Starting As A Wh*re

The darkness of the night seemed to swallow Miss Yabawa whole as she stood at the railing, staring down at the river below. The water flowed effortlessly, a stark contrast to the turmoil that churned within her. She felt like she was drowning in her own despair, unable to escape the crushing weight of her responsibilities.

"Ah, what the hell," she muttered, throwing her bag over the railing. It landed with a soft splash in the water below. "Take this, too." Her voice cracked as she spoke, the words barely audible over the sound of her own heavy breathing.

As she stood there, the clock struck midnight. The sound of the bell tolled through the night air, a haunting reminder of the passing time. Miss Yabawa wore a grey coat and pants, her dark hair hidden as was in a Nun's outfit. Her black shoes seemed to blend with the shadows, making her almost invisible in the darkness.

But she wasn't invisible to herself. She felt every ache, every pain, every desperate thought that coursed through her mind. And she knew she couldn't take it anymore.

With a heavy heart, she turned away from the river and began to walk down the pier. A bar caught her eye, its neon lights a beacon in the darkness. The bell above the door jingled as she entered, and the bartender looked up, his expression a mixture of curiosity and wariness.

"I'm closing up, ma'am," he said, his voice firm but polite.

Miss Yabawa rummaged through her pockets, pulling out a handful of dollars. "Take this," she said, slapping the cash on the counter. "Give me a bottle of wine. I'll be dead soon, anyway. Why not enjoy myself before I go?"

The bartender's expression softened slightly as he looked at the cash. Then, a man appeared out of nowhere, his eyes fixed intently on Miss Yabawa.

"Hey, don't you see she means it?" he said to the bartender. "Give her the bottle."

The bartender nodded, taking the cash and handing Miss Yabawa a bottle of wine. She took it and walked out, sitting down on the fence to drink. The man followed her, sitting down beside her as she finished her drink.

"I heard you were planning to kill yourself," he said, his voice low and smooth.

Miss Yabawa looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time. He was dressed in a tuxedo, his hair perfectly styled, and his beard neatly trimmed. There was something about him that seemed...familiar.

"I've lost everything," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "What else can I do?"

The man smiled, his eyes glinting in the dim light. "Work for me," he said. "I'll pay you well."

Miss Yabawa raised an eyebrow. "What kind of work?"

The man's smile grew wider. "Every job is worth respecting," he said. "You'll do what I ask, and I'll pay you handsomely."

As the night wore on, Miss Yabawa found herself agreeing to things she never thought she would. And when the sun rose the next morning, she woke up in her own bed, a wad of cash in her hand and a piece of paper with an address on it.

She fell back onto the bed, the memories of the previous night still foggy in her mind. But one thing was clear: her life would never be the same again.