"Want another round or something honey?"

The man grumbled and threw a fifty at her before driving away in his shitty car. Men always acted like that when it was time for them to pay. She picked up the crumpled note and leaned against a damp poll, raising a cigarette to her glossy lips. It seemed like clockwork to the woman, get up, get ready and work her street until she had at least three hundred, every day that's all she experienced. It's not like she could take a vacation, money was always low, and her rent was way too high.

From across the street, seven girls, all stood flagging down cars and talking to men, their faux fur coats and short dresses covering their bodies bringing vehicles to a halting stop. New girls never dared to cross their street, disrespecting the veterans would mean a beating. Y/n had learned this the hard way as a kid, only sixteen when she started, and now the woman was twenty-four turning twenty-five this year.

The thing new girls lacked was caution, and they were too risky when it came to who they trusted and who they didn't. To them, random men in cars were more trustworthy than the thugs in the city. Now that could be true at times, but if you were a local prostitute, the thugs and gangstas usually didn't bother you. Being cautious around any man no matter if he was a local criminal or not was still a must, but with them, if they knew you, they wouldn't bother you. It's as simple as that if you knew a few local men, their friends wouldn't harass you; picking on hookers was seen as weak, and you would get a quick beating if you harassed one too much. Mostly if the girls were under pimps, you could get killed for touching the goods without paying.

Y/n didn't belong to anyone; she had no boss or pimp as she preferred to work on her terms. Getting wrapped up with pimps could be a dangerous game to play at, leaving wasn't an option, so unless you ran, you were stuck. The woman wanted to get out of the slums one day so being under a pimp wasn't an option, even for the extra security.

All the cars and eventually the lolitas disappeared leaving Y/n and two other women standing on an empty street; Her feet were aching, and no one was driving down the streets anymore; walking down a path, she began to make her way home. It was strange seeing no one on the roads, as they were usually bustling and full of life. Lately, people hadn't been going out at night. Probably due to that serial killer that's been getting around? What did they call him again? Was it the smiling killer?

A car rolled to a halt and pulled up next to her, Y/n saw a hooded figure with sunglasses and a white bandana covering his mouth. Customers didn't cover there faces up unless they had something to hide. A feeling of dreed entered her stomach.

"You a hooker sweetheart?" His voice was gravelly and low, almost a mumble. Y/n leaned in his window and smiled cautiously.

"Yeah but I'm on my way home handsome, and I don't do business with men who cover their faces." Y/n stated before turning her heel and walking away.

The car slowly rolled next to her. "Come on, how about some coke, huh? Bet you never get good drugs like that." A smoker with that dry, gravelly voice.

Y/n brung another cigarette to her lips and leaned against the open window, blowing smoke into his musty car, "How about you come back tomorrow night when I'm more prepared, you have some money, and then I'll give you a good time."

Y/n walked off into a dark alley and waited until his car was gone. Men who don't know when to stop are a concern. She didn't want to get into some randoms car, especially if there were no girls around. Also, a serial killer raping and murdering women meant people like Y/N needed to be a lot more cautious. Doing stupid shit like that is what gets women killed; Most hookers got into drugs, either for comfort or a way of payment to sell. Either way, Y/N was happy she had never accepted heroin or crack as a kid, she would've been a lot worst off then what she was right now. Being addicted to drugs on the street wasn't pretty. And looking like a scabby leper would be difficult for business.

The night was peaceful other than that and making her way towards her apartment; she tugged her coat tighter to her body. Every day the weather was becoming colder, and with no heating, she always dreaded the wintertime in her apartment. Getting a heater or some heating system in this city was far too expensive the price was three times her rent. And anything costing over twenty bucks was already too pricy for the woman.

Y/n couldn't get her mind off that man, how strange he was. No one ever covered their faces when trying to get a prostitute. Well, locals never did that; this meant he was visiting. Hopefully just passing through as Y/n didn't want to have sex with him the next night, she didn't like something about him. But when a night is slow, and money in tough any prostitute would fuck someone with the plague if it meant getting some cash.

She was trying not to think about the situation as she walked into her apartment complex, spotting her landlord in the process.

"Hey, Sam! Slow night tonight?" Leaning over the counter, she winked at the older man, waiting for him to reply. Y/n had been asking this every night for over a month; whenever Sam was there, she would taunt him with that same question. Knowing what the answer was going to be before he even turned his aged face towards hers.

Sam sighed and leaned towards her, "you have no idea missy! Barely anyone is coming in looking to rent tonight! Or even this last month for that matter! This goddamn serial killer got tourists scared like little bitches!"

Y/n laughed and puckered her lips, "what was his name again?"

The elders' brows furrowed and he threw his hands up in utter disbelief.

"His initials are JTK, but people call him the Glasglow killer! And don't you forget it! You could be next if you're not careful!"

JTK is what was found at the scenes, usually carved into the women's flesh. The way he did it to was gruesome not even Y/n could look at the crime scene photos. Skinning their breasts and carving a Glasgow smile into there faces was usually the way he did it. At times JTK would sexually assault them before slaughtering them.

"Any more news about that fella tonight?" He had been on the news every night and day for over a month, each report getting worse and worse as time went on. Y/n wondered if anyone even cared anymore. The woman usually didn't watch the news, but the girls on her street are pretty loud when they're talking.

His wrinkled face squashed and he slammed his hands onto the table, making the woman jump. "Killed seven more today, jeez! What lousy police we have in our city am I, right!" Sam scoffed and shook his head.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

Y/n's apartment consisted of a queen-sized bed tiny counter with a shitty portable stove and microwave ontop, mouldy bathroom with no mirror, a stolen TV and a single-window facing a brick wall. This place wasn't much, but it was home, and better than sleeping on a curb every night. From experience, the woman knew how harsh those streets were at night and how fucking territorial the cities homeless were!

Flopping down on her bed, she let out a small moan and turned the crappy TV on, hoping to see anything exciting.

Y/n felt her heart drop as she laid there on her bed, alone in the dark.

She lived in the south side.