Princess

The cold air dug like icy spikes at her bare skin as she left the bar. For a moment the snow outside was bathed in the warm orange glow, before the door swung shut again, blocking out the noise and light, leaving her isolated in the cold, bland white-ness. It was probably her fault, if you thought about it, because she was the one who decided to wear barely anything, promising herself to be home earlier in the evening, when it was marginally warmer. However, it had been a hard day, and she needed to relax, have a few drinks.

The door must have opened again, as the snow around her sparkled in the light. She turned around, but it was too late to catch the person. It didn’t matter, though, if she saw them or not. All that mattered was getting home. So, pulling the thin jacket even tighter around her chest, she set off, trying to ignore the thoughts of boogie monsters and other such childish nightmares. But the feeling of being watched set in and wouldn’t leave, even as her feet hit the cleared footpath.

All noises echoed on the pavement, and she was now aware of another person behind her. Presumably, the person from the bar. Their steps were quicker, and the breathing harsh, as they gained. She sped up, pumping her numb legs, urging them on. Still, they kept coming, as the young woman took a nervous turn into a darkened alley.

Silence settled once more, but the breathing, that constant, lust-filled breathing wouldn’t leave her be. She turned frantically again, and again, knowing the streets well enough to be able to keep a track on her whereabouts. Then they stopped.

Whoever they were had paused.

Or disappeared.

She faltered before she set off again on shaking legs.

And then, they were beside her. Like all those monsters had come together to get her. She tried to calm down -- normal, rational people would not be so upset.

But, at the time, she could not be normal or rational, for a hand grabbed her own. Then it let go, and trailed along her side. She could imagine each indent on the finger tips, each irregularity. The hand rested on her thigh, below the start of her unhealthily short skirt. She gasped, as the hands made small patterns, like spider webs, along her bare skin. Goosebumps rose, and, for the first time, she could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and the shaking all over, not caused by the cold.

This couldn’t be the end.

Her legs lead her down a street, before turning onto her own street. She didn’t dare look at the person beside her, feeling slowly up. She controlled herself -- just keep walking.

And walking.

And walking.

Until the pale golden street lamp caught her again. Caught them both in the act, but there was no one around to see. They had all long since gone to bed. Nobody was out in such weather. Just keep walking.

And walking.

And walking.

To the door. The safety of home didn't offer any comforts to her now. Her door.

Where she turned.

The older man smiled hungrily, and watched her with foggy eyes. One hand still rubbed up and down her thigh, the calloused fingers offering no warmth.

And then she knew.

She opened the door.

And led him in.

Just a way to survive…

As a Red Light Princess.