Juri had nothing.

As a last desperate measure to make the money, she sold her car. She had only gotten a shit ten grand but it was enough. She also knew she should never have stayed at Is'haaq's place but she couldn't help it. She was so desperately hungry for proper food that she had to do it.

She had nicked a few packets of biscuits here and there and she had taken off with a box of tampons before her period made an appearance, but she couldn't steal everything. She was a thief, but she liked to think of herself as a decent one. She wondered if it made her a bit of a hooker though. She was essentially having sex for food- even if Is'haaq was ignorant to it all.

But it was almost over.

Uncle Paul would come, take his shit and fuck off.

And that would be it.

She could go back to her life the way it was before her bastard parents sold her out to him.

She looked back down at her phone, both agony and relief swimming around in her gut as she read his message.

I'll be there on Friday. Hope my money is there, girlie. Or not. I'd love some of that tight, little ass of yours.

She could go to Is'haaq again. She needed to go. She hadn't eaten in over two days and her shaky hands bore testimony to it. She left work as soon as her shift was over, tossing her gloves into the bin before she freshened up in the back room. Her fingers felt stiff from tying balloons and making them into flowers for almost five hours straight. She changed her work shoes for a pair of sneakers and zipped up her jacket over her backpack before she stepped out of the store... nicking another pair of gloves from the box. It wasn't much but at least it kept her hands warm.

She walked down the busy main road, taking the twists and turns past the large wholesale stores. It was late. It was past five already and the traffic was heavy beside her. The smell of fuel and smoke permeated her lungs as taxis and trucks raced past her. She could feel eyes on her ass that she ignored as she made her way closer and closer to the garage. It took her almost an hour to walk to his workplace, but it did her good. She loved the monotony of it all. She didn't really have to think to walk... she didn't have to think to hire an Uber either but was beside the point. She couldn't afford it.

His white box BMW came into her sight. His car was an old piece of shit, but he loved it. He wouldn't have bothered with detailing his windscreen if he hadn't, but she wasn't one to talk either. Her car was just as old as his was. She remembered his car though. He kissed her for the first time in that car. She remembered the way the gear shift dug into her leg as he pulled her closer to him and the way the steering wheel felt against her back as he hauled her into his lap so he could kiss her the way she deserved.

She shook her head, ridding herself of days long past. It made no sense to dwell on what else had happened. It wasn't as if it would have done her any good anyway. She huddled into herself as she leaned against the passenger door for him. The smell of her latex gloves troubled her nose and she could almost taste it as she brought her hands to her mouth, blowing warm air into her palms.

She really had reached an all-time low.

She was actually fucking someone for food.

What would her granny say if could see her now?

"Do you want a coffee?" She jumped as a cup popped up before her eyes, attached to a freckly hand and a familiar warmth.

"You're too sweet sometimes." Juri smiled, taking the cardboard cup from his hand.

"I think you mean most times." Is'haaq chucked her under her chin, kissing her forehead before her head dropped back. "So what were you thinking about so deeply that you didn't even see me?" he asked once they had settled in.

"Your piece of shit car."

"Careful, you're hurting her feelings."

She liked watching him drive. He did that thing where he used one hand to turn the wheel while the other rested on the gear shift... occasionally moving to tickle her thighs or rub her knee. "Sorry." Juri turned to him, enjoying the way the Autumn sun set upon him.

"And what was it about my piece of shit car that had you so enraptured?"

She hesitated. Telling him would bring up too many awkward feelings that neither needed to feel just yet. "Remember back home, there was that hill by the butcher."

"Ya..." a smile found its way onto his face at the mention of home.

"And whenever Yahya and I were with you, you would race down so fast I used to fall off the seat."

Is'haaq chuckled, remembering the many, many times he had done that. It was almost always done on purpose. Her top would always lift up whenever she fell, and he was a disgusting teen back then so it made sense to him. "Ya, I remember."

"So..." she took a sip of her coffee, ignoring the blush to her cheeks, "I used to kinda... coax my top into riding up so I could give you a nice view." She admitted.

"You little piece of shit!" Is'haaq burst out laughing. Only his Juri would do such a thing.

***

Is'haaq watched her as she bent down in front of his fridge. She looked unhealthy.

Really, really unhealthy.

Her cheeks had sunken in and her body had changed. He hadn't felt the softness he used to feel when he would hold her. Now he felt her bones and her skin felt dry and scratchy against him. She wouldn't even let him switch on the light anymore.

"Are these left-overs?" she asked, lifting up two little glass dishes.

"Yup."

"Can I have it?"

"Sure."

They weren't really left-overs. He had cooked it specially for her. He had only put the good stuff in there... stuff that would make her feel fuller for longer, but he wouldn't dare tell her that. She'd probably squeeze his balls off and eat it in front of him.

"Do you like oats?"

"I guess..." Juri replied, digging through his draw for a fork.

"Woolworths had a two for one special and I don't know what to do with the other box. Do you want it?"

"Woolworths?" she eyed him critically. "When? I didn't see that in their paper."

"A few days ago..." he shrugged it off.

She eyed him still, watching for any change in his face before she turned back around again. "If you're sure you don't want it then... fine. I don't mind."

The tightness in her voice was a dead giveaway. She wanted to cry but she wouldn't let him see it.

"I want tea. Do you want some?"

She nodded, eating at the counter with her back to him. 

He put the kettle on to boil, working around her in silence.

***

She was eating her oats without chewing it. It tasted awful really. She didn't bother buying any milk or sugar... she would need the rest of that money to see her through till her next pay day and she was stretching for as long as possible.

She had eaten so much of it that she started to have a much healthier digestive system over the last two days. But she would get through it.

Uncle Paul would come.

Then she could worry about food. And whatever else.

She didn't want to spend anything because she didn't trust him. He would never have asked for just five grand. She knew it was a trick so she had to be prepared.

And after it was all over, she could make do with the left over.

Her body was shaking-little nerves so frazzled by his coming arrival that she couldn't even sit. She walked around, munching to keep her stomach from growling in front of him. She didn't want him to know what was happening to her.

She gasped as the bell rang.

He was there.

She was still eating. She gulped down the rest of it all, rinsing her bowl and her mouth in the kitchen sink. Her knees were knocking against each other and her chest ached knowing he was right there.

She was so fucking terrified of the man.

She forced herself to breathe as she touched the doorknob, closing her eyes as she turned it.

"Hi Girlie."

"Hi Uncle Paul."

He was dressed just as sharply as he always was, and he smelled as good as he always did but she still felt like retching at the stench.

"Are you okay?'

"Yes, Uncle Paul."

He looked around her flat, his eyebrow lifting at the bare minimum inside it. "Not much for decorating, are you?"

"No."

"Hmm..." he sat on the only chair in her kitchen, crossing his hands behind his head. "So, I assume you have my money."

"Yes, Uncle Paul." She walked as calmly as she could towards her bedroom, praying he didn't follow her in. She had only taken out five thousand from beneath her mattress before she walked back to him.

"And how much is that?"

"Five thousand." She handed it to him.

"Only?"

Fuck.

"That's what you told me."

"Ah... well you didn't take in the interest rate now did you." He flipped through the money, licking his fingertips when he got stuck.

"Interest rate?"

"Of course, baby. I'm a businessman after all. Interest is a part of the game."

"So, what are you looking at?"

"Three hundred percent compound." He did a quick calculation in his head. "Plus... shall we call it extra charges. Travelling, petrol, keeping your fucking dumb cunt parents fed..."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Her stomach cramped in stress and sweat dripped down her neck.

"You're looking at about twenty five or so..." He stretched back as far as he could go, tracing the patterns on the ceiling.

"By when?"

"Well for all the inconvenience... I'd say in three days time."

She wanted to cry.

Fuck.

She would never make the money.

"Three days?" her voice shook. She hated that her voice shook.

"There's a few other options though." he stood up, pushing the chair back into place.

"What are they?" Juri moved back with every step he took.

He stalked her, smiling as she walked back into the wall. "Option one. You give me one hour and I have a few friends pay to come over and visit you."

She was so scared she couldn't help the warm drizzle that ran down her tights.

"Option two. You give me a whole 12 hours. 6 to 6. That's just for me to fuck you in whichever way I want to." He looked down at the darkened streak along the inseam of her tights. "Just me though. No one else. But a full twelve hours."

He reached forward, pecking her dry lips.

"And option three. Pay me and I'm gone." He kissed her once more, biting her lip till she bled. "Here's my number. I want an answer in an hour." He slipped a piece of paper in her hands before he backed off.

She sat down, barely caring about the wet patch on the floor or how putrid she felt. She would never make the money.

She would never, ever make the money.

And she had no one to bail her out this time.

She took out her phone and typed through blurred vision.

Option two.

Good girl. And you remember that I'm a cop, don't you? Don't bother ratting me out.