The Toxic Club
Chapter one: Bittersweet World
"In this, bittersweet world,
closets full of skeletons,
I'm a, bittersweet girl;
demons out to get me as I, stand alone."
-Bittersweet World by Ashlee Simpson
Dancing. That was all my feeble mind could comprehend from the scene in front of me. The blinking neon sign that read, Toxic. The name of the ever-famous club in New York City, my home for the last two months. Sure, my English wasn't all that great, but it was better than some of my friends. I was an Italian immigrant, not even legally here. The coyote, or so he was called, had brought us to America. Me and Alice, my best friend.
"Bella!" Alice cried to me, her Italian accent so much thicker than mine, as she pointed to the nightclub that stood tall and intimidating across the street. "Let's go!" she said, giggling and grabbing at my hand, pulling me across one of the few crosswalks that New York had to offer, or at least New York City. I groaned slightly in agony, not wanting to face my fears of going into a night club and possibly getting grabbed by the butt again, that already having happened six times today alone.
She walked up to the bouncer, smiling seductively at him, her tiny frame swaying slightly while I rolled my eyes, the tall, thickly built man looking her up and down as he lifted the velvet rope and let us in, the long line on the side yelling in anger that we got in so easily.
The heavy smell of alcohol and cigars smothered the air, making me want to gag, the hypnotic beat of Paramore's, Emergency blasting on the speakers – one of the few songs I actually liked from this country. Alice, one of the nicest yet talkative people in the world, quickly mingled in with the crowd while I stood still. It was too warm in the club, and for once, I was glad for the skimpy outfit that Alice had dressed me in; a red, leather, micro mini skirt and a form-fitting, black shirt with a lose-fitting sleeve, the other side being only a gold chain connected to the front and back of the shirt just so it hung on my shoulder.
I jumped as I felt a finger tap my un-clothed shoulder, and turned to see a waitress with a silver, metal platter with empty martini glasses. "Apple Martini, two please." I said slowly, drawing out my words so you couldn't hear the accent as much. She nodded and turned away from me, soon returning with two drinks that I grabbed politely, giving one to Alice. She threw hers down quickly, grinning as she put it back onto the tray, the waitress not even having left. "Another please." she said simply, turning to see a man with brown hair ask her to dance. She nodded feverishly and scampered off with him. Sighing, I took a sip of my drink and walked off to the main bar and taking a seat on one of the lined up stools, very few people sitting on them.
This was a bad idea. I thought to myself. No one'd even tried to ask me to dance yet, as I'd assumed would happen; and it wasn't even that I would have said yes, I just would have liked to have the offer is all. My bland facial features were nothing special, completely plain, my brown eyes dull, my hair mangy and wild. I looked out over the club, biting back tears almost that there were nearly 30 men in the club that were alone and just standing around, some even looking directly at me and turning away, and I still hadn't gotten asked to dance.
I looked over to Alice to see her grinding against the man like a fucking whore and my eyes nearly bugged out of my head. She was so tiny, that two drinks could easily get her drunk now, not being used to drinking from the strict rules of her family back home. Her lips were locked with the man, his hands on her butt and pulling her closer to him.
Nope. Not happening. I walked over to her, and grabbed her free hand, the other tangled in his hair, and pulling her away from the man as she yelled in protest. "I want to stay!" she said, grumbling. How often this was happening lately was getting rather annoying. Nearly every night, she brought home a new guy, me on one side of the taxi and Alice and whoever it was on the other, practically having sex(an act always committed when the taxi stopped at out apartment). It wasn't that she was a slut, it was just the fact we were both twenty-one and still virgins before we came to the U.S.
We broke out from the back door into an alley-way, and I noticed the smell of cigarettes was stronger. A familiar voice with a sewed-on Italian accent coloring my ears, saying, "Well, well, well, look what we have here." I looked up and smiled lightly. "Hey Gene.." I said, nervous by what he wanted, the fact he wanted something clear in his tone of voice. Even Alice had froze from this. "You know, you girls never paid me back for smuggling you in here. Now how would you feel if somehow immigration found out about that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking at us.
I gulped.
No.
I knew so well that this was coming, that someway we'd have to pay him back, that was why I gave him the wrong address for our home, so he couldn't come and try to threaten us for his money. I just knew that somehow it would backfire. Almost in sync, Alice and I took off running, and I tripped on my heels, falling to the ground, my skirt tearing up the side, showing the lacy fabric of my underwear as I screamed in pain. "I think I broke my leg," I gasped to Alice, who had stopped. Looking back at Gene, I tried to crawl away as the giant man came walking towards us, a menacing look on his face.
I got to my feet barely, groaning in pain and limping away, trying to escape him. "Help!" I screamed into the dead of the night, not knowing what would happen now that we'd tried to run. He easily caught up to us, grabbing me by the chin and pulling me up straight to look at him, and a low whimper escaped my lips. "You'll be first." he said, smirking at me evilly and grabbed us both by the arms, his robot-like grip almost hurting as tears of pain slipped down my cheeks. He threw us into the back of a black SUV, him climbing in too and calling to the driver to go to the warehouse.
I felt the rest of my skirt get ripped off completely, my underwear going with it as the manacle man pulled down his pants and boxers, shoving himself within me as tears continued to stream down my cheeks. He pumped in and out of me, and I felt my virginity slowly breaking, and I started to sob, when he pulled himself out of me, doing the same to Alice – though she was blacked out now. I pulled the remains of my thong back on, my skirt able to be tucked into the string at the top so it would hold, and I crawled limply over to the corner of the van, pulling my knees to my chest despite the pain, the white of my bone showing, and rested my head against the un-injured leg, sobbing continuously.
The car stopped, and Gene got out, and I leaned forward to the door of the trunk that was now open, and he slammed it shut. I bit back even more tears, crawling over to Alice and shaking her repeatedly, trying to wake my best friend who's lower half of her body was nude. "Alice, wake up. Alice, please, wake up." I said, shaking her roughly, and checked her neck pulse with my fingers, my breathing hitched and throbbing, a lump in my throat forming as it just barely moved on underneath my fingers.
"Bella," a cracked voice whispered, and I knew it was as loud as she could get it.
"I'm here, Alice." I said, my hair falling in tendrils around my face, making me look like one of the broken women you know had just suffered greatly when you see them. I could see my reflection in the blue of Alice's eyes, my mascara running wild down my face, eyeliner smudged off and my light coat of lipstick rubbed off. It was pathetic. I was pathetic.
"I don't think I'll last." she said, breaking my trance. And it was true; her pulse dropping even more by the minute, begging to give out. Collapsing under all the pressure this was giving me, I bit back sobs, knowing that this was the lowest moment I'd had in my life. Locks of my almost-curly hair fell onto her stomach, and I felt my whole body shaking from the tears that I wouldn't let fall – I wouldn't let the final sealing of a terrible life hold me hostage.
The large back doors of the van opened and bright fluorescent lights flooded my vision, blinding me to no end. "Ugh!" I said, squinting as my eyes adjusted. I tried to shrink back as a large man dressed in black from head to toe reached in to pull me out. As I protested, the long, thick arms didn't cease to grab me by the hips and successfully pull me out, standing me upright.
Flinching as Gene lifted a hand tenderly to my cheek, caressing it with his thumb, I could feel the sting of his last slap all so long ago. Why was the man doing this? Why couldn't he let me be? It was such a tragedy, such a menacing thought that this was the one who had saved me, or at least I thought of it like that. But everyone on that stow-away trip had to pay. And my bill hadn't been fully payed for, so this was punishment. There simply was no other way to put it.
Why, oh why couldn't this wretched man just kill me right there?! It would have been so much better than this. For, I knew what this was. It was so well known back in Italy, that if you got to the America's, if you were a woman of my age, you would be sent to one of these facilities for prostitution. But this was a different type. Not the kind you chose to work for, but something mandatory.
This, was human trafficking.
