We only saw Jennifer once.
She still behaved as a child. Soft-spoken and with tears, her body crunched in on itself.
Her words defied her years, “I’m homeless. I have nothing. I grew up in a fucked up situation. Because of my father and brother raping me, I’m screwed up in the brain…
Carmela was in bed nude and high. A john had just left. Filled with heroin her eyes were lolling with her head. Between nods she spoke.
“I ran away when I was 12. I was in five different homes, or maybe seven, I got tired of being molested. It started when I was six.”