Rebuttals

Savannah sank deeper into the couch, taking another drag from her cigarette. She closed her eyes, letting out a contented sigh as she recalled the events of the past. It had been a wild night, even by her standards. But now it was 2 am, and she was ready to relax into a well-deserved sleep.

But just as she was about to drift off, her phone began ringing on the other side of the room. Savannah groaned, wondering who could possibly be calling her at this ungodly hour. She recognized the ringtone - it was hers. With a heavy sigh, she got up and lazily made her way across the room.

Her eyes were heavy with sleep, and she stumbled over something on the floor. Savannah looked down to see the body of a hooker she had brought back to her apartment earlier that night. The woman was sleeping soundly, oblivious to Savannah's frustration.

With a scowl, Savannah continued towards the table where her phone was still ringing. She picked it up and squinted at the screen, the brightness of the phone making her eyes water.

The phone stopped ringing just as Savannah was about to answer it. She let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed her temples. But then it started ringing again, and this time she answered it without hesitation.

"Hey, George," she said, her voice gruff with sleep.

"Why the hell haven't you been picking up your phone? This is what? The Umpteenth time I called?" George demanded, his voice laced with irritation.

Savannah rolled her eyes. "Relax, I was in the kitchen. What's up?"

"You know damn well what's up," George said. "Olivia's event is in five days, and you need to be there on time. Keyword, On Time."

Savannah felt a pang of guilt. She had nigh missed the last event, and she knew how much it had upset Olivia. She promised herself she wouldn't let it happen again.

"I'll be there," she said, her voice softening. "I promise."

"You'd better be," George warned. "Olivia's not going to be happy if you're late again. You know how annoying it gets when she is, right?

"I know, I know," Savannah said, sighing heavily. "I'll be there."

"Good," George said, his voice softening. "And tell me then. how's that boyfriend of yours doing? The one with an absolutely lacking sense of humor. Jeffery was it?

Savannah couldn't help but smile at her brother's concern. "It's Jefferson and he's good, thanks for asking." she said. "His sense of humor is actually modern and therefore acceptable. You must be so old you can't even distinguish between what's funny and what isn't. Besides, why do you care so much?"

"Because you're my sister, and he's important to you," George said, his voice gentle. "I want to make sure he's treating you right. Wouldn't it be a good idea to invite him for the event. I mean, a perfect time for him to have the greatest time of his life. probably the last."

"Thanks for the rather gentlemanly gesture, but I don't think an invitation would be nice, especially to him. Besides, he hates gatherings such as this and you know it" Savannah sprung up in a defensive tone.

"Well, it's your choice. I mean, Who am I? I'll see you in five days. Take care till then," George said, his tone lightening up.

"See you," Savannah replied before ending the call.

She let out a deep breath and slumped back onto the couch. She couldn't shake off the feeling of annoyance that she felt towards her brother. He always acted like he knew what was best for her, even though he didn't.

She took another drag from her cigarette, trying to calm herself down. She knew she had to get some sleep if she was going to be able to face the upcoming event. But as she stood there, all she could think about was the past and the mistakes she had made.

Stranding in the midst of her cluttered apartment, surrounded by the remnants of a wild night, she gazes around with a sense of guilt and regret. Hookers lay strewn about the place, half-dressed or completely nude, their bodies contorted in unnatural positions. Clothes are flung haphazardly across every surface, and empty bottles and drug paraphernalia litter the floor.

With a heavy sigh, Savannah begins to pick up the scattered garments, feeling a pang of remorse with each item she retrieves. As she crosses the room, stepping over the sleeping bodies of the hookers, she can't help but wonder how she got here. This is not the life she had envisioned for herself, at least the unkept-apartment part.

But she has no time for self-pity, not now. She needs to get to work, and she's already running late. She quickens her pace, scooping up as many clothes as she can carry, and depositing them into a pile near the door. Her eyes drift to a cloth hanging on the wall near the TV, and she realizes that it's covering a wall clock.

She reaches for the cloth, standing on tiptoes and stretching as far as she can, but it's just out of her reach. She surveys the room, spotting a chair in the corner, and drags it over to the wall. Climbing onto the seat, she reaches for the cloth again, her fingers brushing against the surface of the clock.

With a sudden start, she pulls back her hand, as if burned. The clock reads 2:15am, and she curses under her breath.

"Shit" she mutters as aware that she's already late for her night shift, and therefore can't afford to waste any more time.

Savannah hurries to the kitchen, her mind racing as she tries to come up with a plan. She knows she can't leave the hookers here unattended - they'll steal everything that isn't nailed down. But she can't just kick them out either, not without causing a scene. She needs to wake them up and get them out quietly.

Her eyes meet so many weapons as she searches for the best suited for non-conflict. Ranging from knives on the chopping board of her kitchen, to guns in the drawer. An idea pops up in mind as her eyes fall on a frying pan on the counter, and she snatches it up, along with a spoon. Returning to the living room, she begins banging the spoon against the pan, creating a loud clanging noise that reverberates through the room.

The hookers stir, groaning and muttering as they slowly come to consciousness. Savannah keeps up the racket, hitting the pan with increasing fervor, until every last one of the hookers is awake and alert.

"Alright, everyone up!" she shouts, the volume of her voice matching the intensity of the clanging. "Time to go! I don't want to see anyone here when I get back! Now off you go ladies. Off you go!"

The hookers groggily begin to gather their things, stumbling around the room like zombies. Savannah watches them warily, ready to intervene if anyone tries to steal anything. But they leave without incident, and she breathes a sigh of relief as she locks the door behind them.

Savannah quickly changes into a black dress, discarding her ragged jeans on the floor. She runs a hand through her hair, trying to smooth out the tangles and knots. She looks clumsy and disheveled, but she has no time to worry about her appearance now.

She heads out of the apartment, locking the door behind her, and makes her way down the dimly lit hallway. The sounds of the city outside - cars honking, people shouting, music blaring - assault her senses, and she feels a sense of dread and apprehension wash over her.

But she can't let herself be afraid. She has a job to do, a duty to fulfill. She takes a deep breath and steps out into the night. Uncomfortably, she stumbles through the nights, trying to stay on her feet. The honks for passing cars helped keep her awake as she slowly but surely made her way to the bar at where it was her shift. The bar was fortunately for her, not too far from base and so some might say she strolled to work.

"You're late Savannah. Again. I mean I can't seem to understand it. You have one job. literally. Just one."

Says a bulky gentleman standing at the entrance of a bar that says above it

'Purgatory Somniloquy'. A rather disappointed expression on his face, his tone matched the emotion of anger, which made Savannah unsure of how to approach this situation.

"I'm sorry. I was busy this time. It wasn't my fault. I was held up." Savannah said in her defense but all to no avail.

"You said that the last time, and the one before that--

you know what? Forget it. Just take the keys."

he said, stepping closer to her at breath distance, handing her the keys and giving off a smile of relief.

"Okay?" Taking the keys reluctantly, she asked.

"You have that date today no? did you think I'd forget Juan?"

"No I didn't. That's exactly why I had hopes you'd arrive sooner. God help me she's still waiting at the spot we agreed on. Good luck. I have to go now." He said moving hastily into the night-darkened streets. Few steps from the brightly Litten bar, he stops, turns to Savannah, who had made her way into the bar and was about closing its' outer doors.

"Oh, how can I forget?"

"What is it?"

"A man came here looking for you. I asked how the both of you know each other he said it was by 'blood'. Some awful creep he is."

"Oh, I see."

"You know who he is though right? Just wanted to tell you. the last time I checked, he was still in the bar. Just watch your six okay? wouldn't be the first time stuff has happened to you."Juan said with a rather concern look on his face this time.

A true friend, Juan had known Savannah fro as long as he remembers. He already had the job before Savannah applied for it, and possibly the only reason Savannah still has one to savor.

"I know. I'll be sure to be careful. Besides, I'm sure of who it is this time" Savannah said, closing the door.

"Who is it?" Juan said, adding an extra force to his tone in a sense that it felt like he was shouting.

Savannah left his question unanswered as she entered the multi- colored bar. Beethoven's Fur Elise could be heard playing in the background with a brilliance that followed its' sound coming out of a piano. She looked towards the bartender spot, it was empty. Looked, round, sits were quite empty.

"Not bad for a start." She said to her self, as she navigated her way through the empty bar and unto the bartender's spot. On getting there, she sees there is no man as Juan had mentioned before and quietly releases a sigh of relief. She looks round, noticing only three people in the bar, she immediately gets her hands busy with the cups.

"Which of them did Olivia send this time?" She said out loud, wishing that the culprit show his face and rather not waste her time, not that she had anything doing at the moment.

Upon no response, she immediately reaches for a shotgun laying under the stand and upon raising her head to look, a gun is pointed straight at her. Out of no where, a figure appeared. Tall, Wearing a rather long cloak with a cigarette in his mouth.

Helpless, Savannah utters. "Well, well, well, if it isn't a pleasure to have you at my humble abode. You of all people. I wonder. It seems the situation is actually quite dire. Don't you think so, brother..?"