tw. domestic violence, sexual assault, sex work, blood, thoughts of death

It only took a week for Michael to realize Maeve wasn't actually working the corners and selling her prepubescent body for his own profit.

Michael stormed into the dimly lit room without warning, the sharp scent of whiskey trailing behind him like a warning. His eyes, dark and furious, locked onto Melina immediately.

"I hear little Maeve ain't been working the corners with you," he snarled, voice low and dangerous.

Melina's heart pounded, but she refused to show fear. "She's too young. You told me to teach her when she was ready. She's not ready."

Michael's laugh was cold and cruel. "Not ready? You're costin' me money by keepin' her out. Think I don't care? Think I'm soft?"

Melina squared her shoulders, voice steady but fierce. "I'm protecting her. She's my sister. She's not ready to be out there."

Michael took a threatening step closer. "You're mine. Both of you. And you do what I say."

Melina met his gaze, eyes burning. "Not this time."

Michael's fist slammed into the wall beside her, cracking the plaster. "You're damn right, it's this time."

For a moment, the room was thick with silence — the kind that screams louder than words.

Melina swallowed hard but stood firm. Protecting Maeve was no longer a choice. It was a war. A war that wasn't to be won. A war that had to unfortunately end before it could even begin. The next night Maeve had to work, otherwise Michael would take matters into his own hands like he had done with Melina when she was nine years old. Melina wouldn't subject Maeve to the same fate she had.

The following night, it was like the weather senses what was going to happen. The air was colder and sharper than it needed to be, slicing through Maeve's thin jacket like a knife. Her hands trembled, and her breath came in short, uneven bursts. She clung to Melina's side, barely able to meet the eyes of the men who lurked on the corners.

Melina's grip on her wrist was firm, steady—everything Maeve needed to hold onto in a world that felt like it was crumbling beneath her feet.

"This is just for tonight," Melina whispered, her voice a low promise that sounded shaky even to herself. "I'll be right here. I won't let anything worse happen to you."

Maeve wanted to believe her. She wanted to be brave. But the knot in her stomach twisted tighter as a man approached, eyes hungry and cold.

Melina stepped forward, shielding Maeve like a warrior. "Not her," she said sharply.

The man sneered. "Your sister's gotta learn sometime. Tonight's her night."

Maeve felt the shove before she knew it, the cruel weight of the world pressing down on her small frame. Tears burned her eyes, but she forced herself not to cry—not in front of Melina, not in front of him.

Every second stretched out, endless and suffocating.

But through it all, Melina's voice was a lifeline. "Look at me. Breathe. You're not alone." Melina had to hand her over to the man, otherwise word would get back to Michael.

When the night finally ended, Maeve stumbled back into Melina's arms, shaking but alive. The pain was there—deep and raw—but so was the fierce love that Melina wrapped around her like armor.

"I'm sorry," Melina whispered.

Maeve just held Melina tighter. In that fragile moment, amidst the dark and the fear, Maeve found a sliver of strength—not because the night was any less cruel, but because she wasn't facing it alone.

_____________________

Jason's eyes darkened the moment he overheard some other working girls talk about how Melina's sister —Maeve was pushed into the corners, forced to face what no child should.

He clenched his fists, jaw tight, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. This wasn't just the harshness of the streets anymore. This was something darker, something that made his blood boil.

Later, he found Maeve sitting alone on the steps, her small frame hunched and exhausted. Her eyes flicked up when he approached, wary but too tired to hide everything.

"Hey," Jason said softly, sitting beside her. "I heard."

Maeve's lip trembled, and she looked away. "I didn't want to. Melina said I had to."

Jason's voice dropped to a whisper. "You shouldn't have to. No one should."

He pulled his jacket tighter around her shoulders, a silent shield against the cold—and the world.

"Listen," he said, voice steady but fierce, "if anyone ever tries to make you do that again, you come find me. I'll make sure they regret it."

Maeve's eyes met his, a mix of fear and hope swirling inside. For the first time, she felt like someone might actually be on her side—not just fighting the world, but fighting for her.

Jason gave her a small, tight smile. "You're stronger than they know. But you don't have to be alone."

And in that moment, Maeve understood: survival wasn't just about getting through the night. It was about finding someone who would stand beside you, no matter what.

_____________________

Later on after Jason went with some clients into their car. Maeve was pulled into a car and forced to sell her body to another individual. In fear of her life or Michael finding out she complied and hated herself the entire time the assault occurred.

Maeve's hands trembled as she slipped into a shadowed alley she ran into after being paid, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. The man had been rough—too rough—and the sting of his grip still burned on her arm, neck, and her thighs where blood leaked down. She didn't want to cry, but the tears spilled anyway, hot and unexpected.

Jason noticed her running from a car and found her in the alley. He was right beside her before she could say a word, his voice low and steady. "Hey, it's okay. You're okay."

She shook her head, voice barely a whisper. "He... he grabbed my neck too hard. I thought... I thought I was going to..."

Jason didn't let her finish. He sat down beside her, pulling her close so she could lean into him. His jacket was rough but warm against her skin.

"You didn't deserve that," he said firmly. "Nobody does."

Maeve pressed her face into his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "I'm scared."

Jason's hands were gentle as they brushed the hair from her face. "I know. But you're not alone. Not anymore."

She swallowed hard, still trembling, but the tight knot in her chest loosened just a little.

Jason whispered, "Whenever it feels too much, just remember this—there's someone here who won't let anyone hurt you again."

Maeve looked up, eyes searching for him, finding something steady and real. For the first time since Michael's shadow had fallen over her life, she let herself believe it. For the first time she had someone other than Melina as her shield.