I was on my way to the club, the streets of D.C. bustling with the usual morning rush. The city seemed alive with a pulse of its own, the buildings bathed in the scorching sun.

I wasn't supposed to be here. I wasn't supposed to go to the club for rehearsals today. Tuesdays were always my day off. The schedule was designed so the show varied each night, and on Tuesdays, I wasn't in any of the group performances and had no solo numbers. It was my day off. Always.

But not today.

Not today, because Gina was missing. So was Naomi, another burlesque dancer from a different club. Naomi had been gone since last Monday, and they found her body on Saturday - the same day Gina was last seen. No body yet for Gina.

I didn't know Gina very well. She had only started working at Velvet Nights about six months ago. She was quiet but talented, blending seamlessly into the family of performers that had become my second home. I had worked at Velvet Nights for two years now, ever since I moved to D.C. It was the only place I had ever worked in the city, and I considered myself lucky to have found it. The girls there were more than just colleagues; they were my family.

When I first arrived in D.C., everything felt daunting and unfamiliar. I had left behind everything I knew, driven by the hope of starting fresh in a city that promised excitement and opportunity. For a while, it seemed like I had found my place. I landed a steady job that felt like a dream come true, and I had a small but charming apartment. I was surrounded by friends who had become like family.

Life seemed perfect, a far cry from the uncertainty I had left behind. It's strange, though, how quickly everything can change. In an instant, the sense of security and belonging I had built for myself felt fragile and uncertain.

Gina's disappearance had cast a dark shadow over everyone. The easygoing atmosphere was replaced with palpable tension, and every day without news felt like an eternity. I couldn't help but worry about her, about what might have happened.

And then there was Naomi. What if Gina ended up like her? The thought was too horrible to fully process. I, along with everyone else, just hoped that Gina had simply run away, as the police initially suggested. But two burlesque dancers disappearing in the same week? It was hard to believe it was just a coincidence.

The thought of rehearsing today, of trying to perform with the weight of fear and uncertainty hanging over me, felt almost unbearable. I couldn't eat. I had barely slept. But the show had to go on. Ricky, my boss, had made that clear. The club couldn't afford to close, not even for a night. The security was doubled, and I was promised I'd be safe. But promises felt thin in the face of such real and present danger.

As I approached the familiar entrance of Velvet Nights, the turned-off neon sign hanging above the door, a shiver ran down my spine. I pushed the door open and stepped inside, the usually vibrant and welcoming space now tinged with an unsettling quiet.

Ricky was pacing near the bar, his face etched with worry. As soon as he saw me, he made a beeline in my direction.

"Misty," Ricky said, his voice low and urgent, "the FBI is here. They're talking to the girls, and they want to speak with you too. They're talking to everybody."

"Did they talk to you already?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Yeah, first thing in the morning. They spoke with the security guys too. Now they're talking to the girls." He sighed and looked at me with worried eyes. Ricky was a good guy. He and Jane, his best friend and the manager, ran this place and took care of everyone, especially the girls.

"How are you holding up?" he asked softly.

"Could be better," I admitted, my voice tinged with anxiety. "Are you sure we're still opening tonight?"

Ricky nodded, though his expression remained strained. "We can't afford to close, not even for one night. The security is doubled, and I promise you, you'll be fine. But we need to keep the show going. I'll drive every single one of you home myself if I have to."

"Thanks… I just hope… it's just a coincidence, you know?" My throat tightened as I spoke. "That she… that Gina is… just somewhere. Alive. You know? That she just ran away…"

"Me too, kiddo," he said, but his eyes betrayed his lack of belief in that comforting thought.

"How's the FBI? Are they okay?"

"Oh yeah, they just want to help. The police called them in for assistance. It didn't make the news, but apparently, that girl's body… Naomi… It was bad. Like, this is serious."

"Oh God…" I couldn't help but think of Gina's body somewhere, rotting, beaten, unrecognizable, thrown out like trash. The horrific images started to overwhelm me.

Before my mind could spiral further, a voice came through from upstairs where the offices and dressing rooms were located. "We've finished speaking with Kelly. Who's next?" It was a man in his mid-thirties, his tone professional yet gentle.

Ricky looked at me and nodded towards the stairs. "That's your cue. You ready?"

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "As ready as I'll ever be," I replied, my voice wavering slightly.

I climbed the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. My phone started ringing, the sudden noise jolting my already frayed nerves. I quickly declined the call and averted my gaze to the FBI agent standing outside one of the small offices. His notepad was in hand, and as his eyes met mine, I saw a glimmer of understanding and kindness in them. It was a small comfort in the midst of this nightmare.

"What's your name?" he asked, confirming my identity.

"Misty Morton," I said, attempting a small smile, though it felt forced.

"Hello, Miss Morton. Thank you for speaking with us," he said, gesturing for me to enter the office. "We know this is a difficult time for you. My name is Doctor Reid, and this is Agent Prentiss." He gestured at a woman sitting in one of the chairs, who gave me a nod of acknowledgment.

I stepped inside the cramped space, filled with old props and dusty papers. The room felt like a relic from another era, a stark contrast to the urgent present. Doctor Reid followed and closed the door behind me, giving me a reassuring nod. I could feel the weight of his presence, a mix of professionalism and genuine concern.

"We just need to ask you a few questions about Gina and anything unusual you might have noticed recently," he began, his tone calm and soothing.

My mind raced, trying to focus on the task at hand. I felt a pang of guilt for not knowing Gina better, for not being able to protect her. As I settled into the chair, I couldn't help but think about the last time I saw her, the way she laughed and seemed so full of life. The thought that she could be in serious danger, or worse, was almost too much to bear.

Reid's eyes never left mine, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the turmoil inside me. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the questions to come. "I'll do my best to help," I said, my voice steadying despite the emotions swirling within me.

As I began to recount everything I could remember about Gina, her routines, and the people who frequented the club, I noticed the way Reid listened intently, his pen moving swiftly across his notebook. His focus never wavered, and it made me feel like, for the first time since this nightmare began, someone was truly trying to understand and help.

I realized that this wasn't just an interrogation - it was a lifeline. And I clung to that, hoping that by answering their questions, I could bring Gina back and restore some semblance of safety to my world.

Doctor Reid sat across from me, his notepad already full. Agent Prentiss leaned forward slightly, her eyes sharp and focused, almost looking through me.

"Can you tell us anything you remember about Gina's behavior recently? Did she seem worried or mention anything unusual?" Reid asked.

I thought back, trying to recall any details that might help. "Gina was quiet, but she didn't seem overly anxious. She was always professional and kept to herself mostly. She didn't mention anything out of the ordinary."

Reid nodded, jotting down notes. Then, he exchanged a glance with Prentiss before looking back at me.

"We also need to ask you about Naomi," Agent Prentiss said. "Did you know her well?"

I shook my head. "No, I didn't. I just saw her on the news recently. We work at different clubs. I heard about her disappearance and… what happened to her." The thought of Naomi's fate sent a shiver down my spine.

Reid and Prentiss exchanged another glance, this one more intense. I could feel their scrutiny, as if they were seeing something I couldn't.

"What?" I asked, unable to bear their looks any longer. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Reid hesitated, then pulled a couple of photographs from a folder. He laid them out in front of me - one of Gina and one of Naomi. "Do you notice anything about these photos?"

I stared at the images, my heart pounding. At first, it was just Gina's familiar face and Naomi's less familiar one. But then it hit me. We all looked the same.