"There'll be no rest
for the wicked
There's no song
for the choir..."
~ No Rest for the Wicked, Lykke Li

My grandmother use to tell me that we all have choices. And those choices we make reflect on our character, showing who we really are. She'd make me stand in front of the mirror every morning. "What kind of person are you?" she'd ask me, her hands on my shoulders. I'd stare at my reflection for the longest time, trying to figure that out.

Am I good? I had never intentionally hurt anyone, I rarely got in trouble.

Or was I a bad person for not doing enough? For not begging my mom to pull herself together? For not telling her that I loved her? For watching her destroy herself? For being silent?

Maybe I was selfish.

Maybe I'd always been selfish.

"How did Christopher die?" Nicolas asked, walking down the steps. I was laying down, but picked up my head to see his face appear. He held a half-empty bottle of water in his hand. He unscrewed the cap and took a sip, as if taunting me. "Hm?"

I tried to swallow, but my throat was as dry as the Sahara. I resorted to clearing my throat in an un-ladylike manner.

"I killed him."

That was my choice. 

"Yes, you said that before." He muttered, unimpressed with my response. "How?"

"I stabbed him." Over and over and over again...

"Cherry."

I turned my head only slightly, in acknowledgement. It was dark, but I could still make out some of his features. The moonlight outlined his hair. He stood over the bed, arms crossed over his chest.

"What the hell did you do?"

"It was an accident."

"Don't lie to me."

He pulled the chair to the bed, the legs loudly dragging against the tiled floor. Visiting hours were over, but he didn't seem concerned with being caught. Who did he pay off?

"I'm not lying."

"I'd have come sooner but I was busy," he said after a few moments of silence. "Accidental overdose, hm? Cocaine?"

I hesitate. "Oxy. Heroin."

Chris sighed and stood up. Disappointment. "How?"

"I just wanted to have a good time," I lied.

"You drive me crazy, Cherry." He shook his head and began pacing the floor. "I've done way too much for you. Too much for you to just throw it all away and die. You're getting clean. Understand me?"

"I—"

"You're getting clean, Cherry. No more drugs. That's it." He stopped and looked at me. "Tyler will stay with you from now on to make sure you don't do anything stupid."

"No more drugs," I repeat, because the idea of never doing drugs again...baffled me. It was the only way I got through sleeping with all those men... "You can't do that."

"I can. I will. I'll do whatever the fuck I need to do." He leaned down, his face hovering over mine. Eyes staring into mine. "I thought you could handle it. I gave it to you because I thought you could handle it."

"You gave it to me so I could fuck your friends and feel like I consented to it."

"I didn't think you'd abuse it. Two a day. I told you two-a-fucking day." He looked disgusted. "Oxy and heroin. You fucking idiot."

"You did this to me."

His hands curled into fists. "Don't fucking put this on me. You know everything comes with a price. In order to have it all, you must lose it all first. I didn't tell you to try to kill yourself. Fucking pathetic."

"I lost it all." I sat up, meeting his hard gaze with my own. "Here is where it got me. And I have nothing to fucking show for it."

"This conversation is finished. You're coming home tomorrow and I am cutting you off."

"Tomorrow?" My eyes widened. "N-no, I'm not supposed to be discharged yet."

If he was cutting me off, all I had were the pain meds the doctor gave me for tonight. 

"You're being discharged tomorrow." He starts walking to the door.  

"What did you do? Huh? Fuck!"  He pulled open the door, ignoring my shouts. "You son of a—"

It slammed shut behind him.

If Nicolas was surprised or even disgusted, he didn't show it. His face remained stoic as he walked over to me. He crouched down in front of me, his eyes carefully scanning my face. After a moment, he extends the bottle towards me. I practically snatch it, and guzzle down the water like it was the last thing I'd ever have. 

It might be.

When it was empty, I dropped the bottle and leaned back against the wall with a sigh. My eyes slid shut. 

"What do you want from me?"

"Tell me about the kind of men you've fucked." 

My eyes opened and I looked at him weirdly. "What?"

"Were they like my brother? Were they handsome? Did they have a lot of money?"

I dragged a tongue across my lips. Why was he asking me this? When I don't answer, his eyes narrow.

"Do you know of a Roman Petrov?"

"Who?"

Nicolas' eyes dropped to my lips. "You will do something for me."

"Just kill me already. You're going to anyway."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

I shook my head. i was sick of the games. 

"For someone who likes honesty, you're not very keen on practicing it yourself."

"You don't have to die, Neila." He shook his head and stood up. "Not yet, not anytime soon. You can be very useful to me alive."

I hated my survivalist instinct in that moment. "Useful how?"

"Roman Petrov is a problem I have. i will need help in...dealing with him."

"Dealing with him. What, like killing him? No, I can't...I can't do that."

"You've killed someone before, haven't you?"

"That's different. i don't even know the guy--"

"We're not there yet. I'm not yet interested in watching him die."

I shook my head in confusion. "Then what? You want his money?"

"I want...many things. Don't concern yourself with it yet."

"Am I sleeping with him for his money?"

"Let me make myself very clear," Nicolas spoke slowly as he advanced towards me. His eyes were hard now. Serious. "You are to not come across as a whore. He won't be seen with a whore."

I don't respond.

"Meet, seduce, sex. He is not paying you. You fuck him because you want to fuck him. You fuck him because if you don't, I will put a bullet between your pretty little eyes." He tucks my hair behind my ear and drags my head closer, lips brushing mine. "You fuck him because if you don't,  I'll allow every man working under me to fuck you until you're bleeding and half-fucking-dead."

"You had me at pretty little eyes," I drawl sarcastically.

He grips my jaw tightly, forcing my lips to pucker. "You talk entirely too much. Maybe my cock will shut you up, hm?"

Maybe I'll rip it off with my teeth if you try it.

"You are beautiful and I have no doubt you'll find your way into his bed." He used his thumb to trace my lips before pulling away. "The question is if you're good enough to keep him."

The more he spoke, the more confused I became. Meet him? Check. I can do that. Seduce him? Light work. Fuck him? I can do that too. And I can make it great. So great, he'll be hooked on my pussy like an addict to crack. But keep him? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

"I want him to want you. I want him to fall in love with you, Neila." His lips curl up into a menacing grin. There was no warmth, no kindness. No once of regret of sympathy for what he's asking me to do. He was serious. Whoever this Roman guy was, Nicolas didn't just want to hurt him. "And then I want you to help me rip him to shreds."

*****

Thrust.

"What do you want, Cherry?"

Thrust.

"Do you want to be important? Do you want to be loved?"

Thrust. Grunt.

"Do you want it all?"

Thrust. Thrust.

"I'll give you it all. I'll give you everything."

Thrust.

"But you have to do this for me, first.

You have to prove you're worth it.

You have to prove you're loyal."

Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.

"Come, baby."

Warmth. Pleasure.

"Come for me..."

Eyes roll back.

Be theirs...and the world shall be yours.

Seems I never could make the right choice.

That is the kind of person I am.