Love Contract.

I tend to think that pain shapes us by fire. At least it is better to think that way than the opposite, that it destroys us little by little. I preferred to gather all the pieces of my heart and try to move on, even if pretending it didn't happen is a bad option, it is still na option.

" Get on with it, you bitch from hell! " I hear the call of a drunk at one of the bar tables.

Working in a bar, surrounded by rude, drunken men who are always trying to hold hands with the waitresses was not my childhood dream, of course. But life shows us that childhood dreams should remain in childhood. Living in Moscow has never been easy, but it tends to become even worse with time.

" I'm coming. " I warn him, walking towards him with the glasses of Russian beer on the tray. As I get closer, I avoid looking at any of the four men laughing and talking obscene things, just putting glass by glass in front of them and trying to think of something else. But when I am on the second glass, one of them touches my thigh underneath my uniform, making me shiver. The rough hand almost scratches my skin, and the nausea makes me need to take a deep breath. " Move away, please."

" Don't pretend you hate it, redhead. We know what promiscuous women like you like. " He keeps his hand on me, reaching up my uniform skirt.

As I have to hold the tray with one hand, I struggle to balance the two remaining glasses or the loss will come out of my paycheck and to top it off, no matter what they are doing, I would be the one to blame if I doused them with beer.

" I said, get your hand off me! " Before he can reach for what he wants, I grab his wrist with my trembling hand and leave the tray on the table. " Entertaining you is not my job.

Despite my phrase, they seem well entertained because they just laugh. I am a joke. At this moment I feel so small that I wish I were invisible, my whole body begins to tremble, my heart feels like there's a giant animal sitting on it so crushed, and tears gather in my eyes.

I feel like I am suffocating, needing to run far away for air. I put one hand on my chest, breathing so hard that my rib cage hurts as I practically run towards the exit.

" Allegra! "I hear the familiar voice of my boss, which only makes my desperation worse but there's not much I can do. " Where are you going?"

" I just need to breathe a little, please give me a few minutes. " I force the voice out, my chest hurts like I have a knife buried in it.

" You have na order, deliver it first and then take your minutes."

"But I... please, they'll just be..."

" That's na order, Allegra! " He affirms, stopping me from continuing to try to put the sentence together in my desperation.

Without being able to say anything else, using all the ways I can to breathe and walk at the same time, I go to the counter. There is na open bottle of cheap wine and a glass, which I pick up with trembling fingers and tears in my eyes.

"Is everything all right, Alle? " The night bartender worries, being the only one who really seems to notice. But he's still a man, and I don't trust anyone male other than my father.

"He will. " I lie, wiping away the tears that have escaped with one hand and continuing in search of air. "– Which table?

" The last one outside. " After his answer, I nod my thanks and head for the outside.

At least it is more ventilated here, away from the stares of the men who laugh at me as if I were a joke. We don't always have tables outside, but on weekends the bar is more crowded, so from the outside to the corridor we have tables, and the good thing is that the ones that are more outside tend to be the ones that don't like the crowds and tend to be more behaved.

" Your wine, sir. " I say politely, serving him.

He is an old man, alone, sitting at a table in a seedy bar at this hour, the poor man must have nothing to do. Sometimes it is good to think about the tragedy of others, not that I like to see others suffer, but it tends to comfort that it is not just your life that is in disarray.

"Thank you, young lady. " Thank you, looking too hard at my red face that I keep low as always. With my skin color it's easy to turn red, and with what happened inside and my tears I'm almost the color of my hair. My eyes are still moist too. " Hey, is everything okay?"

" Don't worry about me, thanks for your concern. " I force a smile and lift my torso, already walking away from him without waiting for na answer.

There is na alley next to the bar, right where the last table ends the long, dark, and usually empty corridor begins. But today, when I was trying to use it as a refuge for a few seconds where I could brood in peace and alone, it seems that someone arrived first.

" Who is there? " A deep voice that makes my legs tremble and my heart leap echoes through the room.

My eyes grow wide, it is like hearing a beast talking, or rather, roaring. Humanly, we involuntarily tend to watch what surrounds us especially if it offers danger, and I make that mistake.

I look down the hall, with the dim lighting allowing me to see two men holding another, who is wounded and no longer able to stand. The man who commands the other two comes walking toward me even though I can't see his face until I am very close, and my wobbly legs betray me and prevent me from running.

" I just wanted to be alone for a while, I didn't want to get in the way, I'm sorry. " I beg, like na abandoned puppy.

Before I can only see the silhouette, but when he comes walking and reveals himself, stepping out into the light, I can see the beast. The man seems to be both na angel and a demon, a deadly combination. His height manages to make my 1.70 look like nothing, his strong arms mark on a leather jacket, and his demonic eyes find me.

The man looks invincible, monstrously strong, and with a look that contains not a drop of humanity, but is absurdly handsome. His straight black hair matches the beard that shapes his mouth and tensed jaw. His tapered nose is raised and he looks at me as if he wants to kill me.

" Your busybody! " He violently grabs my arm, pulling me closer.

His hand hurts on my arm, his scent is of brutality and power, and yet I feel as if I know him from somewhere. But where could I know this man from? Not even from my nightmares.

" I didn't see anything, I swear! " I really couldn't see much, from a distance I only saw the silhouette of the goons who help him torture the poor man but nothing more than that. " Let me go.

" You will leave, to meet your creator. " The beast places a dagger in my neck.