Alleviate

3| três

There were around 2,000 women who worked around this area, providing cheap thrills to a primarily straight, working-class male clientele. Some girls worked part-time, holding down day jobs as maids and cashiers; others worked around the clock. However, there were quite of a few girls in our brothel, out of which most of them had stayed mentally unbroken. Some of the older girls had their own apartments and a life outside prostitution. They would go home early in the morning only to return again, whilst the rest of the younger ones such as me and Anika, relied on Delilah.

I have often watched many of the girls turn to the comfort of drugs, whether it be selling drugs, or drug abuse. It seemed to have recreated their world of misery into something progressively better. These were the girls who were forced into this business, or were in sexual trafficking at a young age, some even younger than me.

It was as if I woke up everyday thinking about the lives of other people in Vila Mimosa. But for some, Vila Mimosa was a place of relative freedom that offered the chance to earn quick money, however foreign the concept appeared to be.

After hearing Delilah's voice, Anika and I started to walk towards the door. Just a minute later, I could feel a dull ache building up inside my body. Anika seemed as downtrodden as me, but in a better physical state.

"Camilla, you are limping. Are you fine?"

"Yes, just tired," I answered, as we made our way down the corridor.

I heard the loud, unmistakable voice of Delilah asking, "how was the night, girls?"

There were multiple mutters that answered her, which I couldn't quite catch. Just as the corridor ended, leading us into the main room, Delilah laid her eyes on me. "Camilla, you need to pay up for that old hag of yours."

Some of the girls snickered.

Delilah liked to refer to my mother with that term. I couldn't say anything back, nor could I even bother to act annoyed. She would find humor in using insulting terms to refer people with, and I noticed that her reference to my mother was no different. The money that Ambros had given to me was tightly clutched in my hand. I was in desperate need of it and as all the girls stared at me, waiting for me to give the money to Delilah, but I wanted to be selfish and run away.

"Come on," Delilah taunted, her light brown eyes looking at the money in my hand. She could smell money just by its presence and she knew I had been generously tipped. Her hand was stretched out to me, her long finger nails with red paint standing out compared to the broken ones of her employees.

"Now."

"Camilla, just give it to her," Anika whispered, as she was the one who stood closest to me.

Maybe this was the result of poverty-stricken people: their minds working illogically and their actions dictated by selfishness and stupidity.

Ignorance.

Delilah got up, and I took a few paces behind, gently hitting the wall. Generally by now I would have obediently given her the money and gone in search for some loose change in the areas where I saved my keep. But today, I was blinded and upset. This earning had cost me more than any night had and I had just earned it a few hours ago to have lost it again.

Delilah walked up to me and yelled, "you little disobedient whore!"

I only remember a shot of pain on the right side of my face, and her sharp nails trying to loosen my clutch on the money. Delilah was a strong woman, and just as I was about to give her the money, she used her leg to make me fall by yanking my ankle with her foot. I think I blacked out after hitting the floor.