Chapter One – Tressa #2
I sit at the vanity and start working on my hair, pinning up the brown waves in a style that makes me look older and more sophisticated than my twenty years.
I dust blush across my cheeks to give my face color and make myself look fresh and healthy instead of exhausted and worn down.
When I’m finished, I stare at myself in the old, scratched mirror.
I look good, beautiful even, and I hate it with everything in me.
I hate that my looks became the thing that decided my fate, that this face and this body turned into the only currency I had left when everything else was taken from me.
I hate that men will pay to touch me and use me, and that I’ve learned to smile and pretend I enjoy it.
I grab my cloak from the hook by the door and wrap it around my shoulders.
The walk to the Velvet Angels takes half an hour through streets that are mostly empty at this hour.
I pass a few people here and there, other night workers and drunks stumbling home, but no one bothers me.
Everyone in this neighborhood knows what I am and what I do, and there’s no point in pretending otherwise.
The brothel is a flashy building painted in garish red, with golden trim that catches the lamplight. Lascivious music spills out into the street, and the sign above the door glows crimson against the darkness. I push the door open and step inside.
The air is thick with the competing smells of perfume, wine, and unwashed bodies.
Men sit at tables scattered throughout the main room, with barely clothed women perched on their laps.
Hands wander freely over exposed skin, while laughter rings out too loud and too forced.
The lights are low and warm, casting everything in a golden haze that’s meant to make the whole scene look romantic instead of desperate.
I scan the room until I spot Alana near the back, talking to a client but not yet committed to taking him upstairs.
She’s tall and pretty, with dark hair that falls in waves down her back, and when she catches my eye over the man’s shoulder, I motion toward one of the side rooms. She says something to the client, then makes her way over to me.
Alana closes the door behind us and reaches for my hands.
“Tressa.” Her eyes search my face. “What’s wrong? Are you working tonight?”
“No.” I squeeze her hands and try to find the right words. “I came to say goodbye.”
Her face goes pale, and her grip on my hands tightens.
“What do you mean, goodbye? What’s happened?”
“My father got himself into trouble. Serious trouble, this time. He owes two hundred gold to some very dangerous men, and they’ve given him one week to pay, or they’ll kill him. A few nights with clients won’t be anywhere near enough to cover that kind of debt.”
“Tressa, no. Don’t tell me you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking. There has to be another way.”
“Tomorrow morning, I’m going to the nearest bride market.
” I make myself say it out loud, make it real.
“I’ll put myself up for auction and sell myself to the highest bidder.
I’m young, and I’m pretty, and I know how to charm men and make them want me.
I should fetch a good price, enough to pay off what my father owes, and maybe even have some left over. ”
“You can’t do that.” Alana’s voice cracks. She looks like she wants to shake me. “Let me help you. I can take on more clients, we can figure something out together. You don’t have to sell yourself to some monster you’ve never met.”
“There’s no other way, and we both know it. Even if you and I worked every single night for the next week, it wouldn’t be enough. They’re going to kill him, Alana. I can’t let that happen, no matter what he’s done or how angry I am at him. I need you to do something for me instead.”
“What?” She’s still holding my hands tight enough that it almost hurts.
“Take care of him after I’m gone. Please. Make sure he doesn’t drink himself to death or get into more trouble. And I’ll send you money as soon as I have it, as much as I can, for you and your family.”
“Tressa, please don’t do this.” Her eyes are bright, but no tears fall. “There has to be another option.”
“There isn’t.”
I pull her into my arms and let myself cling to her.
She’s my best friend, the only person in this world who knows me and understands what I’ve been through.
After tomorrow, I might never see her again.
I might never get to talk to her, laugh with her, or share the weight of our survival together.
The thought makes my chest ache, but I still don’t let myself cry.
“I hate this,” Alana whispers against my shoulder.
“I know. But I have to go through with it. You know I have to.”
She holds me tighter and doesn’t argue anymore. I’ve made up my mind and nothing she says will change it. I close my eyes and breathe in the familiar scent of her perfume, trying to memorize this moment.
My heart is heavy with everything I’m about to lose. I hate that my life has come to this, that selling myself to a literal monster is the only option I have left.
But if I know anything about myself after all these years of surviving, it’s that I always do what I must. No matter how much it costs me.