Viola Harris didn't know how long she cried.
It wasn't until the world outside her window became pitch-black that she got up, took a bath for an hour, got dressed, packed her things, and left.
She didn't take the check with her.
She wasn't for sale, and if she took the money, she would be no different from those women who sold their bodies.
Stepping out of the hotel, she stood on the street filled with neon lights, suddenly unsure of where to go.
Dazed, she took out her phone only to find it had powered off at some unspecified time.
She turned it on.
The screen had barely lit up when a call came in.
From Amelia Clarke.
Viola Harris's eyes flashed intensely for a moment before she pressed the answer button.
"Viola? Where are you? Where did you go last night? Are you okay?"
Amelia Clarke's voice carried an urgency laced with deep concern.
Viola Harris felt a twinge at the tip of her nose and tears fell once more as she sobbed back, "Amelia..."
