<span style="color: #FF80FF"> <span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;"><div style="text-align: center;">Lea Stevens</div></span></span> </span><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="postlink" href="http://i300.photobucket.com/albums/nn24/SociallyToxicBeauty/036e0d3a-b28c-47ec-b858-0eaea6c67e4d.jpg">[ img ]</a></div><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="color: #FF80FF"><div style="text-align: center;">"Jazz"</div></span></span></span><br/><br/>Lea looked at her hands, the cuts varying in depth and length. She knew that she probably shouldn't work as her feet would never be able to handle stilettos. She also knew her boss would never allow her on stage with her face looking as it did. She had makeup, so maybe that would help, but it would have to be heavy. For shoes she could wear some knee high, flat boots. If she put the right outfit together, she could just look as if it were a part of some grungy themed costume. She needed the money after all. Everything was broken and thrown out. No more dishes, her coffee pot was broken, everything needed to be replace.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF80FF">"I have to work..."</span>she finally answered. Besides that, there were some men who expected her to give them a bag a pills...but Carlos had thrown them out. She didn't know what they would do to her when they found out and her only hope was to make the money to pay them off. She hesitated in telling Carlos, worried about his reaction. She couldn't keep it to herself though.<span style="color: #FF80FF"> "You know the bag of pills you flushed...? That was a delivery worth a lot of money. I am going to either find replacement pills...which is unlikely. Or pay them back, which means I have to work...I don't have a choice..."</span>she explained with averted eyes. It was something she had been doing a while. Never had anything come up before to compromise it. How was Carlos to know, after all?