"You ok, darlin'?"

Her breathing came to a halt as a large hand wrapped around her wrist; a gravely voice, leather gloves and a faint scar on the right side of his face, it was Patrick. Indeed, a face Y/n dreaded to see in this situation.

Patrick was a vicious pimp on the east side of this shitty town and he ruled with an iron fist. Seeing him strolling on the south side territory, alone was a strange sight to witness; he even had girls even on the south side. Which was rare if you ruled another sector of the city, for obvious reasons as the gang's rivalries would get out of control when seeing south side girls on the east or east whores on the north. Still, Patrick couldn't give a rats ass what his enemies thought of him; in fact, at this very moment, all he was wearing was a pair of pinstripe pants and leather gloves.

"I'm fine; I just got spooked." No fucking way Y/n was telling him what had actually happened back then. Partly because she was scared of the pimp and mainly because the thought of that killer getting ahold of her was terrifying. Talking about it would just make the paranoia worse, and all that was going through her thoughts were those baby blue eyes. Those goddamn eyes.

Patrick laughed and let go. "Look at ya! Who fuckin' spooked you, the devil himself!" Hearty laughter left his lips while his hands clapped together. Nothing was heard in the streets other than that clapping, it echoed and lingered just like the thought of Jeff.

Clap. Clap.

"I have to go, Patrick. My rent is behind!" Cried Y/N.

This, of course, was a complete lie on her part, and the woman was just praying he believed her. His face was sombre as he stroked his chin, seemingly mocking a detective trying to decide whether he should kick this chicks ass or leave her be. A hard and lengthy decision on Patrick's part as he always did love a bit of violence, especially towards some dumb whore who wasn't under his control. But tonight he was feeling generous enough it seemed. Turning his hairy back the man walked down the dark street without saying another word.

Running inside the apartment building she didn't spare any time for Sam, there would be no way Y/N could keep her composure around the old man.

The stairwell seemed to distort as her eyes blurred and her feet struggled to grip onto them. Adrenaline was still pumping through her veins and the woman still feared that monster was behind her, waiting to pounce. He was long gone by now and Y/N knew this, but it didn't stop her head from pounding and her legs shaking as Y/N ran up the never ending stairwell.

If it wasn't one thing it was another and she was tired of everything. Tired of men and their antics, tired of the life she had been living for twenty-four years.

What would the world have to offer if she left? Y/N had no trades or a proper education. No viable jobs under her belt other then strip clubs or brothels and nothing to offer. Her best talents were hand-jobs and downing a goon bag in five minutes! Even if she packed her bags and moved cities the streets would claim Y/N once again. Sucking the poor woman back into a life of heavy smoking and payed sex.

////////////////

A steamy shower was always one way Y/N relaxed, even as a child a scorching hot shower always cheered her up. Memories of falling asleep in a hot shower as a child always bought a smile to her face. But this time is wasn't doing much. Tears mixed with blood and tap water as Y/N shivered, not from the cold but from fear, fear of How did this event alone have such a big impact on her well being when she had dealt with far worse in her lifetime? Maybe it was due to life being mundane of the late, so this event caught Y/N off guard? Or perhaps trauma from her childhood had resurfaced? Although it was long ago sometimes she would have the occasional panic attack or outburst either from a unknown trigger or stress. Seeing as Y/n had grown up poor therapy or medication was not an option; she didn't even know what was wrong with her.

It was discouraging to know she obviously had some form of PTSD or depression; and knowing about this issue only made it even more frustrating for Y/N. Switching from foster home to orphanages had a strong impact on her mental and even physical health, especially when abuse was in the mix. Thinking back when she was a little girl Y/N wanted nothing more than to work with children, to help them and guide them down a better path.

Who knew this is how she would turn out?

Life was always funny in that sense, you could wish for something a million times but a single mistake or event could change your life forever. Whether it was crossing a road or just having on hit of heroin. Every single thing people did always affected their puny life's; if only Y/N had stayed in school rather then giving up so fast, rather than letting a bad childhood destroy her life. How fucking pathetic.

Why didn't she just let that man take her life? Yes it would've hurt but life hurts more, murder is the perfect way for a hooker to go. Dead and discarded after sex. Just another statistic or victim in the web of crime. Although there would've been no satisfaction of dying by Jeffs hand, it was better then committing suicide sooner or later.

////////////////

Turning her head to stare at the advertisement Y/n rolled her eyes at the TV. "Pfft, dumbest shit I've ever seen in my life."

Y/N was now sitting on her bed watching the small TV across from her; usually all the woman wore to sleep was a tank top and some shorts but due to what had happened earlier tonight a long sleeve shirt and track suit pants adorned her body. Finally her nerves had seemed to calm slightly although the thought of him creeping into the apartment and slaughtering her was still lingering. How did he even leave so fucking quickly? Obviously Y/N had heard the car but it was record speed, five seconds tops.

A serial killer has to be good at getting away, obviously.

Sam looked worried when she had ran past the counter, not even uttering a word to him poor man. Usually Y/N always stopped to chat with him so he definitely knew something was up. Saying that, no way he needed to know about this incident because as much as he hated the pigs that old bastard would still call them. Nobody on the south side ever dared to call the police, not most anyway due to how corrupt they were. Especially if you were a nightwalker calling the cops was the last thing you would want to do. Even though prostitution was rampant in town it was technically still . Meaning you get arrested for that the chance of a woman like Y/N getting raped or blackmailed by a cop was nearly one-hundred percent. The shit they would do to them was just utterly sick. For example, once Y/N had heard of a poor Lolita grade hooker being captured by the cops. Because she couldn't bribe them they decided to leave her in the male holding pen. For three days that woman was raped and beaten to the brink of death, until she had finally found a way to pay.

As immoral as this was, cops were usually small time pimps. If you couldn't pay bail and you were a woman. No matter if you were a prostitute or just stole a loaf of bread you were chained to a bed and bargained off until the debt had been paid. Everyone had been subjected to a situation like that at least twice, Y/N herself had some horrific memories with officers of the law. Some on the rare occasion could be kinder but they were all under a corrupt system so it didn't matter if some were kind. The majority were disgusting creatures who used and abused for their own personal pleasure.

Private eyes were another story entirely. Just another fucking scam that everyone fell for at least once. They would reel you in with big words and a trench coat then steal your money and leave you with shit all and ten people out for your blood. Once in her early years Y/N had hired one of these "everyday hero's" to track down some bitch who stole two hundred dollars from her. The only news she received was that of one angry pimp and two hookers that were now ready to beat her ass. And Sherlock Holmes was never seen again. In all honesty she swear they skipped town after their petty scams because they would vanish into thin air. She never did get that two-hundred dollars back.

Switching on the only emergency phone she owned Y/n stared fondly at the cracked screen and old lay out of the phone. Having a phone on you was a smart move to do but she couldn't have this luxury as data cost more then one-hundred dollars a month! No way she was going to pay something so stupid, instead whenever a emergency came up using the apartments free wifi was the only option.

Going through the contacts no one really stood out; social services, random hookers, random numbers and both her brothers and cousins phone number. Still labelling with a smiley face right next to them. It had been years since any of them had even thought of each other, Y/N's brother was twenty years older so she had only seen him once in her life while the she and the cousin (Jackie) had a falling out over five years ago and hadn't talked since. It was over her sex work as Jackie was quite the conservative type.

Sighing and slamming the phone down on the floor she held her hands up to her face, trying to block out any light inside the room; every time that phone made it's way back inside her mind a certain type of sadness washed over

Y/N. It wasn't exactly sadness it was more nostalgia, not particularly good nor bad just a feeling inside her stomach. Pushing her to call the only remaining family shared her bloodline.

No friends or family, if that killer had just killed her nobody would even know.

Sam didn't exactly count as a friend, he was a landlord and friendly receptionist not a friend. His company was very enjoyable and it always made Y/N smile but he was not a friend. To Sam, everyone in the apartment block deserved his kindness; until they left or until they couldn't pay. Who would honestly blame the hustle? If that was Y/N in his shoes she wouldn't even be at the block twice a month, let alone all year around. She had to give that to him, no matter the situation he always kept his head up and had a sharp tongue. Personalities like those Y/N always admired.

Her eyes were starting to flutter as sleep was finally coming to save the night. At this point Y/N could give less shits if a nightmare infected her sleep, all that matters is getting a good rest after the events that occurred tonight; Tugging the blankets closer to her head and hugging a pillow Y/N shut her eyes and fell into a deep slumber.