on the floor if I had not quickly dropped the glass and rushed outside, towards the staff restroom.
————
I gripped the edges of the sink and stared straight into my reflection.
Fuck, I looked terrible.
My skin was pale and I knew that the dim restroom light wasn't entirely responsible for it. Coupled with the dark circles under my eyes that had been getting worse every morning for the past week. My hair was a mess from the shift and there was a faint sheen of sweat on my forehead that I wiped away with the back of my hand.
I turned the tap and rinsed my mouth out. Spat and rinsed again.
This was the third time this week.
The third time I had abandoned my tray mid-shif and made a run for the nearest bathroom. The first time I had blamed the leftover pizza I had eaten at two in the morning. The second time I had blamed the heat inside the club, the bodies and the noise and the recycled air that always smelled like liquor.
Now I was running out of things to blame.
I gripped the sink harder and looked at myself properly.
Think, I told myself. Be honest. When did this start.
Three weeks ago, maybe four. The nausea. The tiredness that came from working two shifts and even enough sleeps doesn't cure it anymore.
To think about it, the sensitivity to smell had started around the same time. I never had a problem with liquor before but the smell alone these days has created a permanent nausea feeling in my stomach.
I shook my head, ignoring the thought that had been sitting at the very back of my mind for two weeks
No….
It can't be….
But the more I thought about it, the more possible it became. My stomach turned over and it had nothing to do with the nausea this time.
I pressed both hands flat on the sink and breathed through my nose slowly, the way I had been practicing since I got here.
Hold for four. Out for four.
It didn't help.
There was a knock on the restroom door.
"Gigi." Ren's voice. Muffled through the door but the concern in it was not subtle. "You okay in there? You've been gone a while."
"I'm fine," I called back. "Two minutes."
"You sure? Because you looked really—"
"Two minutes, Ren."
A pause. Then his footsteps retreating back toward the noise of the club.
I looked at myself in the mirror again.
I could be wrong. No. I am wrong.
This is only happening because I am stressed and underfed and working too many hours in a loud club and it was doing things to my system that had nothing to do with — with anything else.
I am wrong.
I straightened up my uniform before hardening my glare at the girl in the mirror.
You're wrong.
But she looked unconvinced.