"Can you get me one basket of fried chicken?" asked the customer.

"Sure, what else I can get you? "She inquired; her pen poised.

"Can I get another basket of fries?" asked the middle-aged man, looking at his daughter, who appeared to be engrossed in his phone.

"Sure, just wait for 15 minutes. I'll get those right away," she said, reaching quickly for their menus.

She spun around and headed for the kitchen, where she placed their order on the steel bench. "Order for table eight," she said to the cook, smiling.

He returned her smile and handed her a plate. "Sixth table," he said.

She smiled politely and quickly returned to the dining area, where she placed the plate in front of the woman who had requested it. "Uhm, excuse me," the woman said as she turned to walk away.

"Yes?" she asked as she turned to face her.

"This filet mignon isn't medium rare," she observed as she gazed at the perfect medium-rare steak.

"Sure, it is, ma'am," she replied, a little perplexed.

"And this spinach is a saggy mess, I want a redo," she said loudly, drawing the attention of other customers.

"Of course, ma'am," she said, sighing as she took the plate again.

The customer is almost always correct. "Oh, hell no!" exclaimed a voice from behind her.

When she turned about, she saw her manager approaching her, shoving her notebook into her pocket. "Ma'am, we're full tonight, we don't have time to prepare the salad look beautiful for you, it's a dish... goes in one finish and brings out the other," she said quickly.

She widened her eyes and looked at the woman who appeared to be about to make an argument. "And before you can go calling for the manager, I am the manager, and if you do not like what is served during rush hour, I highly recommend you cook at home," their manager said, trying to cross her arms.

The woman laughed. "Ohm, really?? There are so many nicer restaurants in this village!" remarked the woman.

The manager then cocked her brow. "That's it, goodbye and enjoy your night," she said as the woman stood up.

She gathered her belongings and stalked away with a puff. "Listen, honey, I know you are all about being excellent in everything you do, but there is something you just got to tell people to go away," Ana said, their manager, giving Angel a serious look.

Angel finally sighed. "It is only your fourth week, you will get used to these," she said as she walked away, patting her shoulder.

She returned to the kitchen, holding the tray. "Please scrap this," she said. The cook removed her plate before handing her another.

"This is for table number eight," he said.

She thanked him and quickly handed over the food. The rest of the night went off without a hitch, with no one else complaining about their orders. When the night came to an end and the cook turned off the cooker, she turned to Ana. "You did well tonight, kid," she said, smiling.

"Thank you," Angel said.

"Here are your tip and check," she said as she extended her hand.

Angel quickly took them and placed them in her purse. "Thank you again, I will see you tomorrow for the dinner shift," she said to the cook, waving.

He returned her wave, and she proceeded to the front doors. As she walked to her car, her wedges made a loud noise against the gravel.

Her head was buried in her bag as she searched for her keys. The cook and Ana laughed as they walked to their car and drove away.

~

The night had been eerie for her, and she was exhausted. She then unlocked her car and walked towards it when her arm was grabbed. A hand clamped over her mouth as the dark figure smacked her against her car door, letting out an ear-piercing scream. "Silence, b*tch!" yelled the male voice.

He shrieked before snagging her hair and tugging it in his grasp after she kicked her knee up, kneeing him in the balls. "You will pay for it, you little b*tch!" groaned the man.

"No, please!" she pleaded, tears welling up with each excruciating hair tug.

"Please take everything! Just don't hurt me!" she yelled, shoving her bag at him.

The man laughed. "You think I need money? Oh no, I'm here for you, sweet thing!" the man said as his nose brushed against her neck causing her to tremble with fear.

She screamed once more. "Please don't do this," she begs as the man releases her hair and places a sheer weight on her throat. "I said quiet!" he exclaimed angrily.

Angel tried to flee, but he held her tightly. "Stop!" she yelled repeatedly.

"Please stop!" she yelled, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Please can someone save me from this jerk!" She begged to her mind.

"Oh my god, this was it. I was going to lose my grace to this dirty disgusting man. Is he going to defile me?" she thought to herself as she heard his zipper come down and a new wave of struggle began. "Stupid whore, stop screaming," the man cursed as she tried to scream again, but the heat was cut off.

"If I were you, I would stop touching her," a dark voice said abruptly.

Her eyes widened as the man spun around and let her go. She collapsed to the ground and huddled, half under her car.

After that, she heard a click and saw the man pull out a silver knife. "For f*cking sh*t! Leave us alone!" The scumbag spat.

"I'm warning you. Step away from that lady," said the voice again.

The man spun around. "Where are you, fight me you asshole! Show yourself, coward!!" spitted the man once more.

Angel shivered. "I said, leave her alone. Don't try my patient asshole," the deeper and laced voice said authoritatively.

She heard a shift in the gravel and looked up to see a shadowy figure appear in front of the man with the knife. She couldn't see his face because it was obscured by shadows.

"You have come to the wrong woman, you f*cking asshole," said the stranger as the man who had been harassing Angel hissed.

The enigmatic stranger's black-gloved hand snuggled into a fist. "I apologize for not being afraid of your clunky knife," the unshaded man said.

Her harasser charged forward, and she averted her gaze to avoid seeing the silver knife bulging from the man who had saved her. Instead, she heard a gurgle and opened her eyes to see the mystery man clutching her harasser's neck.

As her harasser shrieked, something glimmered, and before she could blink and process it, the man scampered forward and buried his head in the crook of the other man's neck.

Her eyes widened, and she scrambled from beneath her car, yanking the car door open. As she started her car, the shadowy figure who had saved her tossed the other man aside.

She stepped out of the parking lot towards her, her headlights sweeping across his body and only revealing his mouth. Blood stained his chin, but she didn't have time to react as she sped away, pressing down on the accelerator.

"What the f*ck just happened? Is he a monster?!?" she wondered aloud.

"You can run from me for now, Sanya, but I will make sure to mark you as soon as possible," the man said as he watched the car drive away.