Chapter 1

• Astrid
• "Astrid, you can do it."
• I tell myself. "It's just another night of work like any other."
• My phone beeps in my hand, and a couple of messages flash across the screen. But that's not what catches my attention. Ten minutes. I'm ten minutes late already.
• 'Astrid, where are you? It's opening time. Astrid!!! Layla just went on stage now, and your number is coming up. Astrid!!'
• 'You're really pissing me off. You better answer your phone.'
• I read the text messages and sigh. My boss, Dom, is going to chew me out for coming late, but I'll find a way around him. I always do.
• I step into the club, and the familiar blast of music hits my ears in full force. It took a while for me to get used to it. I look around the crowded room with sweaty drunk men throwing money at practically naked dancers, and I sigh, remembering what this place is through and through. A strip club.
• I go on stage and begin to dance. The shameless men begin to throw lewd and crude words at me, and I frown in disgust as I dance. I hate them touching me, and sometimes they take it too far.
• When I'm done, I leave the stage immediately and go into the dressing room. Change my clothes, undo my makeup, and get ready to leave.
• “When are you going to make up for the time you wasted?” Dom asks. He's standing by the door.
• “Tomorrow, I'll work extra shifts,” I reply. I would do it immediately, but I’m damn tired and need time to rest.
• “Okay then.” He shrugs before throwing my pay at me.
• I step out of the club, and two men appear in front of me.
• “Who are you?” I ask in a clipped tone, taking a step backward. My heart races in fear.
• They’re gruff-looking men, big. Too big and scary-looking. One has a fully bearded face; the other has a large ugly scar slashing from his left ear to the right one.
• “This one will do,” the bearded one says, and the other nods in approval.
• Do what?
• “What are you—” My voice trails off.
• They suddenly charge at me, placing a gag in my mouth to muffle my screams. I thrash, fight, and try to scream. But all to no avail.
• The bearded one carries me on his shoulders, holding me in place as they carry me towards a room.
• “Please don't do this,” I plead in between sobs, but all my pleadings fall on deaf ears as the men carry me straight to a VIP room in the club through the back. I yell at the top of my voice, throwing my hands in the air, hoping someone would hear me but all my screams are muffled with the loud music.
• They drop me inside the room and leave, locking the door after them.
• “No…no.. hey!!!! Who's there!!! Help me!!” I call in despair, knocking on the door, hoping someone will hear me and come to my aid. But no one comes.
• “Please–” I beg in tears and suddenly turn as I feel a presence in the room. I'm not alone. Fuck. Fuck.
• “Who's there?” I ask in alarm.
• I started to observing the room. It's like every other VIP room in the club – lit with blue lights, but not too bright, just enough to see your surroundings.
• Fear creeps up my spine as my eyes land on the bed. I'm not a fool to not know what goes on in here. People only come here to fuck or carry out other crude activities. But I'm not a willing candidate.
• “Just let me go, please–” I cry helplessly, and a man appears from the shadows.
• “We're going to make it quick. Get on the fucking bed,”