The morning light crept through the thin curtains, soft and pale against the grimy windowpane. Bianca stirred beneath the scratchy blanket, her body aching in places she hadn't expected. Every movement reminded her of last night—the sharp bite of soreness in her thighs, the lingering heat still simmering deep inside her.
She sat up slowly, fingers tracing over her skin as if trying to map the invisible marks left behind. The room was silent except for the distant hum of the city waking up. Outside, the streets were already bustling with life, indifferent to the struggles hidden in its shadows.
Bianca's reflection caught her eye in the cracked mirror hanging crookedly on the wall. She studied the tired, pale face staring back—dark circles under eyes that had seen too much, lips slightly swollen from the night's kisses, hair tangled and damp. The girl she once was felt like a distant memory.
She reached for the money folded neatly on the small table beside the bed. It wasn't just cash—it was a symbol of survival, a currency bought with pain and courage. Still, a knot tightened in her stomach. Could she really keep doing this? Was there any other way?
Her fingers traced the edge of the bills, heart beating a little faster. The fear hadn't disappeared—it lurked beneath the surface, a constant whisper reminding her how fragile everything was. But beneath the fear was something stronger now—a steely resolve.
Bianca rose from the bed, stretching her aching muscles. She pulled on her worn jacket, the fabric rough against her skin, and stepped toward the door. Today, like every day, the city awaited her. The streets didn't care about her dreams or doubts—they only demanded one thing: survival.
Outside, the air was colder than the night before. She pulled the collar of her jacket higher and merged into the flow of people moving through the busy streets. Each step was heavier, but she moved forward, ready to face whatever came next.
The city was a harsh teacher, but Bianca was learning fast. She knew this was just the beginning—and somehow, she was ready.
The city's noise pressed around Bianca like a constant tide as she stepped into the busy streets, her footsteps lost among the hurried crowd. The early morning chill bit at her skin, but she welcomed it — a sharp contrast to the heat still lingering inside her from last night.
She moved carefully, eyes scanning the faces passing by, searching for familiarity or maybe just a hint of kindness. But the city was indifferent, a cold machine that ground lives down without mercy. Bianca felt small, invisible in the crush of bodies, yet somehow she carried a secret fire beneath her skin — a fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, she could find her way.
Her first stop was a small café tucked between two towering buildings. The scent of fresh coffee and warm bread pulled at her senses, a rare comfort in the rough world she'd stepped into. She ordered a black coffee, savoring the bitter heat as she pressed it between her cold fingers.
Sitting by the window, Bianca watched as people hurried by—faces flushed with purpose or exhaustion, lives full of stories she could only imagine. She thought about her own story—how it had twisted from dreams of a better life to the raw reality of the night before. It was a sharp line she'd crossed, and the weight of it settled heavy on her chest.
Her phone buzzed softly—an unexpected message from a friend she hadn't spoken to in months. She hesitated before opening it, fingers trembling slightly. The message was brief, a question about how she was doing. Bianca's throat tightened. Could she tell the truth? Could she say she'd sold her body to survive?
Instead, she typed back a vague reply, the words feeling hollow even as she pressed send.
The day stretched ahead, and Bianca knew she needed to prepare. She found a quiet corner in a small park, brushing through her few belongings—a worn makeup kit, a change of clothes, and the money she'd earned. She touched each item as if drawing strength from them, a ritual to armor herself for the hours to come.
Her mind drifted back to last night—the feel of skin on skin, the harsh breaths and urgent movements. The memory was a mix of pain and pleasure, fear and strange exhilaration. It had changed something inside her, cracked open a part of herself she hadn't known existed.
As the sun climbed higher, Bianca made her way toward the darker streets where she would meet her next client. The buildings cast long shadows, the air thick with the scent of gasoline and distant rain. Her steps slowed, the familiar knot of nervous anticipation tightening in her belly.
She wasn't sure what the day would bring, but she knew this life was hers now—rough, dangerous, and unpredictable. And somewhere beneath the surface of fear and exhaustion, a fierce determination burned.
Bianca squared her shoulders and stepped into the night once more, ready to face whatever came next.