Ms. Jackson

Millie

   Our story begins with a breathtakingly beautiful Victorian woman by the name of Mildred Jackson, the youngest daughter of a poor, unsuccessful merchant. She was the youngest of four daughters. They all had been married off except for two, Mildred and her oldest sister Anne.
    It was a cool autumn morning in their old home in uptown London. Mildred lay asleep in her straw mattress bed with a thin, wool blanket over her. She was nudged awake by Anne who said to her in her usual playful manner, "Millie! Oh Millie! You alive in there?" Millie swatted her hand away and sat up slowly, the sun's rays came streaming through the window, making her wavy, brown hair gleam and shine in its light. She looked at Anne and smiled, "No sister, I am only a groaning spirit in this, our decrepit old house."  The women laughed at this before Anne pulled herself together to say, "Father is waiting to speak to us."
         The two sisters then walked into their run down kitchen and sat at their old, creaky, beat up table. Their father, Arnold Jackson, a widower and since hardened and made cold, had black hair now streaked with gray, and his green eyes, which were once filled with light and laughter, now were glassy and empty.  He turned to his daughters and spoke in his usual icy tone, "Anne, Mildred, I know times are hard   and unless something in our lives yield, we will lose our house. I was visits by our landlord, and he said-" He stopped to steady himself, "We are in debt for five thousand pounds." The sisters' mouths hung open. "He's given us a week to pay him." Their father continued. The two girls sensed a big "unless" coming, and waited anxiously. Arnold took a deep breath and firmly spoke, "Girls, as your father I care for you but there is no other way to raise five thousand pounds in a week unless you two...." He found it hard to continue, he'd promised his dear Lily he would take care of her babies and protect them no matter what. Millie went over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Father, Anne and I will do whatever it takes, just name it."
    He looked back up at his daughters, they were all he had left ever since Lily, his beloved wife and light of his life, died, leaving him a hollow, broken man. He took a deep breath before saying, "I am afraid the only way to keep our home is for it to become... a brothel."
The last word was nearly a hoarse whisper. Anne managed to ask, her eyes wide, "You mean, Millie and I are to become-" Her father cut her off, "Prostitutes? Yes."