Having a choice is not always a good thing. Take me for example. I had two choices. The first was to keep my pride and continue struggling physically, emotionally, and financially. The second was to swallow my pride and do what needed to be done in order to get through life. Door number two is how I came to be here, kneeling on the floor patiently waiting on one of my owners to arrive. Yes, I said owners. I made the choice to sell my virginity on an auction block in order to pay for my mother’s hospital bills and rent, which was already past due. It was not something that I ever thought I’d do, but when I heard bits and pieces of a customer’s conversation with their friend while I was at work and then they gave me their business card, the wheels in my head started to turn. I was supposed to keep my virginity safe for someone special, but after all the years that I waited, I decided to kill two birds with one stone. Not only would I come out of this an actual woman, but I

Working on my last house for the day, it’s the most nerve-wracking one. A married couple with three kids under the age of nine, and the wife has OCD. I know, why would anyone with OCD hire someone else to clean their house? I’ve already caught her recleaning a few areas that I’ve cleaned, but I’ve been working for them for the past two years, so I guess I’m still doing a decent job. The Morrison’s are good people, though, and they have always been really nice to me. Sometimes they ask me to babysit for them, but I always have to pass, because I don’t trust myself around little kids. I used to babysit all the time when I was in high school, but the way my attitude has changed over the years, I don’t want to take it out on any child. I like kids, although I doubt I will ever have any of my own. There’s no way I in hell I would want to bring an innocent child into this fucked up world. When I’m done with the Morrison house, I say my goodbyes, and then head to the bus stop. I

After the morning I had, keeping my mind off the disturbing images that are now permanently in my head, is actually not so hard while working the diner. The lunch hour rush was a doozie and now we are heading into the dinner rush. My co-workers got a good laugh at my disastrous morning, and every so often they break out to the Girl on Fire chorus. Why I thought it was a clever idea to tell Patrick and Patty about it is beyond me. I definitely won’t be making that mistake when Bobby comes on shift. “Table nine’s order is up!” Patrick yells from behind the counter. That’s me. I grab a tray and load the four plates on top of it. When I get to the table, I carefully unload the tray. I almost wear the last plate of mac and cheese when the toddler tries standing up on the bench and hits the tray. Luckily, I have been waitressing for years and can handle an out-of-control tray. It doesn’t make me any less annoyed, though. I just put on a smile, and say, “It’s okay, kids will be ki

Back in my apartment, I let myself drop to the couch face first, “Ouch!” I fumble under my hip and produce my phone. I just lay here in the silent space listening to the traffic outside. A clock is ticking somewhere, not in my apartment, but in a neighbor’s. That is how thin these walls are. There is a cat fight going on somewhere down the street, and a baby crying somewhere. “I hear you, kiddo. I feel the same way.” I realize that I am still holding the card in my hand, so I turn it over and examine it. It is matte black, but the name Scarlett is written in the middle of the card with a phone number below, all in a glossy blood red color. It is sexy in kind of a dark way. I remember the woman telling me that if I ever needed extra cash that I should contact her. I debate on whether or not I should call the number. What if she’s a loan shark? I can’t afford to pay any kind of money back. I can’t do anything illegal either, like sell drugs or be a mule. I shiver at the latt

Patrick opened the diner back up on Tuesday since both he and Patty were over the sickness. Beth is still under the weather, but because the diner was closed for so long, both Patty and I agreed to work double shifts to help make up the time that we both lost. Things were starting to go back to normal, almost. I still need to find a third job with decent pay. I’m tired of depending on tips. I really wished the auction house were a real auction house and not just a glorified brothel. I’m not judging anyone by any means, I was just really counting on the extra money that Scarlett had mentioned. When I check my phone on my break, there are multiple text messages from Frank, begging me to come back to the bar, and one new voicemail from a number that I do not recognize. I tap in my four-digit code and listen. I recognize Dr. Hildreth’s voice. Rolling my eyes, I am about to delete the message thinking he was going to try convincing me to let mom go, but I am wrong. He wants me t