My brother was going to get married and my family needed money to fund his wedding.
This was the first time, my mother "visited" me in the city. Unfortunately, I was no longer here.
"Didn't they say a prostitute makes a lot of money?" she murmured in disappointment. Then she lowered her head in dismay.
However, on the other side of the wall, the man's breathing grew heavier.
Hearing this, my curiosity intensified, so I floated to his room. I wanted to see his expression.
As soon as I went through the wall, I saw flies swarming around discarded instant noodle cups. I could also smell the reek of cigarettes in the air.
There was a small bed in the room and next to it, there was a photo frame of a little girl with pigtails in it.
Then I saw the man. On his thumb, the blood that stained it had turned dry and reddish brown. I reckoned the blood was mine.
Suddenly, the man dropped to his knees and sobbed. His mouth kept calling, "Amy, Amy …."
Suddenly, the police station was buzzing with activity and that was because of my mother
She was making a scene there. She demanded the police to give me the justice that I deserved and claimed I was a murder victim.
“Who would want to harm your daughter?” asked a bystander.
"I don't know." She sobbed. Her muddy tears flowed down her weathered face. I purposely floated and sat beside her because I wanted to know her real intention.
"Is Zara your daughter?" another bystander asked.
"Yes. She is my daughter," she wailed loudly but there were not any tears on her cheek.
I was amused to see her action.
The woman had kicked me out of the house when I was fifteen, then sent me off to Dobson.
“You’re grown up now. It's time for you to help the family,” my mother had said.
Many girls from my hometown left just like me. We rode the van into the city and would be gone for many decades.
When I left my hometown, the stars shone brightly on the night I left. I did not feel sad at all, only a sense of relief.
The van was filled with sounds of people's breathing. I knew it was summertime because the cicadas were chirping continuously.
"Zara," the leader pointed at me. "Wash your face."
Then he introduced me to a hairdresser and I worked there as an apprentice.
Everyone at Lake Street complimented my looks. The salon owner even took the initiative to shake my hand, although his grip was a little painful.