3. Emily

THREE

EMILY

I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. How many times can I say this to myself before I tell my boss to fuck off. A million, because I have a bloody debt to pay. I can't moan too much, it's better than what I was doing only a few months ago. It's just the same bar, but a different job now.

I had nothing, and couldn't find a single job, they all took one look at me and said no before even shaking my hand. Judgemental assholes.

You get into so much debt, by not paying rent, begging friends for money, until you go to the one place you never want to work. I'm not saying it's the worst job to have in the world, it's not. Some women out there enjoy it, and they're amazing at it. I sometimes watch a girl, and think, am I gay, because that was hot.

One year I worked as a stripper here, hated every second of it, but it paid me enough to slowly pay some of my debt off. I'm still in debt, but it's coming down penny by penny.

How did I get into so much debt? A few people have asked me, and I never know what to say to them, so I just tell them to mind their own fucking business.

How do I tell them all my money was spent on a private investigator, who took me for every penny I had?

It was my own fault for trusting someone the first time I met them, but I learned the hard way. If you want something done, do it yourself, so that's what I do. I take pictures of things I find out of place, I print internet articles, all to get one step closer to finding my sister. Am I any closer than I was a year ago? No, and I'm starting to wonder if I'll ever find her.

"Hey sweet cheeks, you need to get back up there. I miss you," Gray, a regular customer here every night without fail. Also, the reason I don't strip anymore, he got very aggressive, and because I wouldn't have sex with him in the private room, he grabbed my throat and slammed me against the wall. Security was in the room within seconds, and he's now on warning number two. I didn't think they would ban him, because the bastard spends too much money here, the only rule they had was he wasn't to get close to me. I had to laugh, that's how much strippers mean to places like this. Money before anything. I still needed the job, so they offered me the bar job, and I took it. At least I got to keep my clothes on.

"Should you be talking to me?" I ask, but walk away from him before he can answer me.

I've been working a side job from home to help get me out of my debt a little quicker, and I have to say I make some good money from it, if I get a good client for an image.

I take self images as a boudoir model, I've only just started, so I'm still getting my name out there, but again it's something to pay the bills. Not the dream job, I don't even have a dream job, never thought about it, all I want is my sister back, after that I will figure out what I want to do with my life.

"No, but I've missed looking at your naked ass-"

"You need to leave before I get you kicked out." I snap at him, creepy fucker who thinks he's the sexiest man in the room, but he's not even in my top one hundred.

This isn't your top-class strip club, it's a small club, with locals and the odd stag do coming in. You get some handsome men walking through the door but m most of them are upset about some family drama shit, I tend to stop listening once I've taken their drink order.

"I'm taking my break!" I shout over to Dave the other bartender, as the music seems to have gotten a little louder in the space of five minutes.

He gives me a nod, and I walk out the back, and light my cigarette, and dig out my phone to see if there are any new reports on missing children.

I know I will be able to find a link sooner or later. They have to fuck up somewhere. One day they have to do something wrong.

The one question which always makes me think about all the missing children is, how are so many going missing? Are the police doing anything about it?

Do they have someone on the inside to make sure all the missing kids are kept out of the news.

"You look like shit," I turn to Amber, shutting the door behind her, and leans on the wall next to me.

"Have you looked in the mirror?" I joke, she's the only girl here I get along with, she's the only one who doesn't think is better than me.

I always knew girls could be mean, but when you work in a place like this, you see a whole new side to bitch. You fight for the opening spot for the night, and then there are times when the club is busier, so the girls fight to dance.. They fight for the tips, and when I say they fight, they would sell their mother to get a space to dance for the guys.

"It's been a look week, all I want is a day off to sleep." Amber takes a sip of her water, and I stay quiet for a moment, because I know she's not been having the best time at home with her partner, who I swear is hitting her. She's not saying a word to me or anyone. Today she's hiding a blackeye with layers of makeup, each day she's coming to work with more and more makeup on her fac, because of what the asshole does to her.

"How is the little one?" I ask, not wanting to ask about her boyfriend.

"She's had a cold, not eating or sleeping, which is taking its toll on me." She looks over at the taxi pulling up at the end of the alley, and we see a group of guys stepping out of it. "Looks like the stag party has arrived."

"Does your mum have her for you?" I ask, still looking at the guys exiting the taxi, three of them stand as they light up a cigarette, or a joint can't really tell from here. One of the guys looks over at me, and I quickly turn to Amber not to make it obvious I was staring at them.

"Yeah, she's been a big help." She leans forward looking over at the guys, and smiles. "They are cute, you should-"

"Do nothing," I cut her off before she can finish the sentence, the number of times she's tried to hook me up with someone is crazy. No matter how many times I've told her I'm not interested in seeing anyone.

"I was going to say a nice quickie in the bathroom," she starts laughing, and I softly nudge her to the side shaking my head at her. "I'm sure he can give you a quick five minute rollercoaster." I burst out laughing, looking back over at them, as the three of them look over towards us, and I look behind them at another taxi pulling up. Their friends are here, meaning my break is over and time to serve some drinks, so they get drunk enough to give the girls some big tips.

Fuck it was a long night. Friday night and the club was a lot busier than normal. There were four stag dos tonight, and then an office leaving party. I didn't even get any breaks tonight.

Walking towards the bathroom to have a shower, because after night I bloody need one. Drinks were spilled, the amount of times someone grabbed my ass, I lost count. I feel dirty, and need to watch it off.

Stepping into the shower I let the water wash over me, and I take a moment to myself, which never lasts long because the night my sister was taken plays out frame by frame.

"You know you love to draw, why don't you design a tattoo?" My little sister Tanya says taking the pad off me, to see what I'm drawing today.

We come to this park every day, it's in front of the house, and we talk for hours. She's only three years younger than me, and my best friend.

"One day I will, how about you draw something, and that might be the one I get." I hand her my pencil, and let her doddle something. She's never been much of an artist, she got me to do all her art homework from school.

I watch her as she puts so much thought into her drawing, but the smile she's showing is huge, and I love that she's putting so much thought into it.

"Here." Handing the pad back to me, and I turn the pad over to see what she's drawn. "You'd draw it better than me, but I like it."

"And I love it-" I stop when a man stands behind Tanya, I look up as his face is covered by a cheap ski mask. I go to say something, but can't when someone wraps their hand around me, covering my mouth.

The man grabs Tanya, and I fight, and kick, anything I can to help my baby sister, but nothing.

I open my eyes, take in a deep breath, and look up so the shower water watches away my tears, tears which are always there, no matter what. The thought of my sister brings tears, because I can't imagine what she's going through, or if she's even alive.

"I will find you, I don't care how long it takes me," I whisper to myself.

Getting out of the shower, I get dressed, and sit on the floor in front of my coffee table at all the news articles I've printed off. Missing girls, dead girls, found girls, anything about a girl I've printed off. Not just here in London, but all over England. I've even started looking at articles from abroad, thinking they took her there.

I'm looking for one girl in a world with a population of over a billion.

Opening my laptop and type in the words I hate most in the word. ‘Girl dead body.' My finger shakes over the return button, even though I'm looking for my sister, and want answers, I'm scared she's dead. A fear no matter what shivers through me, because I know there's a chance my baby sister is dead.

I take a big sip of my wine, start reading through the articles from today hoping I see a picture of my sister, or a description of her. I know that sounds morbid, but I need to know what happened to her.

I sigh in relief after I've looked through all the headlines for today, and once again there is nothing on my sister. This is my nightly routine when I finish work. Searching the internet for any children who have been found dead, or whether police have found a girl with no ID or distinguishing marks. After finishing my wine, I grab my bag, phone and my keys before shutting the door behind me. I always make sure I lock it with the three locks I have. It sounds like overkill, but I don't live in the best part of London, and I've been robbed a few times. The fucked up thing is thatit's happened twice when I've been in the house, and I've lost count how many times I've been robbed whilst I've been out. I don't have anything worth stealing, so I'm not sure why they keep coming back for more. My camera is the most expensive thing I own, so I take it everywhere with me in my handbag.

This is another nightly ritual for me. I go to the place where I might meet someone who has seen my sister. It's the area all the homeless people sleep. Every night I spend an hour or two showing them a picture of my sister, hoping one of them might have seen her. Unfortunately, it's always the same answer. No.

Walking through the park, I look over at a couple fighting, and not privately, they are making sure everyone hears them. It's three in the fucking morning, is there any need to be so loud? Ignoring them, I continue walking through the park. As I get to the other side of the park, I hear a girl screaming. Instinctively, I look to my left and see a group of men grabbing two girls. I rush over to see if I can help the girls. I'm not one to run away from a fight, if it means I can protect someone then I will try to help. I don't care what happens to me in the process.

Digging my phone out of my bag, I get the camera up while I run towards the screams. and I take some pictures. I don't know if I am getting anything, but I'm hoping I can get a face or a car plate number to show the police.

After crossing the road, I grab one of the girl's hands, and start pulling her away from the guy. "Get off her!" I scream at him. e looks me dead in the eyes and starts laughing. "Leave her alone." I try to pull her closer to me, but the man is a lot bigger and stronger than me.

He stops pulling, but keeps a tight grip on the girl, and before I know what's happening a large hand moves at a fast pace and slaps my cheek hard. It's that fucking hard it knocks me down. I have a fight. I would want some to fight for my sister if she was in the same situation. My adrenaline is pumping around my body so I quickly get back up. However, the man grabs a handful of my hair, pulling me up to his face. My feet are off the ground now, I dig my nails into his hands to get him to loosen his grip on my hair, but it doesn't work.

"You've messed with the wrong people, watch your back," he shouts in my face. As if I weigh nothing at all, he throws me away. I land in a heap and I'm in pain, but that doesn't stop me trying to get up and get back to helping the girls. However, before I can even stand back up, the car is gone.

I crawl over to my phone, which is now cracked. "Just great, just fucking great." I shake my head as I press on the area where the fucker pulled on my hair. I swear he ripped out some hair, and I can feel the blood on my lips, too.

So much for trying to help someone. I switch my phone back on, and hope I've got a picture worth giving to the police. Otherwise, the slap was for nothing.

I close my eyes for a moment, my head hurting, I must have hit it on the pavement and not realised with everything that was happening.

Calling it a night I make my way back home, to sleep off the pain, because it's hurting like crazy right now. Hopefully in the morning I can get back on the streets before work.