~Dessa~

As Maggie walked away, Dessa's heart twinged with the fear that her outburst had marred her trainer's opinion of her. What if she thought she was a wimp who couldn't hack it? Dessa's stomach felt painfully full after only a few bites each of the delicious roast and potatoes. It made her feel much better than she had in weeks, but she was put out by how little she could actually eat. Her stomach had shrunk, and she worried that stretching it out would make her even hungrier tomorrow. But at least she would have a guaranteed meal to count on. She would eventually be able to work her way up to finishing her daily meal, if she managed to prove she could do this job. Not to mention, if she survived the trek through the Killing Grounds each day. Dessa sighed, looking down at all the wasted food. Her eyes wanted to gorge on it, but her stomach wouldn't let her. If she tried to force it, she would throw up and she would be worse off than she was before. She would be throwing up for days and end up dehydrated. It wasn't worth that, no matter how tasty it was.

As her thoughts strayed, and her head was more clear from finally eating something, she thought of that man's voice that had distracted Maggie enough so that she didn't have to explain her tears, and how it had sounded familiar in some way. She turned in her seat to see a man with a book in front of his face, and a cigarette in his other hand. Wisps of smoke wound like ribbons in the air. He was wearing black leather gloves, which was odd. What - is he afraid of papercuts? Dessa joked inwardly. Did he drive a motorcycle or something? He had tattoos winding around his impressively muscular arms. Aside from the book in his hand, she guessed that he would fit her idea of a biker. She couldn't see his face, but she could see that he had black hair, and he was wearing a fitted charcoal-colored T-shirt that seemed out of place among the luxurious interior of The Den. But then again, in her hoodie and jeans, she was also out of place. She didn't have anything professional-looking to wear for the interview (that never took place) so she had just put on what looked the most clean. She hadn't felt very frumpy until she had walked into The Den.

Okay, she just realized that she was gawking for far too long, so she tore her eyes away and stood to take her hardly-eaten platter of food to the kitchen, hoping that the man had been too engrossed in his book to notice her staring at him like a weirdo. He seemed to be a regular patron, based on his comment to Maggie earlier, and if that was the case, it would be pretty embarrassing to make herself look like a crybaby and  a freak who stares at people. That would be a wonderful  impression to make on someone that she would have to serve, and see often.

When Dessa walked away, a peculiar feeling stirred in her chest, like she had left something behind. She shifted the platter to one hand, thankful for Maggie's tutelage, and reached with the other to pat her hoodie pocket - reassuring herself that she hadn't left her phone on the table. She had never even pulled it out while she was sitting there. She glanced back toward the table to see if she had left anything else, but there was nothing of hers in sight. She hadn't left anything. Weird. Seeing that didn't quell the strange feeling that she was missing something.

Oh, shit!

The man she'd been staring at moments before had lowered his book enough to peer in her direction. Was she just letting her anxiety get to her, or was he glaring at her? She could only see his dark eyes fixed on her, but she went scarlet and her heart skipped a beat. Oh, God, no. He must have known that she was staring at him the entire time! He raised an eyebrow at her, and she turned around and hurried down the hallway, mortified.

Once she was back in the kitchen, Hans offered her a to-go box for the rest of her food. He looked a little miffed, like he thought that she hadn't enjoyed his cooking, and that was why she'd hardly touched it. Dessa was quick to tell him that it was the most delicious meal she'd ever had, and that she just wanted to take it home, so she didn't feel the need to scarf it down in order to get back to work. Hans only grunted in response, but his eyes lit up at the compliment as he resumed his cooking. Maggie came in a moment later with empty platters, and after she took them to the dish pit, she led Dessa to a refrigerator where she could store her leftovers, instructing her to write her name on it with a marker. And then, the training began again.

Maggie shadowed her as Dessa took a few orders in the parlor room. Dessa was relieved to see that the man in the leather gloves was gone, by then. She felt a wave of pride when she delivered the orders to the right tables, without stumbling over her own two feet or spilling anything. The patrons were a little odd, like they, too, were from a different era, but no one was mean to her. If anything, they were abundantly patient with her newness and lack of experience. She stammered and jumbled her words, but they all seemed used to that behavior. Maggie explained to her in between orders that they were constantly having waitresses quit, and so the patrons made sure to have a lot of leniency for mistakes, given that the new hires were as frequent as they were impermanent. Dessa tried to assure Maggie more than once that she had no plans to quit, though it didn't seem like the woman was willing to get her hopes up too much. Maggie had clearly been burned too many times by trainees who had certainly said similar things on their first day. So Dessa didn't blame her for being incredulous, but she was determined to prove her wrong. Dessa was really starting to like Maggie, and she wasn't going to disappoint her. She obviously deserved the help, and Dessa only hoped that she could be of service to her in a way that made her job easier.

By the end of her shift, Dessa was already getting the hang of things, and she felt more confident in her ability to do the job. She felt confident in general, like having a job that she could do made her a more competent human being. Maggie looked as exhausted as Dessa felt when she told her that it was time to be measured and fitted. The Den was beginning to close up shop for the night, and on the way back through the parlor room, she saw that there were far less patrons still dining. There was a cleaning crew going around to each empty table with silver candle snuffers - extinguishing the flames, removing the candles and replacing them with unused ones. Some of them were making sure the books were shelved properly, some were shoveling ash from the fireplace into a metal bin, and some were wiping down the bar. The cleaning crew were all men in dark suits - they worked efficiently, and it was entrancing - the manner in which they moved about the room in a synchronized, choreographed way that could only be achieved by doing the same thing every night for years. Just one of them looked up to bid Maggie a good night, and Maggie smiled at the young man, only nodding in his direction as she and Dessa exited through the foyer and strode to the dressing rooms.

Once they were there, Maggie introduced her to one of the ladies-in-waiting, a copper-haired girl by the name of Penny. Dessa thought that the name fit her really well. After they were properly introduced, Maggie told Dessa that she would see her tomorrow night (if she dared to come back,) and left her to be fitted while she went to another dressing room to change out of her uniform.

At first, Dessa was extremely uncomfortable with the prospect of undressing and standing in front of Penny, a girl she had just met, in only her underwear, but Penny put her at ease by assuring her that it was nothing she hadn't seen before. Dessa tried to relax, however, Penny's next comment had her on edge, as she knelt down to measure Dessa's hips.

"Though, I don't believe I've ever seen someone so skinny," Penny admitted quietly. "I should say that you could use some meat on your bones."

Penny's eyebrows furrowed with hardly-veiled concern, but she seemed to try and smooth her expression into one of concentration, as she moved up to measure Dessa's waist. Dessa watched Penny's milk-chocolate brown eyes trail over her ribs, surely frightened a bit by how emaciated her body was, but she said nothing. Penny probably assumed that Dessa was anorexic, and didn't want to offend her by questioning it or commenting on the assumption. After she finished measuring her waist, Penny straightened to her full height and instructed Dessa to hold her arms out, so she could get her bust measurement. Dessa held her breath, and stared at an insignificant spot on the ceiling, feeling like she couldn't "measure up" to any normal standard of what a woman should look like, trying not to move a muscle, so that her fitting could be over with already. Once Penny had all she needed, she clucked her tongue as she scribbled the measurements down on a notepad.

"Alright," Penny said with a friendly smile. "Our seamstress should have the garments altered for you by tomorrow evening, but if not, you might need to borrow one of the extras, until they are ready for you. An extra will most likely be too large, but you'll just have to make do."

Dessa quickly began to pull on her hoodie so her ribs, that poked out too much, wouldn't be on display for a second longer.

"I actually work tomorrow night, as well, so I'll be here to help you dress. If you stick around long enough, you'll soon be able to do it without assistance." Penny was trying to sound encouraging, and Dessa smiled as she shimmied her jeans up her legs.

"Thanks, Penny," Dessa told her, grateful to be fully clothed again, and feeling more comfortable talking to her, now that she was - like she had her armor back, and Penny was no longer a threat to her fragile feelings. "I'll definitely see you tomorrow."

Penny appeared to be more inclined to believe that she would be back than Maggie had, and she snickered as she said,

"I'll hold you to that."

Her words were accompanied by an adorable finger-gun gesture, and then she scurried away to leave Dessa's measurements for the seamstress. As Dessa pulled her sneakers back on, she wondered if it mattered what shoes they wore, since the gowns were floor-length. She hoped she could still wear sneakers, even if that would feel a little strange. She didn't own any shoes that weren't  sneakers, and she wouldn't be able to buy any. But she supposed that if they supplied everything else, that they most likely had footwear, too, if it was required. So she didn't need to worry about it right away. Maggie still hadn't come back out, but she'd already said her goodbyes, so Dessa decided that it was time to grab her leftovers and walk home.

https://youtu.be/eHECKcnloCE

The idea filled her with dread. She had almost forgotten that she was in the most dangerous part of the city - The Den had made her feel perfectly safe, but now she had to leave. And it would be fucking dark outside. Way easier for a murderer (or a faerie) to snatch her up. Anxiety trilled up and down her chest as she retrieved her leftovers from the kitchen. Hans was closing it down, and his fellow cooks were busy putting things away and scraping the grill.

"See you tomorrow, Hans," Dessa called out to him with a wave, as she went to leave. He grunted and lifted a couple fingers from his rag as a wave, but otherwise said nothing. She hoped that he hadn't misinterpreted the warble in her voice as a bluff, rather than the building fear that it actually was. As she walked through the parlor room for the last time that night, there were only a few patrons still dining, and most of the cleaning crew had cleared out, save for just a handful of them. With the massive parlor room mostly empty now, she once again was in awe (as well as a little freaked out) by its eerie haunted mansion vibe. She tried to fight through the anxiety that niggled at her, whispering in her head that the remaining patrons were all staring at her on her way to the foyer. She could practically feel their eyes boring into her back as she made her way to the exit. Don't look back, they aren't staring at you. You're just freaking out, because you're scared to walk home. But she couldn't stop herself from risking a glance to assure herself that she was being ridiculous.

What the fuck!?

She snapped her head back around so fast that she could have given herself whiplash. Every single one of them was staring her way!

It's a hallucination - you're seeing things! Your nightmares have you so tired that you sleep more than you're awake! You're hardly eating - your imagination is getting the best of you! It wasn't real - your eyes are just playing tricks on you!

A million excuses raced through her mind as she passed the hostess at her podium.

"Goodnight, Lola!"

Dessa called out to the hostess who was gathering up her purse to leave for the night. Her voice came out too shrill - it sounded more like a shriek, but she couldn't look back to check Lola's reaction. Who cares if she thinks you're weird? You are weird! You think everyone is out to get you! You think faeries are going to eat you. You're a fucking LUNATIC, Dessa!

Once her shoes hit the sidewalk outside, her fear multiplied. Fuck, fuck, fuck!  She had to walk home now. The air outside was distinctly more chilly at night - hinting at the impending winter season. Her shallow, panicked puffs of breath were making little clouds of steam in front of her as she walked. She just needed to make it out of the Killing Grounds, and then she would feel better. Put one foot in front of the other. Keep moving. Don't think. The sound of her own footsteps made her feel like someone was following her. A passing car honked at her and she jumped with a pitiful yelp. Dessa shifted her to-go box to rest on her hip so she could fish around in her pockets for the tips she'd earned. She pulled out the small wad of crumpled dollar bills, but she couldn't hope to count them with her other hand occupied. She quickly bent down to set the to-go box by her feet, so she could use both of her shaking hands to unfold the bills and count them. Was that enough to take a cab once she made it out of the Killing Grounds? She fucking hoped so!

She shoved the money back in her pocket and picked up her to-go box. Her legs were so damn tired and sore, but she had to move - the longer she was in this dangerous area, the higher the chance that something bad would happen to her. She sure as hell didn't want to be the next eviscerated body on the news. If she wasn't so brainwashed, she would run!

Damnit, Auntie, why did you have to do this to me? What if it's what gets me killed? Would you be sorry?

Dessa fought back the sting of tears. She couldn't afford her vision blurring - she needed to keep her eyes peeled. Then again, what could she really do if someone, or something, attacked her? She had no weapons, no fighting experience - she couldn't run! She might as well just lay down and die, in that situation. There was nothing she could do to save herself.

As morbid as it was, that revelation helped her calm down, little by little. If it happens, it happens. You can't stop it. Weirdly, accepting the idea was easing her anxiety of murderers and faeries, if only for the moment. Everyone dies at some point - it's inevitable. If it ended up being her fate to die in a grisly fashion, she supposed that it could be worse. She had no one left to care what happened to her, so at least she wouldn't cause any grief for anyone. Yes, it's fine. It's fine.

She had gone as far down the way as she could remember, and she finally needed to pull out her phone and check the route on her GPS to make sure that she didn't get lost. She knew that she was even more susceptible now that both her hands were full, and her eyes were focused on a screen, but it couldn't be helped. She needed the food, and she needed the directions. She fiddled with the settings, and finally figured out how to enable the GPS to tell her the directions out loud, so she could put the phone back in her pocket. One day, she'd been messing around with the app and accidentally disabled the computerized voice, and didn't have a clue how to change it back. Yes! Score 1 for Dessa!  She breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that she was a tiny bit safer with one free hand and no screen distraction. Everything was going to be okay. She tried to keep her thoughts occupied between the directions given by the GPS.

So maybe I won't be able to afford a car, but a bicycle could be doable, right? How much does a bicycle cost, anyway? I'll look it up when I get home. Would riding a bike incite a faerie? Would that be a reason for them to chase, all the same?

"Ugh," Dessa muttered under her breath, chastising herself for thinking like faeries actually existed.

Weren't human murderers lurking in the Killing Grounds enough to worry about? Should she really be adding faeries to the mix? It was ridiculous to be afraid of mythical creatures at her age. She was old enough to know that her aunt was crazy, so why was she still worrying about nonsensical things? Grow the fuck up, Dessa. Seriously.

Dessa could have jumped for joy when she finally made it out of the danger zone. She immediately pulled out her phone to find a cab company to call. She kept her pace as she dialed the number. When she spoke to the tired-sounding cab dispatch lady, Dessa asked her how much it would cost to get her from point A to point B. When the woman told her the price, Dessa apologized and hung up. She didn't have enough - not even close. Looks like she was walking the whole way. On the bright side, she hadn't been attacked, or murdered. She had food to eat when she made it back home. She had a job, now. As long as she kept her chin up, she could keep her head above water.

She had to stay positive. She had managed to do it all day. Well, all night - considering she'd woken up in the late afternoon. Maybe tonight she could sleep like the dead, and wake up at a normal hour. Her sleep schedule had been out of whack for so long, it would definitely be some kind of miracle to sleep through the night and wake up in the morning like average people.

Once she made it to her neighborhood, she could have cried, she was so happy. When she was finally at her doorstep, she pulled out her key and struggled in the dark to slip it into the lock. If her hand wasn't occupied by the food box, she would have used the flashlight on her phone to see what she was doing. Her legs hurt too much to squat and put the box down again, like she'd done earlier. A growl of frustration was building in her throat, but fortunately, the key finally found purchase before she had to give up and put the box down, anyway. The lock turned and she opened the door, which creaked loudly. Weird. She could have sworn she'd left the light on in the living room when she went to the job interview. In fact, she knew  that she'd left it on, because she'd wanted to ward off any would-be intruders by making them think that she was still home. She felt for the light switch and the growl of frustration returned when her fingers felt it pointing up in the 'on'  position. No, no, no, no!!  She flipped it up and down a few times. Nothing. Her electricity had been shut off.

"Oh. My. GOD!!!" Dessa howled in anger.

She was exhausted from staying positive. This fucking sucks!!  She walked in and slammed the door shut behind her. She kicked off her shoes and sent one flying at the wall with a thump. She was aggravated, tired, sore, and fed up with everything. She couldn't microwave her food, so she took a few bites of the cold meat and potatoes as she sat on the couch in the dark. She sighed raggedly when she was full again without having put a dent in the meal. She placed it in the fridge and closed the door fast, to keep the cold air from escaping too much. It would do no good to have her only food spoil overnight. She stomped to her bedroom, peeled off her clothes and threw herself on the bed.

Then, she groaned when she realized that the alarm clock wouldn't go off tomorrow for her shift at work, and even though it was possible that she might wake up at a normal time and not need it, she couldn't risk it. She dragged herself out of bed, fished her phone out of her hoodie on the floor, and set an alarm on it. She had plenty of battery left, so it should be able to last until then if she didn't use it too much. Which meant no researching bicycles tonight, not that she had the energy to. She tossed it on her nightstand, laid back down, and jerked her blankets up to her chin with a huff. In minutes, she was out like a light that had been shut off by the electric provider.