The walls shook with muffled sounds , the thuds, the cries, the low, guttural pleasure of the girls working in the house. I pressed the pillow over my ears, my knuckles turning white against the fabric, but it barely helped. Every sound seemed amplified, each echo hammering against my skull. The music from downstairs pounded through the floorboards, bass rattling like a warning drum. I could already hear some of the girls whose rooms were near mine, voices cutting through the din in panicked or forced laughter.
I hugged my knees to my chest, trying to suppress the images forming in my mind. Every scream, every moan, painted a picture I didn’t want to see. But no matter how tightly I squeezed my eyes shut or buried my face in the pillow, the reality seeped in, unrelenting.
Sleep was impos
