So this is probably going to suck, but whatever, right? Um... so what do I say... hope you like it? "Hope you like it" my ass. I don't know. It's Bechloe. Basic plot: Beca Mitchell, an asexual (for multiple reasons) prostitute (not by choice), finally coughs up enough money to rent an apartment. From streets to a cold room with a window that's jammed open and only one pillow with no sheets, she attempts to escape from the sexual abuse and crazy people with drugs, but a redhead who lives downstairs hears someone playing guitar and knows they are way too good to be wasting her life away.

Welp. Hope y'all like it I guess. :)

A gust of wind blew through the streets, Beca Mitchell shivered. She had a violent fever, but sat through it on the concrete sidewalk in the winter of New York City. Her only belongings were a pair of dark jeans, a t-shirt, a sweatshirt, some tattered sneakers, and a guitar. The calluses on the tips of her fingers from playing guitar for every night for the past three years kept her hand warm, while the other hand was constantly being blown on with warm air from her mouth. She laid the guitar in her lap for a moment to adust her sitting position. After checking the tuning, her cold fingers picked at the top strings while her other skillfully danced up and down the neck. She lifted her head up to look at the sunset, but kept playing equally as well than looking. A boy and someone who Beca assumes was his mother walked by, the boy, maybe three or four, stared at the homeless woman. She gave him a polite smile and in return he flashed a wide grin before looking up to his mother who was talking on the phone, dragging him along.

Beca was not the typical homeless woman. In fact, she was in an unavoidable mess. She had never spoken about to anyone, and no one truely knew how she gotten mixed up in everything, not even her mother, the one who she blamed. When her mother left her husband of ten years for a woman Beca was furious at just nine years old. She never wanted anything to do with homosexuals, lucky for her and others around her she lived in Maine, so the population of homos wasn't as many as other places. Her father was also upset. As Beca was a spitting image of Emily Mitchell, her father changed after Emily left them. He found himself wanting to rip off his belt and hit his daughter until she was motionless, and that he did after trying to hold back the feeling for a few months, making Beca want nothing to do with men, making her feel no sexual desire for anyone. Francis Mitchell was overflowing with hatred for himself and for everything around him, resulting to quitting his job and drinking himself to death when Beca was seventeen and almost eighteen. So she lived alone in southern Maine, underaged using her mother's name for paying bills and such. Emotionally exhausted, she would would have episodes of pure depression and other times where she found herself clenching her jaw at night until four in the morning, which wasnt really night anymore. She never told anyone about her father's death. No one ever found out, his job was about an hour and a half away. Whenever someone would ask who she lived with she would say her grandmother, but truth was that her grandmother died at age forty from pneumonia. No one ever found out. No one ever asked who's grave was in her backyard and she never told anyone.

With no money Beca had tried hard to work three jobs in the apartment she managed to get while still using her father's money in Boston. With no college education, it was difficult to find one, so when two of the jobs laid her off for someone better her life completely went downhill. She found herself being asked by men to have sex and that they would even pay her. She jumped at the "pay you" part and didn't think of the consequences. So when the last job finally laid her off for similar reasons, she turned to the disliked prostitution by night and the guitar she had had the entire time with her by day. Slowly, she made money. She hated the men that would come up to her in the night and she hated every second of the sex. She hated everyone, not thinking there was anyone who could make her feel loved. She was tired and hungry all the time, she wanted to die, but not without trying her best to create a normal life.

The sun was only had a sliver over the buildings. Beca was dreading the night, seeing as it was a Friday, but she was so, so close to being done with it all, being able to run away from her usual streets and land in an apartment.

The sun was far down and the guitarist was in the middle of her last song with a small crowd of four people. A sparkling eyed redhead walked cautiously down the street, probably nervous from all of the sketchy people hanging around.

And in the pipe she flies to the motherland

Beca's quiet sing filled the air, which made the approaching redhead slow down.

Or sells love to another man

It's too cold outside

For angels to fly

Beca's voice threatened to crack as she listened to herself sing, but choked it all down, like every other time someone had requested that particular song.

An angel will die

Covered in white

The fiery haired woman listened in, almost stopping once she was behind the four people. Her eyebrows furrowed and her face with a thoughtful look at the ground, then a quick glance at Beca, but the musician had noticed her attempt at inconspicuousness as she finished the song. Three out of the four people left a tip, one person being with another so they had the excuse. But Beca was offended that the ginger had listened to almost an entire song, but not had left even a smile. Usually Beca was indifferent about how a person felt about her music, maybe a group she cared, but never just one person. She wanted to pull the red back to her and show her that she was worth giving even just a dollar to. But Beca wasn't worth a dollar, she was worth more.

It was almost midnight, meaning the small girl had to go to her spot where men could go to her. Waiting around for half an hour someone came to her. "What are you willing to offer?" the woman asked.

"Ehm... how 'bout 350 bucks for an hour? Sound good?" the man reasoned. "It's just me and a couple friends tonight."

Beca's face lit at the price it was almost a hundred dollars above what she needed to get the apartment. "Yeah, yeah. Of course," she replied lightly. "Some dances only I'm guessing and just that boner-making bullshit?"

He laughed, being able to tell she was excited. He took her arm as they walk a few blocks down. "I don't often find people with your duty to be so excited. What's the motive?"

Not wanting to say much about herself Beca said, "Um, you know. Personal reasons. I just... 350 is quite a bit, don't you think? I mean, I'm not complaining, but yeah..."

The man furrowed his brow. "It's boys' night, it's supposed to be expensive," he paused a moment. "Right?"

He opened the door an apartment. "I guess."

The apartment was mostly empty, only three chairs, two taken, were in the tiny living room area. The man who had taken her in sat in the last chair sighing. Beca really put herself to her best, hoping for a tip at the end. Her only thoughts the entire time were "One. Last. Time. This is it! Get me a real bed to sleep in all by my fucking self."

The last dance finished and the guys complimented her on her body and sent her out the door with Seven hundred in cash, plus fifty as a tip. Her thighs killed from all the moves she had done. Finally. She was free.

Since it would've been suspicious with the police if she had gone then for a room, Beca stayed on the street one last time. She slumped down on a side of a corner and cradled her instrument. Eyelids heavy, she had a dream.

Francis whipped his belt out of their holes and brought his arm back. She was on the floor in the middle of the bathroom while he slashed her arms and legs. Another man came with red eyes, drugged, to make her give him head, slamming her small frame against a bed. Through all of the pain she closed her eyes to open them again and see her mother with another woman. Emily was pushing down on Beca's head, sweetly but the way someone would do to a dog. It disgusted her. She tried hard to pull back the heated tears but they filled her eyes. She closed them to open them agin to being drowned in a bathtub. Beca had attempted suicide after her father, but was saved by her soap bar falling into the water. She always looked back to hate herself even more and wished she had just let the bar fall and should've ignored it and killed herself already, but outof habit she picked it up and pulled herself out of the water and put it back on the little shelf. Feeling stupid after, she didn't go through with it. She hated herself everyday for it. In the dream though, a voice called out "Beca?" it was a sweet, vaguely familiar voice.

She awoke, not used to being called by her name. It was a strange, but frequent dream. Suddebly she remembered what had happened the night before. She picked up her guitar to go get her apartment.

It's kinda wierd making Beca a prostitute. I pretty much just got the idea from listening to The A Team by Ed Sheeran, which was the song she sang. Please do tell if I should keep going. And sorry if there are some bad typos, I don't like autocorrect so I never have it on. Chloe will probably be properly introduced in either the third chapter or in the late of the next. Thanks for reading and... hope you liked it! ;)