Compromises

The sound of the ticking clock made the hairs on her skin stand. She was suddenly afraid, a blindfold hindered her from seeing anything. 

She was bound on a metal chair and the silence of her surroundings wasn't helping her to feel at ease.

The woman didn't know where she was or what was happening. The last thing she could remember was the drink.

She was drinking a margarita at the bar and suddenly her vision turned dark.

Prim leaned forward. She had her legs crossed. Placing her right elbow on her thigh, she rested her chin and looked at Red, her nickname and not the real one, up close.

Red, because her hair was dyed red. It was perfect for her pale skin and slender body. One could say that Red is an envy for many.

And she is.

And she knows that.

She knows what she has and she's not ashamed to flaunt it. 

There was absolutely nothing wrong with that. But, the thing was, she used her beauty for something else.