Everyone's pretty fucked up in their own way. Mine is just an extreme version of it.

This is my mantra.  Rather, my internal justification for why I do what I do.  I don't know how it started.   No, I take it back.   It was "That Night" as I call it, and the next thing I know, I was walking down the street and found this bar.   After minutes of staring into my drink sitting beside my fake ID that says Callie Armstrong is 21 years old, I caught eyes with what was soon to be my first client.  He was older than me and we did it at his place.  He and I met up a lot, but we had to break them off.  I'll get into that later.  Later on, I discovered I could go both ways: boys and girls. I don't have a preference, which is good because it shows I'm not biased.   Call it prostitution, call it what you will, it makes good money.

I was 18 when I started.  When "That Night" happened.  Word got around the bar about what I do. Some kids at school heard about it too, and a few of them even anonymously requested my services.  Then graduation happened, and I'll never see them again.

I sip my whiskey and sigh.