PRETTY FLOWER - by Khadijah Mohammed

Pretty flower Chapter one...The world indeed. . . is a scary place. There is always something about the August rain; it comes at will, and it goes at its own time. It cannot be commanded, but provoked? Yes. That is the best way I can describe today. I parked in front of the cemetery. I guess the weatherman wasn’t joking when he said it was going to rain cats and dogs. The clouds were grey and there was no sign of anyone outside… well, no one except me. I would have come out of the car but where will I stay to hide from the rain? I guess I’m stuck in here for a while. It has become a tradition you know, on the 15th of August every Year, I am always here, to pay my respects to you, to say I love you. After all, you are the only link I have left to the girl in that shabby hostel. Fifteen Years Earlier. . . Amber lay on her bed, it was a cardboard covered with a damp cloth. It was a big space, enough to take fifteen girls but it was a shabby-looking room, with only one window and a leaky ceiling. That was where the girls who misbehaved were kept. The girls who kept quiet, attended to the clients and brought in money were kept in a much different room. Normally the naughty girls stay here for about three to five days but she had been here for a month. This was a way for Madam to break their will, and though it worked for some, others, it didn’t. Either way, the girls must work to earn their stay in this shithole. She faced a corner of the wall, distracting herself from the moans that came from the other girls, few inches away from her. She held the newspaper that up again. She had read it so many times but she didn’t know what else to read. MOTHER KILLS HERSELF THREE DAYS AFTER DAUGHTER’S BURIAL. That was the headline. She knew the story, it was about a girl who committed suicide by jumping into a well and now, her mother was dead. “oh well! Lucky girl! ” she said to herself. Lying beside her was her daughter. she was fast asleep. And she will be out cold for the next few hours thanks to the sleeping pill. Her last client left some minutes ago and it would have been awkward having a crying baby while servicing her client. They didn’t mind that a baby was beside her, she didn’t mind either, it was the crying that bothered them. Plus, she couldn’t take the risk of allowing her daughter remember her that way. Amber was young, light skin and the kind of beauty that wasn’t rare but at the same time, wasn’t common. She was short and slim. She used to be chubby but she barely gets anything to eat. She had become slim, her bones protruding from her neck line and legs had become weak. But even still, she had one of those faces you don’t really see so often. Once upon a time, Amber was privileged to get into the crystal room but not more than a few times. It was one of those rooms that the privileged girls were expected to stay. It wasn’t because she earned it but her clients who could afford it paid for it. She had regular clients, some paid a fortune for her and others who couldn’t would literally fight to have a night with her. She was worth it all. She had lived in the next town since the day she was born, only remembering the day she left her mother because it was either her or her mother. Her mother was an alcoholic and a drug user. She wanted to be actress so when she turned 18, she chose herself and left. She wandered the streets for days — stealing what she could, sleeping where she found space. It wasn’t until one day, someone approached her. He was dirty and hungry; he offered her money in exchange for sex. She wanted to say no, every ounce of her wanted to say no but she didn’t. This free life was everything. It was better than living with her drunk mother and her six siblings, in that incomplete nonsense they called a house. could give her. That was what she told herself to sleep well at night. It started with that man and slowly, it became three men and eventually, she had customers. Day after day, she would stay by the street and attract her customers. It was good at first, she finally had something to eat and a better place to sleep. But then, it stopped being easy and she became worried. One night when she was at her usual spot, she was approached by a woman. She had sores on her lips, her skin looked pale and her some spots on her skin. She was tall, thin and look unkept. She wore a dress that had holes, her panty liners were torn and reeked of something foul. At first she didn’t speak, she just stood beside her and waited for her own customers. A man later approached her. He was in a car, a black car. He looked at Amber and signalled her to come closer. He was young, handsome and had a cigar to his mouth.. “How much for a night?” he said. “10,000,” Amber said hesitantly. “That’s much, but you are lucky I like my women …young. C’mon, hop in. He said She wasn’t use d to charging so high but she has never had a customer who drove such a nice car. “Get in sweetie… sit at the back.” He said again. She didn’t ask questions. She did as she was told. The moment she sat in the car, the other lady entered from the other side. Before she could say anything, the other woman attacked. She tried to fight back but the man was strong. He held her down while the other woman injected her. She screamed, and screamed but eventually, she could no longer hear her own voice. By the time was awake, she found herself in a room. Her face bruised badly, her body hurt so much. She couldn’t remember much, other than she was in a room for days. She could remember men coming in days after days to use her body however they liked. How she got out was the mysterious part to her. That was when she met Madame Loranne. Madame Loranne told her how she was left on the street for death for four days until she came around. She took care of her, treated her injuries until she was better. Madame Loranne gave her an option, stay in the house and be one of her girls, she would be fed, given clothes, and a bed to sleep on, or go out there again and fend to survive, she chose to stay.

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