I move close to Lisa and her eyes are wide with...fear maybe? She takes a deep breath then exhales slowly.
"My mother is, or rather was a hooker. We lived in a rundown shackle in the streets before I became of age. She would bring her customers over, and I would sleep on floor and sometimes out in the cold when the clients objected my presence. Most of them were rowdy men, drunk as sailors and reeking of dirt and cheap drugs. That never bothered me at first..."
She lifts her eyes to look at me and I'm totally frozen on the spot. What is it with the people I meet of late? They are all from the streets which is really confusing.
Lisa touches my arm.
"Bree, are you listening?"
"Yes. Please continue." My voice is a shaky whisper.
"So one night when I was about thirteen, a drunk client ca
