Priceless

6th Letter

I'm an English major. What's yours? And also...I hope I don't offend you, but are you a guy or a girl? This is just so I could get an idea of who I'm talking with. By the way, you have quite an alluring name.

Okay... This has so many things for me to be surprised about. First of all, an English major? Ew. I can tell. Alluring. That's such a sophisticated word that I don't even know what it means. I quickly search for it on my phone and roll my eyes.

He could've just said beautiful if that's what he meant. But I giggle at the way he tries to sound respectful by asking whether I'm a girl or not. I guess I can have some fun with this. He really is my only friend at that school, so might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

I take out my fountain pen and write: I'm a Fine Arts major. Thank you. I don't like my name, so I stick with Dear.

I wonder what he'll think of me when he reads Fine Arts. I mean...maybe he'll like it. Maybe he'll think I'm as sophisticated as he is... Or maybe he'll think I'm weird like my parents do. If he does, I'm ready for it.

Now I have to respond to his respectful question. A smirk starts on my lips as I write down: I'm offended. Why does it matter?

A quiet chuckle escapes my lips as I put the paper in its envelope and close it. I start to put on the address at the front when I see my mother enter the kitchen. She eyes me and then ignores my existence. I wonder how I didn't die as a baby. She probably hated breastfeeding me and nurturing me. Maybe my father convinced her to do it right so they could use me once I'm older. For sure if I ever have a baby, I'd let them know how much I love them every minute of their day.

Maybe I'd be a horrible mother now that I think of it. I've never had an accurate mother figure. I wouldn't know how to raise a child the right way. All I heard were screams and rude comments about how unwanted I am in this house.

"Deirdre." I look up to see my mother sternly say, "Have you applied to that job your father wants you to do?"

"No, because it said that it's in a really dangerous bar here in the city. I don't want to go there."

"I don't care. You will go and apply whether you like it or not."

I swallow down my tears as I watch her put pieces of metal inside the empty water bottles so they can be heavier when given to the recycling center.

"And if I don't do it? What are you going to do? Kill me?"

My mother laughs at my comment and says, "Oh trust me. I've tried already in and out of my womb. But if I can't seem to kill you, then I'll kill your stupid dreams."

My heart is stabbed by this. This is something new. She tried to kill me already. My heart slowly starts to shatter as she says, "If you don't go get that job, I'll make sure your college expels you and all your artwork. And you will never see color or white sheets in your life!"

"Okay." I quickly get up and put the envelope in my back pocket so I can race to that address in the newspaper. I stop in front of this hidden door along a dark alleyway with a pant and stare up at the small sign saying to use the second door to enter through the front.

I walk down this long hallway filled with trash and drunk men. I make sure not to step on any of them as I gently open the door and enter another dim room. It's quite large to my surprise, but each person eyes me from head to toe. Especially the men.

Shivers run down my spine and I quickly find a bartender. "Hey. Uh. I saw this advertisement in the newspaper saying that you guys needed help?"

The man's icy eyes send goosebumps all over my body and I quickly go over to where he gestured for me to enter. I look around the room for any weapons I could use in my defense. Although, why would I stop them from hurting me? What's the difference between a broken heart and a broken nose?

I enter another small office where I can't help but cough from the strong smell of weed. The room itself is already foggy and I have to squint to see a man writing things down on a notebook. He has a large cigar in his mouth and I wave at the smoke coming out of his nose as I say, "Uh hello. I'm Deirdre and I was wondering if I could get a job here?"

The man only eyes me for a second and goes back to his notebook. He takes the cigar out of his mouth and lets out a large puff of smoke that makes me cough. "How old are you?"

"Nineteen. I'm almost twenty in two months."

"How sweet." I frown at his sarcasm and I'm surprised at how little I see of his physical attributes due to all the smoke covering his face. "How did you hear of us?"

"The newspaper gave out an announcement that you guys needed help?"

"Yes. We do. Are you a pole dancer?"

I scoff at this in surprise. "No. I don't do those things."

"Then you should not be here." Now he stands and I have to guide my head upwards. He has such tall features and his eyes burn through me like the end of his cigar when he puts it back in his mouth. "Unless you're good with alcohol."

If I go back home without a job, they're going to kill me. They're going to kill off what's left of my happiness. So I nod at this tall man and say, "Yes! I'm very good with alcohol. Whiskey is my favorite."

"Liar. Women aren't very good with whiskey. But you seem like a Brandy person."

I clear my throat and shrug. "I guess you're right about that..."

"Listen to me, little girl." Now he leans towards me and I take a fearful step back. I can see the dark brown in his eyes as he whispers, "There is only one rule here and that is that I'm always right. You hear me? You don't question me. You don't stop me. You don't talk over me. I am your boss and I get to decide your life here. Do you hear me, little girl?"

I quickly nod. "Y-yes."

"And also. I call you here. You don't ever come without getting called in."

"Yes, sir."

"Get out."

I run out and take in a breath from the little difference of air out of that office. I am never going back to that office for sure. With shaky knees, I make my way toward the bartender and say, "I'm supposed to work with you?"

"I don't know. Are you?"

I look at a man that passes by me and eyes my behind. I shiver and say, "Can you please just teach me what to do already so I can be behind the counter?"

He goes over with his tired face and dragging posture, and opens the side door for me. I quickly go in and find myself behind an incredibly dirty counter. The sink has some sort of goo and there are dead cockroaches everywhere.

I am terrified of those creatures.

I start to shake and the man furrows his brows. "What's wrong with you?"

I quickly look at him and back at the dead insects. "I-I...I'm afraid of cockroaches..."

He looks over at the dead insects and a devious smile starts up on his tired face. He takes a broom from the side and puts it in my hands. "Then that'll be your first job today. Clean up this place."

My eyes grow wide at him. "W-what?!"

"You heard me. Clean." Without another word, he goes off to tend to another man that has just sat down at the counter.

With trembling hands, I slowly go over to where the dead cockroaches are at. I swallow down my fear as I think of the reason why I'm here.

This is for my last glimpse of happiness. It'll all go away eventually. It'll all pass and you will go back to that museum soon.

I touch the cockroach a bit and see it move its many legs. Something within me snaps and I let out a scream. Before I know it, the bartender snatches the broom from me and says, "Let me do this, you useless idiot. Go attend to the customers!"

"Th-thank yo--"

"Go!"

I quickly do as he says as I go over to a large man with a smirk. His eyes go down my chest and they brighten.

Oh god. This is going to be a long day...