The last thing I remember, the only thing I remember about my life was her.

She was dancing around a pole on a small platform in the middle of the room. I was in a sort of uniform/costume similar to hers, pouring drinks for the men that watched her sway on those rediculously high platforms she wore. White men. White all over and cold when their fingers brushed mine as I passed them their shots. They were too drunk now, their faces becoming hungrier as she flung her bronzed body around the pole, the rabbit ears to her costume making her look like the prey she would become. One of the cold ones had walked casually, calmly away from the main group and up to the light switch on the opposite side of the room. Fear crept up the back of my neck. I knew we shouldn't have taken this job. I had told her.

As everything went dark I screamed her name into the blackness.

That's when my death began.