A/n: Oh, I just couldn't resist. Sorry. It's the holidays, so I might as well write as much as I can now. I am not, repeat, AM NOT dropping any of my other fics, don't you worry. This won't take any of the time I'd be working on them. Their updates are going to be a little slower, because it's harder to write when you're so far in. Two of them are at…pivotal points in the stories, so I really want to work hard on them anyway, so it might take a little longer. Anyway, enjoy this fic!
Full Summery: Innocent Bella's family is broke, and her dad's in hospital. She can't find a job so she decides to sell herself for money; but she gets into some trouble. Lucky for her, the rich, popular Edward Cullen turns up to save her, and decides to take her home. Smut and romance ensue.
Disclaimer: Twilight and any recognisable characters and settings are not mine. As much as I wish they were.
Warning: This fic is rated M for a reason: adult themes, including prostitution, harassment (sexual), and [maybe] insanity. Don't like? Don't read.
"I'm so sorry, Bella", Charlie, my dad, croaked out. He lay in a hospital bed looking weaker than I'd ever seen him before. He'd lost a lot of weight, and he could barely gather the energy to talk. Charlie was ill…very ill.
This illness had begun almost a year ago, but now we were stuck, as you might say, in the proverbial rut. It turned out that my father had been financing not only himself and my now-dead grandparents; but also my flake of a mother over the years. Now, he couldn't work, hadn't worked long enough for a pension, and we had no money to speak of. My mother was incontestable; she had been ever since she met Phil - her new husband, a baseball player.
"It's okay, dad", I assured him, "I'll think of something."
It looked very much like I was going to have to drop out of school; something I was at loathe to do. Of course, I'd also have to move out of our house. Charlie had been renting, but there was no way I could afford that, even if I did drop out. Luckily, Charlie had bought a garage nearby, so I could move all of our stuff into it, and perhaps live there.
That night I left Charlie with a heavy heart, and the next morning I got to work. I didn't have much money left, but hired help wasn't too expensive these days. I paid three men to take as much stuff from our house as they could, and put it all into the garage down nearby town. Luckily, it all fit in fine. Me and Charlie didn't have much stuff - we weren't exactly what you would call 'material' people.
When they were done, I paid them and ate the last piece of food I had left: An apple. It was delicious. I said my goodbyes to the house, then headed off to job hunt for the afternoon.
There was nothing. I even got the bus up to Port Angeles in the late afternoon; and found nothing there either.
Sometimes, life likes to slap you hard in the face. This wasn't one of those times. Life had slapped me in the face, punched me in the gut, and kicked me in while I was down. This wasn't fair, and I felt like crying when I got back to the garage. Instead. I made the long walk down to the hospital, and Charlie. Who wasn't even awake today. Instead, he slumbered peacefully through the night. I pulled my coat around me and slept in the uncomfortable plastic chair by his bed: at least I had a roof over my head.
The next day I took the liberty of using the hospital showers and toilets, before sneaking into the staff room and nicking myself some free coffee and biscuits. After all, it wasn't as if I could really afford to eat anything myself.
I spoke with Charlie for a few groggy minutes, then left when he fell back to sleep. I headed back to the garage and changed into some new clothes when I got there.
Then I was off to Seattle for more job hunting. That was the furthest I would be able to travel to work, I reasoned with myself. Otherwise I could…well…beg? Or busk…no, that wasn't a very good idea: I didn't play any instruments, and I couldn't sing. Though people might just pay me to shut up…there's a thought.
The bus ride to Seattle was ridiculously long; even by bus standards. I realised that if I wanted to work here, I would probably have to move into a hotel or something. Or a tent, maybe.
I spent the entire afternoon and early evening in Seattle; trudging around under a downcast sky. The only jobs they had were ones I wasn't qualified to do. By the time night fell, and the sky was darkening, I was freezing, hungry, and still jobless. To top it all off, the city began to get eerie in the darkness, with only the glowing streetlamps to light the dank pavement.
I wrapped my arms around myself as I walked through the city centre, hoping to catch the last bus back to Forks. Lucky for me, because of the airport, the place had pretty late busses to the surrounding areas.
As I walked, I saw people prowling the streets out of the corner of my eye, men and women alike. A gang of children. A small family walking out of restaurant doors. I forced myself not to think about the smells that permeated the air on the restaurant lined streets. I'd had nothing to eat since the cookies that morning. And I'd only been able to drink water from the fountain at the park. I had three large bottles of water back at the garage, but I wanted to save them for as long as possible. I was never more grateful for the free public water supply.
I reached the bus stop with ten minutes to spare; or so the clock in the shop opposite told me. I sat shivering under the cracked plastic cover of the station as it started to spit: adding insult to injury. 'What a day for it to rain,' I thought to myself glumly, rubbing my hands up and down the opposite biceps; trying to create heat from friction.
It was then, as I sat in that gloomy place in the dark, that I saw her. A woman was walking down the street towards me, though limping might be a more appropriate way of describing the action. Her legs were garbed in fishnet tights, and a short, tight red dress was wrapped around her little figure. High heels dangled hazardously from her fingers, and a thick fur camisole was wrapped around her shoulders. Thick, smudged make-up garbed her face, and her long blonde hair hung in large ringlets down her back. She looked in bad shape, but she was beautiful.
As I watched her make her way down the street, she suddenly stood up a little straighter, and stopped her limping. I saw a man approach out of the corner of my eye, and observed as he walked straight up to her, and began to speak in a low voice I couldn't make out. He was also a tall blonde. His hair was spiked up like a hedgehog, and he wore a thick, black coat around his frame. He looked well off, from what I could tell. He leaned over a little further, and I watched as he handed her something - I couldn't see what. Then he grabbed her hand, and pulled her away behind him.
'Oh,' I realised silently as the headlamps of my bus finally turned the corner and lit the soaked tarmac of the road. 'She's a prostitute.'
A/n: Mm. Review?