The dark-haired girl answered.“For sale.”
My stomach turned over.I pressed my palm to the wall to steady myself.The concrete was cold and damp.
The girl rocking in the corner spoke without looking up.
“They sell you,” she revealed, “and then they take you back.”
Silence dropped hard.
I stared at her.“Take you back?”
The rocking slowed.She lifted her head just enough for me to see her eyes—they were too old for her face.“Like a dress.Like a return.”
My pulse hammered.“Why would someone return?—”
The dark-haired girl cut me off.“Because they can.”
She shifted on the mattress, wincing like her body was one giant bruise.“Because the men who buy you don’t want the inconvenience after.Or because you don’t do what they want fast enough.Or because you fight.Or because you’re sick.Or because their wife caught a whiff and now suddenly he’s a family man again.”
The blonde’s jaw tightened.“Or because they’re done.”
Done.
I dragged in a breath.It shook.“What happens when they’re… done?”
No one spoke for a second.
Then the blonde said, very quietly, “Depends.”
I didn’t like that answer.
I stepped closer, even though my body screamed at me not to.“Tell me.”
The blonde’s eyes flicked up.She studied me like she was deciding whether I could handle the truth.Then she sighed, slow and tired.
“Some girls get sold again.If there’s demand.”
The dark-haired girl gave a humorless laugh.“There’s always demand.”
The blonde kept going.“If you look okay.If you can still… pass.”
“Pass what?”My voice snapped.I didn’t mean it to, but the panic under my ribs had claws.
The dark-haired girl leaned forward.“Pass inspection.”
My skin crawled.“Inspection?”
She pointed to the corner, where a small metal cabinet sat against the wall.It looked innocent until I noticed the locks.
“Doc comes through.Not a real one.But he’s got gloves and a clipboard so they call it medical.They check for infections.They check for bruises that look too noticeable.They check…everything.”
The rocking girl whispered, “They weigh you.”
The blonde nodded.“They mark your file.”
My throat tightened.“File?”
The dark-haired girl’s gaze narrowed.“They’ve got your face, your height, your weight, your age if you’re lucky enough to have one they can prove.They list what you ‘are.’”