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She made her money on her back and that was just fine by her. She was tough and knew what it took to make a living in this world and no one was going to get in her way. That massive old Victorian was an

eyesore anyway. Who cared if one of the borders in this run-down craphole brought her Johns in to seal the deal. The red room was her room, and she could do was she pleased.

She didn't bother no one, and no one bothered her. Then she felt his fingers close around her throat.

They were thick and calloused and crushed her windpipe like a steel vice.

That's what you get when you sell yourself to the factory workers just outside the door.

She never knew when one would lose his mind and assault her before leaving her with no money

for her time. There was no telling what set this one off. Maybe she rushed

him or maybe he couldn't get it up and wanted to take it out on her. It didn't matter.

What mattered was the heaving of her chest as her body screamed for air.

She tried to take a breath, but no air would come.

She tried to cry out for help, but no sound escaped. She was together with a maniac

...