14: Shame

I scrutinize my reflection in the mirror.

I no longer recognize the person staring back at me. This can't be Amelia George. Amelia's wandering around somewhere, she left a while ago. Or rather, she stayed in that room with Mr. Pascual's hands on her tits. This is Yara Huxley, the girl that would do anything to please. The girl that doesn't exist.

I've never felt this unclean before. I could roll around in mud and eat dog shit and I still wouldn't feel this way. It's the kind of dirt that soaks into the skin and embeds itself right beneath the surface. No amount of scrubbing will get it out. It's there for life, as a reminder of what I've done. What I let that man do to me.

I'm in the lounge's bathroom. The job is done, the deal sealed. Or maybe it isn't, I wasn't paying enough attention. All I could do was stare as his hands rubbed circles on my skin. Every time he'd move his hand closer to my breasts or under my dress, I'd hold my breath. He went as far as touching my clit. And all