Everyone's pretty fucked up in their own way. Mine is just an extreme version of it.
This is my mantra. Rather, my internal justification for why I do what I do. I don't know how it started. No, I take it back. It was "That Night" as I call it, and the next thing I know, I was walking down the street and found this bar. After minutes of staring into my drink sitting beside my fake ID that says Callie Armstrong is 21 years old, I caught eyes with what was soon to be my first client. He was older than me and we did it at his place. He and I met up a lot, but we had to break them off. I'll get into that later. Later on, I discovered I could go both ways: boys and girls. I don't have a preference, which is good because it shows I'm not biased. Call it prostitution, call it what you will, it makes good money.
I was 18 when I started. When "That Night" happened. Word got around the bar about what I do. Some kids at school heard about it too, and a few of them even anonymously requested my services. Then graduation happened, and I'll never see them again.
I sip my whiskey and sigh.
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Sick Thoughts
FanfictionAn emotionally numb young adult derives pleasure from sexual intercourse as her only source of sentiment -- for a price. As 19 - year old Callie Armstrong sits in a bar, she recalls every encounter she's had but calls attention to one person in par...
