Late September, 1899
It was dangerous at night. Emily knew that for a fact, for her father used to tell her that nightly. A little girl like her had no reason to wander around outside when she had a wonderful, loving father. So long ago that was. Now the girl at the mere age of sixteen, found herself alone and walking the streets of New York City at around 9:00 at night. The sun was long gone and the street lights showed her the way through the dirty streets. Although she was dressed poorly, she stubbornly walked on with her chin held high as the rich folk snubbed her.
'I'm not afraid of what other people think of me. I'm not street trash. I'm... I'm me, damnit. ME,' her mind yelled. Stepping her way around puddles, she again came to the realization that she had no money. 'No money equals no food. And no food equals no more me.' She knew she had learned something from her math lessons.
Leaning against an old worn down building, she held tight to her stomach as if it were going to drip through her hands and onto the dirty street. "Geez, would I do anything for a buck," she murmured to herself.
"Anyt'ing?" asked a raspy voice not far away from where Em stood. The girl started at the unwanted remark, and then turned her blazing hazel eyes on the person who had spoken.
"No, ya bum. I was being sarcastic." She said icily, glaring at the man who was standing about 3 yards away from her. He was well dressed with slicked back hair, who wore shiny shoes and a grin on his face. 'A cheesy grin' her pop would have said. It looked like you would have to cut it with a knife just to get through to the other side. The man smirked at her and shambled over to where she stood. Taking every step carefully, he looked her up and down, apparently interested in what he saw. Self consciously, Em pulled her thin over coat around her tighter so he wouldn't be able to see her bare skin.
"I t'ought I hoid ya say ya needed money, me deah. I t'ink I could 'ave a position open for ya." He said, reaching out to brush her check with a clean and manicured finger. Emily stepped away easily and continued to glare at him. Whatever this man wanted, it certainly wasn't a friendly conversation.
"I don't want a job from you. I don't want anything to do with your business." Emily said. 'Don't lose your cool now, Em. Don't do it.' She reminded herself.
"You don' even know what I do. I have many goils who make lotsa money. 'Dey get somet'in, an' I get somet'in." he purred at her, all of the while moving closer.
"Whores, you mean." Emily spat at him, puffing her chest out and standing up straighter to show that she was not afraid. She was terrified, though, and she could feel herself walking backwards into the dark, farther from the world and into hell.
"Whores?" he questioned innocently with a chuckle. "'Dey ain't whores, me deah. 'Dey's a profit. An' you could make a lotta dough... if ya would just... let me size ya up." With that last remark he snatched her arms and pulled her close. She could smell his minty breath, but underneath that sweet scent there was something horrid. A sick smell almost like mildew. Rotting paper... and even rotting flesh.
"Get your dirty hands off of me!" she growled, shoving him as hard as her strength would allow. He stumbled, but wouldn't release her. Instead, he held fast to her with one hand around her waist. His other hand traveled down her back, making her skin crawl and her head swim.
"Shush, me deah," he breathed into her ear. Em recoiled from the devilish man who seemed to want more than an employee at that moment. 'No way, no way siree.' her mind whispered furiously as her eyes darted around for someone to scream and run to. Seeing no one around her, her panic rose. She began to thrust her fists onto the man's chest, shrieking harsh words that she had never even heard before. They sounded like they fit the moment. Blood appeared on the man's face where her hands tore at his skin, making him look even more like a devil. He grinned down at her and pushed her hard against the wall, knocking the air out of her lungs.
He let her go as she slumped against the cold brick in a daze. "What are you doing now, eh, scum? You want to run now?" she muttered, focusing all her attention on not shaking with fear. Her teeth chattered with the effort and her heart pounded furiously in her ears. Blue dots swam in front of her eyes and she blinked furiously to make them go away. She was definitely going to be sore tomorrow. If tomorrow was to be, that is.
"My deah, I'se gunna give ya da ride of a lifetime." He said triumphantly, grinning like an idiot. Her vision finally cleared, and it was replaced by a sudden headache and the return of her stomach pains. Looking up at him, she saw that he was horrendously ugly. His eyes were small and beady and his nose was crooked and too long for his face. He had released her to, without a doubt, undo his pants. 'Well, too bad for him,' Emily thought with a slight smile as she continued to act as if she was too dizzy to pay attention to the man.
With the quickness of someone who had time for practice, she braced herself against the wall and lifted her legs up in the air with the grace of a cat. Striking the man square in the chest, he gave an "OOF!" of surprise as he fell backwards, hitting his ugly head on the road.
Emily gave a sigh of relief and carefully stood up. Instinctively crouching down on the ground, she moved slowly over to the man like a lioness on the hunt. Her hazel eyes caught the light from a street lamp, and amplified their beauty. She made her way over to the man and kicked him in the ribs hard enough to hear ribs crack inside his ugly and distorted body. "That will teach you to call me "My Deah", you bum." She muttered, reaching into his pockets in the search for something more useful then revenge. Finding what she wanted, she stuffed a few bills and coins into her coat pocket and smiled grimly at the man.
"Today just wasn't your day. Now was it, my dear?" She asked the still body. Then she turned and walked quickly out of the alley, making her way back into the dark streets of New York City.
fin
It was dangerous at night. Emily knew that for a fact, for her father used to tell her that nightly. A little girl like her had no reason to wander around outside when she had a wonderful, loving father. So long ago that was. Now the girl at the mere age of sixteen, found herself alone and walking the streets of New York City at around 9:00 at night. The sun was long gone and the street lights showed her the way through the dirty streets. Although she was dressed poorly, she stubbornly walked on with her chin held high as the rich folk snubbed her.
'I'm not afraid of what other people think of me. I'm not street trash. I'm... I'm me, damnit. ME,' her mind yelled. Stepping her way around puddles, she again came to the realization that she had no money. 'No money equals no food. And no food equals no more me.' She knew she had learned something from her math lessons.
Leaning against an old worn down building, she held tight to her stomach as if it were going to drip through her hands and onto the dirty street. "Geez, would I do anything for a buck," she murmured to herself.
"Anyt'ing?" asked a raspy voice not far away from where Em stood. The girl started at the unwanted remark, and then turned her blazing hazel eyes on the person who had spoken.
"No, ya bum. I was being sarcastic." She said icily, glaring at the man who was standing about 3 yards away from her. He was well dressed with slicked back hair, who wore shiny shoes and a grin on his face. 'A cheesy grin' her pop would have said. It looked like you would have to cut it with a knife just to get through to the other side. The man smirked at her and shambled over to where she stood. Taking every step carefully, he looked her up and down, apparently interested in what he saw. Self consciously, Em pulled her thin over coat around her tighter so he wouldn't be able to see her bare skin.
"I t'ought I hoid ya say ya needed money, me deah. I t'ink I could 'ave a position open for ya." He said, reaching out to brush her check with a clean and manicured finger. Emily stepped away easily and continued to glare at him. Whatever this man wanted, it certainly wasn't a friendly conversation.
"I don't want a job from you. I don't want anything to do with your business." Emily said. 'Don't lose your cool now, Em. Don't do it.' She reminded herself.
"You don' even know what I do. I have many goils who make lotsa money. 'Dey get somet'in, an' I get somet'in." he purred at her, all of the while moving closer.
"Whores, you mean." Emily spat at him, puffing her chest out and standing up straighter to show that she was not afraid. She was terrified, though, and she could feel herself walking backwards into the dark, farther from the world and into hell.
"Whores?" he questioned innocently with a chuckle. "'Dey ain't whores, me deah. 'Dey's a profit. An' you could make a lotta dough... if ya would just... let me size ya up." With that last remark he snatched her arms and pulled her close. She could smell his minty breath, but underneath that sweet scent there was something horrid. A sick smell almost like mildew. Rotting paper... and even rotting flesh.
"Get your dirty hands off of me!" she growled, shoving him as hard as her strength would allow. He stumbled, but wouldn't release her. Instead, he held fast to her with one hand around her waist. His other hand traveled down her back, making her skin crawl and her head swim.
"Shush, me deah," he breathed into her ear. Em recoiled from the devilish man who seemed to want more than an employee at that moment. 'No way, no way siree.' her mind whispered furiously as her eyes darted around for someone to scream and run to. Seeing no one around her, her panic rose. She began to thrust her fists onto the man's chest, shrieking harsh words that she had never even heard before. They sounded like they fit the moment. Blood appeared on the man's face where her hands tore at his skin, making him look even more like a devil. He grinned down at her and pushed her hard against the wall, knocking the air out of her lungs.
He let her go as she slumped against the cold brick in a daze. "What are you doing now, eh, scum? You want to run now?" she muttered, focusing all her attention on not shaking with fear. Her teeth chattered with the effort and her heart pounded furiously in her ears. Blue dots swam in front of her eyes and she blinked furiously to make them go away. She was definitely going to be sore tomorrow. If tomorrow was to be, that is.
"My deah, I'se gunna give ya da ride of a lifetime." He said triumphantly, grinning like an idiot. Her vision finally cleared, and it was replaced by a sudden headache and the return of her stomach pains. Looking up at him, she saw that he was horrendously ugly. His eyes were small and beady and his nose was crooked and too long for his face. He had released her to, without a doubt, undo his pants. 'Well, too bad for him,' Emily thought with a slight smile as she continued to act as if she was too dizzy to pay attention to the man.
With the quickness of someone who had time for practice, she braced herself against the wall and lifted her legs up in the air with the grace of a cat. Striking the man square in the chest, he gave an "OOF!" of surprise as he fell backwards, hitting his ugly head on the road.
Emily gave a sigh of relief and carefully stood up. Instinctively crouching down on the ground, she moved slowly over to the man like a lioness on the hunt. Her hazel eyes caught the light from a street lamp, and amplified their beauty. She made her way over to the man and kicked him in the ribs hard enough to hear ribs crack inside his ugly and distorted body. "That will teach you to call me "My Deah", you bum." She muttered, reaching into his pockets in the search for something more useful then revenge. Finding what she wanted, she stuffed a few bills and coins into her coat pocket and smiled grimly at the man.
"Today just wasn't your day. Now was it, my dear?" She asked the still body. Then she turned and walked quickly out of the alley, making her way back into the dark streets of New York City.
fin