Chapter 1

She didn't know nor did she remember how long it had been but she was sure it had been a long time. A long time since she had been dying, every day and every night. Now it was like a normal to her, different men coming and using her as a toy to quench their sexual desires.

Every night her uncle would introduce her to a new customer and she would just sigh, waiting for this pain to end. Just like right now, the man who was thrusting inside her wildly was a new customer who came for her today.

She didn't know when her life would take a turn? when her life would get better? She didn't know even she would be able to make out of this hell hole.

She didn't know anything.

Would someone ever marry her and take her out of this brothel?

Marriage? Really? And me?

She scoffed at her thoughts, who would like to marry a used girl, who would want to marry a prostitute?

Was she really this unworthy that no one would want to marry her?

She couldn't understand the standard of society.

One virginal wall is supposed to decide everything? Everything of a girl's life? About her character? No matter how much her pure is her soul?

If you're not a virgin without marriage, does it mean you don't deserve to be honored?

You deserve no respect?

She always thought that why people neglect every other attribute when it comes to girl making the standard only the beauty and virginity.

Every day a part of her soul would die. She was dying slowly. She never wished for this life, she never wanted it.

She never wanted to be a prostitute.

People would more often call her a prostitute than her name. It was breaking her heart day by day.

She could just wish her fate was in her hand. But it was not.

All the things happened which she never wanted to happen.

The night shift at last ended and the man got off of her after quenching all his desires on her.

"You're a good slut," he said as if complimenting and wore his clothes leaving the room. While she just laid on the bed, her eyes which were emotionless kept on staring at the ceiling.

Her body wasn't in pain, it had got used to it.

The pain was the emotional pain. The pain which no can see and feel but she and her dear mother, Dilshad.

As it is said, trust the one who can feel the pain behind your happiness. She always put up a pretense of being happy and content infront of her mother but her mother would always know it.

She was living happily in her beautiful country, Iran until one day her father, Aahil became a drug addict and started gambling. Soon, he ran short of money and sold his daughter to his brother, Sufyan. Roshanay's mother, Dilshad insisted him not to do this but he didn't pay a heed. After some days Aahil died and Roshanay was forced to go with her uncle and she took her mother along with her too. Her uncle lived in Pakistan, KPK so they both have to leave their country.

Her uncle, Sufyan was a vile man who had a kotha in which he had employed women as prostitutes and he made Roshanay one too. Roshanay resisted him but she needed money and a shelter on her head, on the top of that her uncle blackmailed her so she had to agree. She had nowhere to go.

She had lost the track of time since she had been living in this haveli and forced into prostitution.

But whoever came for her took a part of her soul with him.

On cue the door knocked and her trance broke. She hurriedly wore her clothes and opened the door to find Yasir their.

Yasir was the nicest person in the brothel and a very dear friend of her. He was a kind of receptionist who had the details of all the customers and which prostitute did they choose to spend night with.

"Yes?" she asked politely.

"Mr. Sufyan is calling you" he replied, his eyes shining with sympathy for the poor girl.

"Okay," she smiled, trying to depict that she is not bothered about anything. She's content.

On reaching her uncle's room, she knocked before entering and saw her aunt sitting beside him.

Her aunt, Humdah was a wicked lady just like her husband. They both suited each other.

There was no day when she would not listen to the snarky remarks of her aunt mocking her and her mother on misery, comparing Roshanay with her daughters and reminding her that she's just a prostitute.

"You called me?" she asked.

"Yes, Roshanay" her uncle, Sufyan said, "its your pay time, you've been a very good-" before he could complete his sentence, Hamdah cut in.

"Slut," she said with a smirk only to mock her.

"Yes a very good slut, so as a bonus I decided to give you a bonus of five thousand rupees," he said to which she gave no response and he forwarded the bundle of note to her.

She moved towards him and as she was about to take the money, Hamdah suddenly took the bundle from his hand and threw it on the floor.

"That's how we pay the whores, you can take it from the floor," she spated and they both gave a mockery laugh.

She took in a deep breath.

Patience

She told herself and bent down to pick the bundle while the couple laughed at her. They were jealous of her, there jealousy was the reason behind their action.

Because she was beautiful and there daughter couldn't match her beauty, they were nowhere near her.

Her eyes were hazel with a slender button up nose and lips which were pinker than Azaleas. Her skin was porcelain and one would always want to run a finger on her silky skin just to feel its soft texture. Her hair were thick and black which reached her waist. She had the curves by which anyone could be easily attracted.

In all ways she was epitome of beauty.

She regained her posture on taking the bundle from floor and took out ten thousand rupees from the bundle, forwarding it to her uncle.

"I thank you for your well wishes but I don't need any bonus and you can take extra five thousand rupees too for showing this generosity to me," she told, her tone had a steely edge, "and you people are no human. You'll rot in hell my dear uncle and aunt and I would be laughing at you the same way. Even if I'm a prostitute, a whore or a slut I still deserve respect" she told them sweetly and turned around to leave, placing the ten thousand on the nearby table.

"And don't think you're doing a favor by giving this money to me, doesn't matter how but I earned this money," she told and left the room.

"Do you look at this Sufyan? Do you even look at this?! How this whore is mocking at us?" Hamdah said to her husband whose chest was heaving with anger.

"This bitch would pay for it," he gritted, a determination shining in his eyes to make her pay which got Hamdah smirk immediately.

As Roshanay got out of the room, she collided with the girl she despised to the core, Sufyan's and Hundah's only daughter, Hafsa. Whom they have treated like a princess and who was the most arrogant and toxic person in the kotha.

Hafsa on seeing the money in Roshanay's hand gave her a taunting smile.

"Seems like you got paid today for being fucked," she ridiculed.

"Get out of my way, hafsa. I'm in no mood to debate," she said trying to step to right and move past her but she again stepped infront her.

"Oh really? Now the one who is feeding on our pieces would talk back to us,"

Roshanay sighed and glanced towards her.

"Yes really," she stated in a matter of fact tone and moved past her when she again stopped her.

"You're a bitch! A slut! And you'll always be that!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with joy.

Roshanay didn't reply her, just gazed at her with unreadable expression.

"What cat got your tongue?" She said again, trying to elicit the reaction out of her.

"Actually yes, cat has my tongue," she answered her bitterly. "Now get out of my way," she said and left.

Roshanay reached her room and found her mother sleeping. It was 10 p.m and it was her sleeping time.

"My beautiful mother," she placed a kiss on her forehead before placing the money in one of the drawer and got to the washroom, taking a shower.

Then she did her ablution and sat on the prayer mat to cry out her heart infront of her Lord. She trusted Him, she knew He was the best of planners. She knew one day she will see a bright sunny day, these rainy days would go soon. She had the belief.

After her prayer, she got up and turned around to found her mother awake. She had woken up by her soft cries.

"Chirah giraya mi kuni, Nur?" she questioned. Though they had been living in Pakistan since a long time but she always talked with her mother in her native lagnuage.

(Why were you crying, Nur?)

Nur

It was her name which only the people special to her knew. She had only allow a certain people to call her with this name. Nur.

Nur

Roshanay

They both meant light.

Nur was under Roshanay. Nur had hidden herself, her past self, that jolly self behind Roshanay.

She wasn't Nur anymore. She was Roshanay. Roshanay who was a prostitute.

But the remnants of her cheerful nature were brought up whenever her mother called, Nur.

"Heech cheezi, madar. O chira girya kunam? Mi dani kah man qawi hastam. Dukhtare qawi tawh" She replied with a smile.

(Nothing mother, And why would I cry? You know I'm strong. Your strong daughter)

"Tu madar man hasti ya man madar tw hastam?" her mother asked making her laugh

(You're my mother or I'm your mother?)

"Giriya na kun dukhtare zibaye mun," she said with a sad voice and tapped the place next to her, "inja khwaab," her voice laced with motherly love.

(Don't cry my beautiful daughter, sleep here with me today)

She moved towards her mother with a smile. The bed was only for a single person, she had her makeshift bed on the floor but her mother really wanted her to sleep beside her on the bed today.

Dilshad's gut feeling was telling her something bad is about to occur as if she's spending her last moments with her daughter. Her heart was really restless.

Tonight the mother and daughter slept together, there arms wounded around each other.

Little did they know, it would be the last night they would be spending together.

.........

The next day, in the evening, like every other evening she was getting ready for her new customer. Today the make up artist was being extremely vigilant.

"You've to look perfect, Roshanay," he said while applying the eye liner to her, "the customer is very important. He somehow knows Moosa so you've to please him so he could be our regular customer. Your uncle has asked me to tell you this. And on top of that, he had personally asked for you." he kept on talking while getting her ready for the night.

Moosa

She had heard this name quite often. He was some famous business men and a partner to the world famous company, Syed enterprises and it was a privilege for those who knew him. What he had collected from media about him was that he was a very sincere and devoted man, having a number of NGO's under his control. From time to time, he gave funds to different orphanages and school. He was one of the most influential personalities of the country.

'What a nice man is he and here my uncle does not have an ounce of humanity' she thought.

Apart from that, one thing she noticed about him, he was really handsome. His face was so attractive and beautiful just like her Hayder was.

A number of girl died to marry him. Only a single glance by him would make them head over heels. There only wish to somehow be able to marry him.

All of this information, she got from a video on youtube.

Marriage.

'Can he marry you, Roshanay?' A sudden thought hit her.

She always wanted to marry. Getting married was her wish so she could be free of this life because his uncle, who was absolutely a cunning man, had made this rule that marriage could be the only way to set a prostitute free from this brothel. All the girls have to follow it as he cunningly made them sign a contract. He knew it well, that no man would ever want a prostiute as his wife that was why he made this rule so all of them could be in his captivity for forever.

And here she just planned her's and Moosa's wedding in a millisecond in her brain. She just scoffed at her thoughts. It was impossible for a man like him to even look at a prostitute like her.

She was not even close to his standard.

Rather, her heart was still in the captivity of Hayder.

Hayder, her love. Her only love.

"Are you even listening to me Roshanay? He is a very important client. He could help your uncle to get a chance to work with, Moosa. So be at your best," the make up artist said again.

She could just sigh with frustration and sadness, she wanted the night to pass quickly.

As a reply to him, she just nodded.

After all it was her work to please others.

She wished she had the power to go against her uncle but she couldn't. She still remembered his threat which had her mind boggled, how could he be so cruel.

'If you didn't agree to my demands and didn't become a prostitute, I'll make my men fuck your mother and then viral the video. Now it's in your hands, either you prefer your dignity over your mother's or your mother's dignity to yours.'

Her uncle was a strong and well connected man, apart from this brothel, he had a business to show the world his source of income is from a business not from some brothel. Though, most of the money he made was from the kotha.

Infront of the world, he was a very pious man who apparently was providing shelter to his dead brother's wife and daughter but only she knew his real face.

She was followed by one of the girls to a room where she were to wait for her customer as he didn't arrive yet. She sat on the sofa waiting for him, like every other night, her heart again was beating incessantly. She closed her eyes when those green eyes lingered infront her and she suddenly opened her eyes again.

How could she forget those eyes?

There was no chance.

She had became used to, to all this. Different men coming and quenching their desires on her body and tonight someone asked for her specially, means his uncle would be heavily paid. She looked at the sky through the window, her eyes glimmered with unseen tears. Each day a part of her soul was dying.

When would this misery end?

This profession, made her feel like, she has no self respect. She drinked in all the curses and names given to her gracefully. She wanted to reach a status where all those people who call her slut daily just to mock her would experience the same thing as she was going through. Her hands were tied, she knew. But she also knew, circumstances don't remain same. They change. She had her firm belief in Allah. The Almighty.

Time pass, but still the man didn't show up and she was feeling tired so much that her eyes began to grow weary and before she knew, her eyes closed and she slept on the couch.

When her eyes opened, she found Yasir, standing there, saying something worriedly to her but she could just decipher one sentence that made her sit up and put her mind on alert.

"Run from the back door!"