Witness protection sucks.
No friends, family, connections, or intimacy are retained.
The anonymous advert made her a working girl now.
So many strangers are touching, using, and enjoying her.
She craves closeness and compassion, a kind word, or a gentle moment.
She suffers a relentless procession of pent-up frustration from tormented men.
She saves the cash to escape one fine day.
She knows no names and gathers no friends.
“Hello Amanda, it’s been a long time. You were hard to find.”
The face is smiling, but the voice is chilling.
She finally has something to embrace, death finally found her.
