Lory stroked Alice’s hair, but her heart raced.

This was a scene. She dared a glance over her shoulder. People were watching. Did any of them know her? Eyes met her, and a chill ran down her spine: was that one of her johns, or just someone who looked like it?

But the man wrinkled his nose and walked on. Lory buried her face in Alice’s hair, trying to fight the contagious tears.

“But it’s better,” Lory insisted, voice too desperate to be convincing. “It’s better, right? The water won’t take you. Some nasty man won’t-” murder her and leave her body out to find after she sells herself to to him “-… won’t holler at you in the streets. Right?”