Let me get this coffee working through my system. I’m sure I want to hear what happened last night at some point, but not right now. Could I get a g...lass of ice water please?’ I got Amy the water and and some more tylenol, then went outside. It was another beautiful day. While I sat at the picnic table the girls from next door sat down and apologized. What they did was a lot of fun but wrong. I told them not to worry. This was like Vegas. What happened here stayed here. They said they wanted to. A client. Another legacy from Charlie. He had been my pimp, he’d blackmailed me into prostitution, then sold both me, and my young daughter to another pimp. Now we both worked as prostitutes, owned by others, our lives no longer our own. Owned. Owned to be sold at their whim to be fucked, and perhaps sold on, to yet another pimp.“Its alright love, you get back, I’ll be alright,” I said. She crept away, away to her bed, in which a stranger waited, waited for her to suck his cock, and to fuck him. It saddled her neck with a folded white collar and pinned auburn buttons down the sable column guarding her body. Given a headdress, one might have mistaken her for a nun.“It’s late Marcy” She said. The stack of letters in her hands was tied with a pale blue ribbon. The postman’s signature seal. “There’s nothing from your parents yet, and these letters will be here in the morning”The excitement drained from Marcella’s face. “Oh,” she pouted “I guess I’ll still take a look…” and twiddled her. . being was the best description I could come up with. Whatever it was, I couldn't bear to look at it long enough to even consider details.Before I could even really take it in, a voice spoke into the space. She wasn't speaking, but it was still somehow her voice, and yet ... not. It didn't even seem to be coming from her; rather it was just ... there."Christian Allen Wallace, what have you done?"Despite my confusion – and yes, I will admit, fear – I felt somehow compelled to answer."I don't....