Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
~Harlow~
Walking into my room, I briefly glance at my bed where I made my burrow. I want nothing more than to bury myself in my blankets, but I only have an hour. An hour to figure out somewhere to go. An hour before I am tossed out in the cold of night.
Grabbing a backpack, I stuff some clothes in it that will be suitable for work tomorrow and a pair of heels. I can’t take all my shoes, so I have to choose wisely and add a pair of heels and black flats. I set my boots next to the bag, intending to wear them after a shower.
I grab my gray parka and as many warm clothes as I can find and fold them carefully, stuffing as much in the bag as I can without breaking the zipper.
Afterward, I grab my handbag, squeezing any paperwork I need into it.
I set some warm clothes on the bed before rushing to shower and scrub the Omega scent off my skin.
I would be an instant target out there smelling like this.
Tears burn my eyes as I scrub my skin raw with my loofa.
When finished, I dress in leggings and pull a pair of jeans over them, a cami, a long-sleeved shirt, a sweater, and the parka, knowing it gets so cold here at night I could freeze, and I am pretty sure we are supposed to get a dusting of snow overnight.
I grab my beanie and woolen gloves, slip them on, and jam a small makeup bag into my handbag before retrieving every can of de-scenter.
I don’t know how I am supposed to fit in, but I have no choice.
I also retrieve my suppressants. I have three empty bottles, yet there is one that is still almost full.
However, I know it won’t last long. I will have to take extra if I don’t want to fall to my knees tomorrow at the damn office.
Had I known I would be working for four Alphas as a personal assistant, I can honestly say I would not have applied.
However, it is my only option now, so doubling up on my suppressants is the only chance I have, hoping I can pull a few nights at the club for Tal.
A shiver runs up my spine, remembering the men tonight, and dread makes my stomach sink and tears prick the corner of my eyes as the humiliation returns.
Shaking that thought away, I have to focus. I am about to step outside and be exposed, not only to the elements, but everything that goes bump in the night. Undoing the cap on my suppressants, I take three instead of my usual one nightly tablet.
Nerves are kicking in at the thought of heading out into the night.
I always make sure to be home before 8:30 p.m..
That is when the nasty shit happens in this city.
And now I need to find somewhere to stay.
I won’t make it back to the club this late without falling victim to someone, or something, so I rummage for the change in the bottom of my bag and groan.
$4.50. Yep, that will help. Not. Why was I stupid enough to hand Martha every cent?
I would have given her half had I known she would really kick me out.
With a sigh, I walk into the kitchen and open the cupboards.
I find some cans of spaghetti and moldy bread.
Looking in the fridge, I down the leftover milk straight from the carton, which is all of two mouthfuls, and put the cans of spaghetti in my bag along with a fork.
Grabbing my scarf and a throw blanket that’s light enough and small enough I can just squeeze it into my bag, I head for the door. The moment I toss it open, I find Mike standing outside, about to knock.
He looks over his shoulder before jamming a twenty into my hands. Mike gives me a wink and smiles sadly before briskly turning away. I pocket it and take one last wistful glance at my shitty apartment when he motions for me to step past.
Swallowing the bile that threatens to bubble up and spill out past my lips, I nod and head down the stairs, hearing Mike locking it up. When I reach the bottom, Martha is waiting with her arms folded.
“I’m sorry, Zara, but I gave you plenty of time,” she says, and I bite the inside of my cheek. I know she did. She has let me off the hook so many times, but it doesn’t make going out those doors any less intimidating.
She nods toward the doors before whistling. “Keys for the main door,” she says, clicking her fingers.
I was hoping I could sneak back in and sleep in the front entrance, but that option is gone now.
I pull the keys off my keychain before shaking my head and giving her the entire damn thing. I only had the keys to this place on it, anyway. I hand them to her.
“Good luck,” Martha says, opening the door for me. I step into the icy-cold, crisp night and shudder then look in both directions of the street. Now what?
Martha locks the doors behind me as I ponder my next move.
There aren’t that many options, and after a few minutes of walking, I decide it is best to stay as close to work as possible, seeing as I have no money to pay the fare for the bus to get there. The walk takes me an hour and a half before I am about a block away.
There is a small mall nearby, with a little outside area that leads into an alleyway.
With a sigh, my bones aching from the cold, I hesitantly step into the alley, listening for any noises of someone being up the alley.
I stumble over some garbage before finding a set of stairs that leads down to a storage area.
Glancing back up the alley, I see no one, so I sling my bag off my shoulder and descend the stairs, taking a seat beside the small roller door.
It isn’t the first time I've lived on the streets, and knowing my luck, this probably won’t be the last time.
This is what happens when you live a life on the run.
Yet, as I made myself comfortable, I couldn’t help but think if my twin was still with me, I would never be in this situation. Zara was resourceful. She always found a way, just like she found a way to save my life. She took my place, gave her life for mine, and here I am wasting it.
Zara would have been better off. It should have been me who died and not her. At least she wouldn’t be wasting her life. No, she would live her best one, while I sit here, trying to warm my fingers enough to swipe my phone screen to set the alarm so I won't be late on my first day.
I try to remember what time the mall opens so I can slip into the bathroom in the morning to get dressed and put a face on.
I am pretty sure it opens around 8 a.m., which would give me an hour to sneak in and quickly change before making the walk around the block to the skyrise and my new place of employment.
“I can do this!” I whisper to myself while resting my head back on the roller door. At least the stairs offered a wall to be protected from the ghastly, icy breeze.