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"…Stella, can you hand me those hair pins?"

"…can barely fit my breasts in this…"

"…did you see how he looked at you?"

"…Rosie, help me put this on, please…"

"…did you hear? She's one of the goddesses…"

"…I could never…"

"…they're all swine…"

"…but they give you money…"

"…Mary, aren't you doing Mr. William tonight?"

"…I can't believe you did that…"

"…they're all so easy to lure…"

"…men are monsters…"

She stared at her reflection with large, sapphire blue eyes. All around her, she could hear the chittering voices of every other girl who was getting ready to perform just like herself. Through the dimly lit up vanity mirror that had yellow-hued light bulbs all along the rectangular brim, she could see several of the other girls changing their skimpy outfits to another, more so revealing ensemble than the last. Sequins and expensive jewelry glittered all around her, creating an ocean of sparkles. The air was so thick with the smell of perfume that the room appeared slightly foggy. Or maybe her eyes were just playing tricks on her due to too much intoxication from the hypnotizing smell? She wasn't sure.

"Hey, Mirajane, aren't you a Demon?"

The sapphire-eyed girl looked over to her right at the voluptuous girl getting ready beside her who was dressed in a blood red, satin corset with matching underpants and black stockings with straps that attached to the corset. Her long, scarlet hair was tied up in a high ponytail and she was currently reapplying cherry red lipstick to her lips. Since she was a Vampire, the masquerade mask she currently wore was black and lacy with small crystals; it silhouetted a bat with its wings framing her eyes in intricate swirls that had a spiky elegance to it.

"I think they just called for all the Demons to go backstage to get ready," the scarlet-haired girl informed.

"Oh. Really?" Mirajane turned to look around her, and sure enough, the majority of the Demons had already left. She abruptly stood up and reached for the lipstick at her station. Leaning towards the mirror, she uncapped the black container and applied the burgundy cream to her lips. Her wavy, long starlight white hair fell over her delicate shoulders in the process. When she was satisfied with her application, she rubbed her lips together and put the lipstick's cap back on. Looking around, she then found her Demon masquerade mask and put it on. As she fixed her hair, she waved to the scarlet-haired girl before rushing off to backstage.

.

With their lecherous, drunken stares, she emotionlessly performed on stage with the other Demons, making each movement painfully slow and tantalizing. Throughout the large, dimly lit room that casted off dark shades of red, blue, and violet, she could see several dark figures sitting in the booths that surrounded the stage she stood on. This was how those dark figures managed to keep their identity unknown to one another—by keeping this world dark like the Hell it was. For those who didn't belong in the same class, but a whole other one in the underworld with just as much power, if not that, then more, they freely lounged on the cushioned seats directly in front of the stage, silently discussing their dark deeds and deals. Despite how used to it she was to this dark atmosphere, her heart still always pounded in her chest, begging for her to stop. To leave. Telling her she was better than this…but what could she do? She was desperate. And because of the reason to her desperateness, she was willing to expose herself like this. She was willing to put up with feeling absolutely disgusted with herself. She was willing to feel vulnerable in front of all of these strangers—to all of these monsters.

She took in a deep breath. The air was filled with alcohol, as usual. Sighing, she closed her eyes and imagined this was all just an overly realistic nightmare. But she knew that in her actual nightmares, they were much more terrifying than the truth she currently had to live. At least here, she had some control.

And so, as the sleazy music continued to play on and her dignity cracked just a little more, the tears she could no longer cry ghosted down her cheeks the rest of the night.

.

"See you Thursday night, Mirajane," the scarlet-haired girl said as she waved goodbye. She no longer was dressed scantily nor had her hair tied up, now donning a navy blue dress and black dress coat, looking exactly as she had when she first arrived the night before at 11:00 P.M.

"Yeah, see you later, Erza!" Mirajane grinned brightly, momentarily waving back before focusing her attention at her reflection in the mirror and continuing to tie her bangs back up out of her face with a small, black bow hair tie. "Get home safely," she added, her smile softening as she glanced over briefly at the departing girl.

A gentle smile formed on Erza's face, and she looked down to the ground. Her hands tightened around the handles to her unnecessarily large black purse she always carried with her. She wasn't content with the situation…but it was what it was. And there was no way either of them would be escaping this reality until someone saved them. For Erza, Mirajane knew she secretly wanted her savior to be a handsome prince in shining armor—someone she could fall in love with and live happily ever after with.

She only hoped Erza's dream would come true. She liked to believe it wasn't that far away from her reach. But in her heart, she knew the unforgiving distance it really was.

"Yeah," Erza softly spoke. "You get home safely, too. I hope your sister gets well soon." And with that said, she walked out of the large dressing room, no longer a Vampire, but an ordinary girl returning to her life of poverty. At least she no longer was homeless or alone and took shelter in her own, personal room. It wasn't an uncommon fate here. Almost all the girls that worked here shared her same lifestyle. For those desperate to live in this world, this place offered a way to earn money and a small room you could dorm in until you could carry your own weight or no longer was eligible to work in this kind of place. Of course, it wasn't all for free. There was a heavy price you had to pay, and it wasn't one you could earn back easily if that was even possible.

Unlike the majority that worked here, however, Mirajane was slightly better off. She already had her own condo space she shared with her siblings, even though it was a fairly tiny, rundown condominium and it wasn't even in a respectable area in this small city; it was located where not even the lower class were, but those beneath that, nearby the red-light district. The only good thing about this was that it made a short travel for her when it came to going or returning from work—but she didn't care about that. She was more concerned with the addicting temptations that could easily ensnare her siblings—more specifically, her younger brother. And while the work she did wasn't the best example to set, it's not like her siblings understood what she meant when she said, "Don't worry, it's just dancing. I'm just acting as a performer." Which that was the truth. For the most part, at least. The only thing wrong was how they interpreted her words, and if she could, she'd like them to only think of it as they imagined it to be for the rest of their lives. Ignorance was bliss, after all.

Because of her and her sibling's circumstance with what happened to their parents at such a young age, the government was willing to give them enough money to make a somewhat decent living off of. To say the least, it was enough to barely get by with the housing payments as groceries to last a week, and maybe—maybe, rarely—the occasional new pair of shoes and such. But that didn't change the fact that everyone else with a richer lifestyle, even if it was only slightly better, looked down on them as if they were dirt. And it also didn't change the fact that no matter how much they tried to save, they still really didn't have enough money. Which was why Mirajane was here, willing to work in this kind of place; nowhere else would accept her because of her age and place she came from. And she wasn't working for her own life—she was working for her little brother's and sister's lives. And that was what really separated her from everyone else that worked here.

Most of the girls that worked here were either forgotten by their family and friends a long time ago, or they never had one to begin with. Some had been abandoned by their husbands, while others ran away from them. All in all, everyone who worked in this underworld nightclub had nothing. They came here alone. All of them were feral cats, wanting only to survive, willing to do whatever in order to stay alive, even if it meant hurting themselves. After all, here, scars were better than starving and having no place to return to.

Mirajane ran a brush through her soft hair. Her eyes flickered between everything that shared its reflection in the same mirror as her. If she could smash the mirror without cracking her own image and making it fall apart, she would. She wanted all those other things gone from the picture. She wanted to cut them out, as if this were an actual photograph she could physically hold and control what she wanted people to see in it. Once she leaves this building, that's exactly how it would be, though; but the moment she sets foot back in here, everything she's been able to momentarily escape from will reappear. She set her brush down and stood up, trying to get rid of the sparkles that now faintly littered over her black dress. Pursing her lips with disdain, she huffed and grabbed her black purse. She was finally going home.

The walk back to the condo was eerily quiet, yet it didn't make her uncomfortable. She felt perfectly fine walking alone at this hour in the early hours of the next day, or what she often called the devil's hour. Most of the people here liked to refer to this time period as the witching hour, but if they knew what she knew, they'd be calling it the devil's hour, too. The name was a little contradictory, but she truly believed this was the safest hour for people to wander alone by themselves on these perilous streets. Especially considering where she lived and what roads she most often took to get to places. After all, this was the time that the devil should be in the middle of its feast, not on the prowl.

The haunting echoes of glass shattering somewhere off in the distance sounded off, but Mirajane kept walking forward, merely keeping her ears alert for any possible sounds of a monster following her in the dark shadows she couldn't bother to take the time to curiously peer into. That was her first rule for wandering these streets by herself: Don't bother yourself with something that has nothing to do with you; unless initiated with, keep to yourself. It was that simple. From personal experience and hearing every other girl's experience, she knew that was the best rule to follow.

Mirajane sighed as she stared up at the sky. She pursed her lips. There weren't even any stars for her to make a wish upon. All she wanted was for a change—a miracle. Something that would end her misery while also giving her younger siblings a better life. She wouldn't even mind marrying an overaged, despicable man and giving herself to him—as long as he had money and was willing to let her use as much as she wanted, she would gracefully accept that imprisoned life. It's not like what she had now was any better, and she couldn't care at all about love, especially when it was nothing more than just a nice fairytale. If it was for her siblings' happiness and wellbeing, she was willing to do anything.

For the rest of her walk home, Mirajane kept her eyes up at the starless sky. She only wanted to see one—just one star. If this world was merciful enough, at least let her make one wish.

Unfortunately, however, for the starlight-haired girl, no stars appeared for her and she had to go home carrying her wish close to her heart. It was like a bird trapped in a cage. Oh how badly her wish wanted to fly free…but not tonight. It would have to wait until tomorrow night. And probably the next night. And the next night. And all of the rest of the next nights until her dying breath because this part of town you could never see stars in the sky. The pollution from all the major factories always wafted down to this area, making it impossible to have a clear view up to the heavens. Everyday always seemed to be overcast, and the atmosphere was constantly gray. Just like this bland life of poverty she lived in, and would continue living in for the rest of her life. She would never be able to send her wish off…

Little did Mirajane know, however, was that there were other figures who were willing to grant her wish—but they weren't anything close to that of an ethereal star. They had no light in their souls. They only had a dark green monster tearing its way out of their hearts and grabbing hold of every vain and vital organ in their body in a death grip. It wanted more. Through thick cigarette smoke, several pairs of dark eyes had been watching her from a window high up on the top floor to the massive, dark building whose stairwell she had exited out of. They had been waiting for her, and only her, evaluating her. She was the only one out of all the other pathetic girls who had any chance for worth and value. She was quite beautiful, after all—a rare diamond hidden in the rough, whom they have kept hidden from the world for so long…and now, they were going to spend her worth.

She should be honored that they were picking her, and have been planning to for quite some time now; for they had great plans and a starring role for her to play that would make even the devil smile in mirth. Of course, they were going to make arrangements and offer her an amount from their own revenue. It would be like dropping a penny on the ground for them, but they knew how much she probably needed it and that it was worth one thousand times more to her than them. Oh, if only she knew. She didn't know anything about it yet…but she would, soon. Tomorrow night.

.

Mirajane found herself staring at her lovely reflection, once again. Perfume and hairspray floated thickly in the air, lulling her mind into a sickly trance. She pursed her lips. Her little sister wasn't doing too well when she came home last night. It seemed that her sickness was getting worse… She needed to see a doctor. She needed treatment. But they didn't have the money for that. With the extra income she brought in from work, it was still hardly enough for them to get by. Which was why she had requested her workplace to give her an extra role, other than Demon. To say "requested," however, was more than an understatement. She begged.

Here at the Roxanne La Sanguine, a secret underworld strip club meant for the rich, there were several stage names a performer could go by. The lowest, and most common name was, the Torturers. Under this title were three lesser stage names any girl here could take, which divided them into groups and stage outfits: Demons, Vampires, and Sirens. Mirajane had been a Demon for the past four years, ever since she was fifteen.

As a young teenager, knowing very well about the dangers of this world and the many monsters within it at an age no girl should ever have her innocence taken away so violently, leaving her with red covered hands, Mirajane knew exactly what she was getting herself into when she accepted to become a courtesan—a Demon. That decision was excruciatingly hard enough, but her desperateness for money was at its peak, and she needed to get over her fear of those monsters at some point. She wanted to become stronger. That was around the time her little sister had fallen ill and her little brother began to fall apart. It seemed that as the years went by and her little sister continued to not get proper treatment, her sickness would only keep on getting worse and more worse, until eventually, the malicious hands of the unknown would steel her delicate soul, and her little sister would never open her sky blue eyes again.

The thought always shattered her, and she knew what it was doing to her little brother…which was why she took it upon her shoulders as the oldest sibling to take full responsibility by doing whatever it would take for their younger sister to receive proper treatment. She was going to earn that money somehow…

Because Torturers didn't take clients and were strictly performers, Mirajane didn't make as much money as some of the other girls. She couldn't, for her services only offered visual entertainment, and men were only willing to pay so much money to see a girl who would strip and dance nearly nude for him. Which was where the Goddesses came in, the next stage name above Torturer. Goddesses typically earned a lot more money because their services went beyond visual entertainment, ranging from physical touch to being leased out in a private room. But the Goddesses were limited, with only six possible stage names: Keres, Eris, Selene, Até, Hebe, and Mania. Therefore, that meant that only six luckygirls could be a Goddess and earn more than her life's worth in wage; all six of the Goddesses were almost always busy with a client each night. But they weren't the stars here. There was only room for one star—one queen, among all the rest—and that was the role the stage name Aphrodite had.

Aphrodite was the stage name for one single, very lucky girl, but there were high requirements and demands that had to be met in order to be cast as this role. The girl had to be beyond beautiful, desirable, with looks to match her seductively sweet voice, which was gifted musically. To be able to spend a night with her and do whatever he pleases, a man would have to pay a lot more than the price of having a mere Goddess. This was Aphrodite, after all, the Greek goddess of lust, pleasure, beauty, and love. When on stage, anything could be done to Aphrodite throughout her musical performance by the other performers, which the girls here were no more than willing to do just about anything as long as it earned them extra cash, but the men weren't allowed to touch her like they were with the Goddesses. This rule was set all for the savory possibility of being able to potentially devour such a beautiful, lustful girl, and it acted as a way to tantalize the men, so that they would end up paying the high cost to spend a night with her.

Mirajane never aspired to become Aphrodite. That was the last thing she wanted—to be violated and raped. However…she was well aware of her capabilities, and she knew that if she wanted it, she could take over that role and drain every monster's wallet. It'd be so easy. All that would have to be done is that she throws her dignity away…which was something she wasn't ready to do. But she really needed the money. And now. And this would be for her little sister… She was well aware of her superiority in appearances compared to most of the girls here; they never treated her kindly, nor gave her kind looks about it in return. Erza, who was a beauty herself with the purest of hearts, was her only friend. But she supposed that staying a Torturer herself was less troublesome and helped some of the other girls feel better and tell themselves pretty, petty lies. Plus, it saved her from having to be touched by dirty hands.

Mirajane sighed. But who cares about her!—not that it matters anymore, though… Despite the amount she begged earlier, the men in expensive suits in charge here wouldn't give her any better role than a Demon. It was something she didn't understand. Why? She was pretty enough, and she had the voice for it… What was she supposed to do now? Find another strip club and sell her body for good? That seemed to be the only way for her to get the money she and her siblings needed. She stopped fiddling around with the glossy comb she had grabbed mindlessly and stared at it. Should she do it?

When she looked back up in the mirror, Mirajane found that the backstage dressing room was empty, all except for herself…and two men dressed in black striped suits standing in the shadow of the doorway leading to the hallway—

Mirajane gasped and stood up. She instantly recognized the two men, despite not having ever met these two in particular before, but she could tell enough that they were members of the gang that ran this strip club. Her sapphire eyes traveled across the room frantically; most of the costumes meant for the dance number all the Torturers were supposed to perform in at that very moment were gone. She still hadn't changed into costume yet, and was wearing her usual black dress. Were they going to get mad at her? Punish her for being late? Her heart was pounding hard in her chest, and her stomach began to churn. She could sense the evil atmosphere these men emitted and all their thoughtless sins they dragged behind them without a care in the world of who got caught in it. They would gladly, if not absentmindedly, sweep her away into their bloody closets that hid more than just a skeleton—that is, if she allowed it.

Mirajane gripped the comb in her hand, getting into a readying stance. "What do you want?" she asked. Was that the right thing to say?

"Relax," one of the men said, having seen her small adjustments. The man who had spoken was the one on the right, slightly shorter than the other. His face, just like the man beside him, was mostly concealed by the black fedora hat he wore, so Mirajane couldn't make too many assumptions about him regarding age, looks, and character. "We're not here to hurt you…but we will if you resist," he said as he took a taunting step forward. "The boss just wants to have a word with you."

Mirajane blinked. "Boss?" she echoed. Then she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, taking a small step back. She was already up against the counter to her stationed vanity mirror. Her hands gripped tighter on the comb in her hand, but she was careful to make sure that she didn't squeeze too hard to the point of breaking it. "What business does he have with me?" she said defensively, making sure to have a bit of weakness laced within her voice. To be honest, she hadn't heard much about the ringleader of this gang, nor had she met him, so she wasn't sure how to react towards his name.

The shorter man snickered, bowing his head a little and grabbed the rim to his black hat, tipping it down a bit. But those actions didn't hide the malicious grin plastered on the lower half of his face. "Weren't you just begging us earlier to give you a job that paid better?" he mockingly said.

Mirajane's grip on her comb involuntarily loosened, and all the fierceness she tried to exhibit slipped off as easily as a costume mask. She looked down to the ground in defeat, just like she had earlier when the other gang members directing the strip show had crudely turned her away. She needed to humble herself now, but she couldn't find the words to speak. She hated the idea of giving these monsters what they wanted and bowing down to their unjust rein; but she couldn't afford to be kicked out of this place and lose the extra income for her siblings. Luckily for her, however, the two men didn't bother waiting for an answer.

"Come, follow us, Courtesan," the shorter man spoke once again, commanding power in his voice. "We can't keep the boss waiting."

Mirajane looked up to find the shorter man's hand outstretched to her. This was just like an invitation to accept a car ride from a stranger. Something she would never do. With her face blank, she walked towards the two men and stopped short. "I can walk fine by myself, thanks," she said.

The shorter man's wicked smile faltered, but he simply shrugged it off. "After you, then," he said, sardonically bowing with a grand gesture for her to walk out the doorway before them.

Mirajane hesitated, but she walked past between the two men gracefully. The shorter man's grin quickly came back to his face fully with lecherous intent, and just as he reached out a hand towards Mirajane, a delicate hand had snatched his wrist crudely. If he had looked up all the way, he would've seen the darkened blue in her eyes as she gave him the death glare, but he didn't. He couldn't let her see his face, so the shorter man simply wrenched his hand out of her grip—or at least attempted to. Dang. She had a strong hold…

The grip on the shorter man's wrist tightened, and Mirajane turned to face him. "Don't…ever…touch me," she seethed darkly to him. Her large darkened blue orbs flickered over to the taller man briefly, to which his simply bowed his head a little, before she fixed her gaze back to the shorter man. He was a little shorter than herself, but maybe if she wasn't wearing her heels, they'd be about the same height. He was trying to get out of her grip again. How pathetic. She finally let go, watching as he stumbled back a bit and grabbed at his wrist with is left hand. She vaguely noticed a thick silver ring on his left ring finger with a large black onyx stone before she turned around and walked out the door and to the hallway.

The two men in striped suits shared a glance with one another, the shorter man more ruffled than the other, and they followed the starlight-haired girl out to the hallway where they found her waiting expectantly. Somehow, for whatever reason, it seemed as if the tables had turned on them and she was the one in charge. Their boss had warned them about her, but to handle her with the utmost care, for she played a valuable part in his plan... They hadn't known how serious their boss was with his warning until now.

The shorter man reached inside his pocket and pulled out a black handkerchief and handed it to Mirajane, taking extra caution with his movements. Mirajane didn't bother to reach out and take the offered handkerchief, simply displaying a look of confusion; she simply stood there and stared down the shorter man, challenging him with her narrowed eyes.

It was then that the taller man swiftly moved and grabbed Mirajane in a headlock, catching her off-guard, and brought a white handkerchief soaked in something wet and sweet smelling to her mouth and nose. A small, muffled yelp managed to escape her lips, and she struggled for a bit in the tall man's firm grip, but the drug was already in her system, so she stopped. She already knew it was too late at that point, for there was no way she could outrun these men. Not in this condition. She knew they were everywhere here.

So, instead, she allowed the tall man to hiss in her ear, telling her to hush and hold still, and to allow the shorter man to tie the black handkerchief over her eyes. The cool cloth was still over her mouth, and as the tall man guided her down the dimly lit hallways, with loud sleazy music playing in the background, making her world seem to fade and echo in and out with her consciousness, she stumbled forward. All she could still smell was something icy and sweet. Her legs and arms were slowly beginning to feel weird, and the turns and directions and steps she took were starting to be a haze.

They had stopped walking. She could hear muffled low voices…but then her body gave out on her and she spiraled down into a world of darkness.

Thanks so much for reading! :)