Casurana Close was the name on the hanging sign. Many wooden houses were in this small gap, barely kept together like threads; stacked so close to each other that a cough would make one think it was in the same place.

Martini had left that night with a deceiving smile on her face, aimed towards the one looking at her. The clothes she wore were her disguise as she whispered a silent prayer.

The child stood tall in the derelict shack of a house, looking on at his mother. The paint on the walls had long disappeared, and the roof looked like rain would bring it down. Garbage littered the floor, which was bare of furniture, only a grey mattress with a torn blue sheet. There was no TV, only a few books scattered on the ground. The electricity was long gone and replaced by a single candle for light.

The boy had never met his father. For him, his mother was both. His youthful eyes could not comprehend his circumstances, as he spoke from his heart, "Be safe, Mommy. Come back soon."

All his mother could do was smile as she touched his shoulder, avoiding meeting his brown eyes. The bruise on her neck was revealed for a fraction before she hid it behind her collar.

She turned away, not looking back, and, at that moment, tears filled her eyes. The chilly wind echoed its breeze upon them as she took the first steps away. He watched by the door, waiting for her to say something. She, however, could not utter a word at this last moment to her son.

Then came another unexpected voice that had been waiting for her. The man was youthful with a scar ran across his cheek. He wore a huge gold chain with the word lust. His clothes were simple in comparison, but embroidered with a visible logo and his black curly hair was faded on the sides.

"Don't worry, kid, your mom will come back home. She probably won't make much today with the 19th being soon. Don't wait up—she has lots of work to do."

The kid, who was still waiting, nodded his head slowly before gently closing the door.

Martini walked forward, her bag in hand. The man bowed ironically as he helped her into the car.

"If I didn't know any better," he said, "your acting could have fooled me. You have left him alone this time? Let down by your sister and best friend? I wonder why they couldn't babysit? If you brought him along, I would of done it myself."

Martini said nothing in return, just stared down the road blankly as the car took off to its destination, a place that she had been so frequent. A place she probably wished she didn't have to go.

The man laughed and sang his way there, playing music for his own entertainment. It seemed he got some level of kick from the suffering of others. Martini was the first of many girls he would pick up along the way. All had their own circumstances and reasons, but what they all shared was the need for money to survive.

Unlike everyone else, however, Martini was the only one dressed differently. It made the other girls feel slighted. They spoke amongst themselves, believing that she saw herself as better than them. They made her the target of their frustrations.

Martini didn't mind, she took it all, their glares, the constant talking behind her back, and even the unnecessary arguments they would start whenever she talked to them.

One thing she knew about this job was she didn't need friends—she just needed money and safety. That's why, despite her sweet and innocent look, she always held a knife in her stockings.

They had all finally arrived at their destination.

"Your home, ladies," the man mockingly proclaimed as he got out of the car and bowed by the street light. "Earn as much as you can." His eyes gazed around the road to make sure that the coast was clear.

Martini also looked around at the road, the vacated alley, then to the bar with a few trees and the small shopping places that surrounded it. Getting arrested here was not something she would leave up to chance. It had happened before, but it was a rare occurrence for the police to show themselves here or even arrest anyone, despite it being against the law.

The other girls got out whilst Martini remained, each had their own spot, some worked together, others worked alone.

She stripped down as her back ached. She unpinned her sepia hair and as it fell, she observed the bruises upon her body in the light. She counted for a moment as they stood out on her brown skin with warm orange-red undertones. She rubbed her snub nose and smiled in the car mirror, but she knew it was fake. Her sunken mahogany eyes were lifeless as she did it a few times. Her eyebrows arched when her high cheek bones rose as she puckered her moist lips. She whispered one last time a silent prayer.

When she was done, she watched a man stumble from 6 Monthaonca Bar. She couldn't believe her eyes, it was Domenic. She instinctively walked behind him. Was this hope she had finally found? The memories of their shared past flooded her mind, but as she approached his car, she saw a man she did not know, his face had changed much like her own.

His response to her behaviour differed completely from the person she had known. The world, it seemed, had consumed him too.

Defeated, she headed back to work with her eyes still focused upon his car. In the alley graffiti upon the wall was the symbol of men, black and white pounding on chains with a hammer and at the back of it was an A marked in red.

It wasn't long before she was met with a customer, one she knew too well. He paid well, but the sight of him disgusted her and this was only the beginning of her night.

It was filled with slow hours, rushed past by passersby, the occasional man that didn't want to pay, weird requests and being ridiculed by those driving by. She wore her iron mask and she wore it well. Nothing dissuaded her or brought her down. It was bright now and the first few people were making their way to work. She was unsatisfied with what she had made as she stood by the car with the others. Martini took her time to change as the girls watched her, calling her names and looking at her in disgust.

His eager face greeted them as he counted their money and took his cut. There was silence from all the girls on their way back. Silence from all but one person who sang and laughed to himself.

Martini had lasted the longest here. By right, she was the oldest worker. Most women broke down and went to a pill, a drug which, funnily enough, this man provided. Those that took him up on it were never seen again. She never questioned him and she never accepted – just did what she had to do. In her mind, she had always believed him to be the devil.

She gripped the ends of money tightly in her hand as she came to her stop.

"Here we are, my dear," he said to her, "see you tomorrow." A smile was etched on his face.

She walked towards her house, her body wavering as she approached. Her knees grew weak as she placed the keys in and turned the knob.

There, seated near to the door, was her son wrapped in a blanket on the floor. She knew without a doubt he had waited for her that whole night. She lifted him up, tears filling her eyes, to place him on the bed.

The boy's eyes slightly opened. "Mommy, you're home.