Worth Saving(23)

“No, what I meant was, get the f*ck out right now,” he snips. He says it calmly, which is more intimidating than if he would’ve yelled. Marlene doesn’t argue, she just gets up and slowly walks out. I can tell she’s not going to leave, though, and I’m glad.

“So,” Damien begins, glaring at me once Marlene is out the door. “What happened last night?”

I scrunch my forehead. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“No? You had a paying customer last night, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Right, well that’s what I’m talking about. So, what happened last night?”

“Nothing,” I answer honestly, because I really don’t know what he might be referring to.

“Interesting. From what I hear, the customer that paid for you last night didn’t get what he paid for.”

“What? That’s bullshit. I went to his house, and I did what he wanted. So, that’s bullshit, Damien.”

He furrows his brow and stares me in the eye. I suddenly feel sick to my stomach.

“I find it funny that you’re telling me what’s bullshit, and not the other way around,” he jabs. “The customer paid for you to spend the night with him. Is that what happened?”

I have to think about it, but I realize he’s right. Shit.

“Well, not exactly, but when I left, that guy was asleep. So, I don’t see the problem.”

“You don’t see the problem? Of course not. You never seem to see what the problem is whenever you make one of these command decisions without my f*cking approval.”

“It’s not like that, Damien,” I plead. “I did what I was supposed to do, and once he was asleep, I left. I usually leave first thing in the morning, but last night I just decided to leave once he was asleep. What’s the harm in that if I still did what he wanted?”

Damien suddenly takes a step closer to me, and without hesitation, he reaches back and sends his fist flying into my stomach. I feel like my insides just exploded as I clutch my gut and fall to the floor, gasping for air. The edges of my vision turn dark gray as Damien kneels down next to me.

“You stupid f*cking bitch,” he growls in my face, his breath stinks with stale liquor. “The harm in it is the customer paid to stay with you all night, and you’re not supposed to leave until the morning, just in case he wants to f*ck you again when he wakes up. All night, means all f*cking night, Layla. You don’t get to decide when you can leave. I do. When I have customers calling and asking why you left, that’s bad for business. So, I need you to stop trying to make decisions on your own, accept the fact that you’re a f*cking idiot, and get your shit together before I really get upset. Do you understand?”

He glares at me as I lay there, still gasping for air. I think to get up, but the look on his face pins me down. I’m paralyzed with fear, and I wouldn’t dare make him any madder.

“I understand,” I reply, my voice weak and shaking as I begin to cry.

“Good. Now get the f*ck up and go home. Enjoy your day off tomorrow.” With that, Damien stands up and walks out, leaving me there on the floor.

After Damien is gone, I see Marlene come rushing back into the club. She looks scared and pissed off at the same time as she kneels down next to me and tries to help me up.

“God dammit. That f*cking bastard,” she says as she grips my shoulder to comfort me. “Are you okay?”

I’m still struggling to take in air, but I manage to utter some words. “I’m okay. I’m fine.”

“I f*cking hate that *,” she says as I stand up and dust myself off, my stomach still in excruciating pain.

“Me too.”

“Come on,” Marlene says, leading me towards the door. “Let’s get the f*ck outta here.”



It’s three-thirty in the morning. I sit on my bed and wrap my arms across my stomach, still writhing in pain from the punch.

What is it about men that makes them need to assert their dominance over women? What is it about being violent that makes them feel like they’ve proven something—like they’ve somehow come into their manhood by being a complete douche and treating another human being like shit? Men have to have a certain feeling of control over everything they touch, or it breaks them from the inside out. Take away that control, and they feel weak. They’re powerless without it. Maybe that’s why Damien is the way he is. Even though he’s as wide as a house, he’s still insecure, and that’s why he has to bully us and terrify us every night. He doesn’t do it because he truly believes he needs to, to keep things in line. He does it because it makes him feel good to have that much control and power over that many people, even if we are smaller and weaker than him. I’m starting to think that if anyone ever stood up to him, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. If anyone thought he wasn’t in control, he’d probably lose his mind. The only problem is that no one is brave enough to test that theory. Damien knows what he’s doing. He rules the basement of Red Pony with an iron fist, and it’s to the point now that no one would even try to quit, out of fear he might do something to them. When you work for Damien, he owns you until he doesn’t want to anymore. You have no say in it.

By four o’clock, I’m still not tired. Maybe it’s the left over adrenaline from the drama that went down less than an hour ago, or maybe I’m just an insomniac. Either way, my mind is running too fast for me to lay down and go to sleep. So, I decide to take a walk. I’m not sure how far, but getting out of this room is more comforting than being in it. So, I put on some sweatpants and a burgundy sweater and start for the door. When I reach it, I stop there as a thought pops into my mind.