Just when I thought my night couldn't get any worse, it did. You'd think working your arse off—quite literally—to please some old creeps would make anyone's night shitty enough. Not that I don't enjoy the dancing. I do, I really do. But the groping and the leering eyes that follow me around like I'm a piece of meat—it's disgusting.

Every night, I put up with this bullshit and become this girl who will happily turn a man's head and make him forget whatever shit he's got going on. That girl is a front, a mask I hide behind so that people don't know that underneath the glitter and the high heels, there's a girl who's tired. A girl who hates the constant touch and the way the world has this relentless way of reducing her to nothing more than an object designed to please men.

I took one fucking break from it all—the only fucking break I'd be granted all night. That was all it was, a break to forget everything for a fucking second and catch my breath. Away from the suffocating mix of perfume and desperation that clung to my cage, my workplace, my very own personal hell—Club Mars.

All I was doing was leaning up against the wall, cigarette in hand, as I watched the alley, trying not to think about how much I loathed my job.

That's when I saw them—the men who came out, the ones wearing dark suits and grim faces. Their presence cut through the club's neon haze like a knife in butter. Out of them all, I just about recognised the one with the cold eyes and hard stance. I'd seen him eyeing me up all night, fucking perv, but there was something about him now, this sharp edge to him. It didn't take long for me to realise something was off.

They passed by and I went back to my cigarette, wanting to purge his stupid mysteriously handsome face from my mind. But, before I could even process what was happening, a sudden burst of noise shattered my moment of solitude.

Gunshots.

The sound was deafening—intoxicating—and the alley spiralled into a chaotic painting of flashing lights and bodies moving in panic. I pressed myself against the wall, my heart racing, as the violence unfolded before me.

Trapped between fight or flight, my eyes locked with another seemingly innocent bystander. He stood with his back pressed against the large bin behind him as the body of another man fell at his feet. His fair hair was spattered with blood, eyes wide with fear as he dared to look back towards where the gunshots were coming from.

That was when I saw him again, the man who'd ogled me in the club. I knew he was bad fucking news the second I laid eyes on him. He was trying to protect himself, taking some cover as he fired back through the chaos.

I wanted to move, to do something—anything—but my legs felt frozen in fear. Even as the gunshots died down and were replaced by the pattering of running footsteps and distant sirens.

Then I saw him fall. He stumbled back against the brick wall, his body growing weak. The blood spread out around him, a grim reminder of how quickly things had gone wrong. It was then that I heard his ragged breaths, saw the sharp pain seared into his face.

My first instinct was to run. To get the hell out of that mess. But something stopped me. Against all my fucking instincts, I ran to him.

As I knelt beside him, my heart still racing, I noticed the blonde guy from earlier hurrying towards us. His golden curls bounced with each step, and the urgency in his face was impossible to miss. He seemed frantic, skittish even, but he still came to help.

"Shit," he said. "Shit, shit, shit!"

I rolled my eyes as I watched him curse, falling into outright panic. 

The alley was still echoing with the distant sirens and the heavy, rusty smell of blood filled the air. The idiot's panic was almost palpable as he glanced around, freaking out over what was happening.

"We need to get the hell out of here! What if they come back? Fuck what will the police say? We'll be next if we stay, we need to go!"

I shook my head vehemently, trying to push through the chaos that rang throughout my mind. "No, we can't just leave him!" I snapped, my voice cutting through his panicked cries. "Look at him—he's barely hanging on!"

His eyes widened with fear, and he took a step back, as if the very thought of staying made him want to flee. "We... We don't know him! Fuck, I don't even know you!"

"You don't get it," I snapped. "This is obviously gang-related. If we leave him and he dies, they're just going to pin it on us. Who would believe us? If we run we'll be arrested or worse. We're witnesses—loose ends."

His panic was starting to wear out and he looked about ready to bolt. I grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at me. "He's the only one that might be able to protect us! If you fucking leave me here and run you better know you're going right down with me. Don't think I'll keep my mouth shut for some whore who didn't even try to help me!"

He swallowed hard, his golden curls shifting with each shake of his head. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He took a step back and ran his hands through his hair, stopping briefly when his fingers brushed against already drying blood. "Fine—fuck—fine. What do you want to do?"

"We have to get him somewhere safe," I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the situation which, as you can probably tell, was really fucking bad. "We can't let him die here. We need to find help before it's too late."

He hesitated for a moment longer, his anxiety giving way until he reluctantly agreed. "Alright. But if we're doing this, we need to move fast. Those sirens are getting dangerously close."

I nodded, gripping the gangbanger's hand, trying to offer some comfort amidst the chaos. His breathing was shallow, his face pale. "We're going to get you out of here," I whispered, though I knew he might not hear me. "Just hang in there."

My unlikely accomplice looked far too skittish as he moved to my side, helping me lift our limp patient off the ground as his eyes darted nervously around.

"Hey," I put a hand on his shoulder, "Focus. I've got a car a few blocks away. We can use that. But we need to be quick."

Arse — a person's buttocks or anus

Gangbanger — a member of a violent street gang.