Sherri slipped her shirt over her head, smiling as Good Life faded from the radio while she straightened out her top, making sure she looked ready for the day. Getting dressed up for work was a pleasant change as opposed to dressing down and making sure she revealed enough of her body to get men to pull over and pick her up for a quick twenty bucks. This really was the good life. She found a new family, came clean of drugs, left the streets, making honest money, and doing something positive with her life. A couple of weeks ago, she laid in the gutter, almost on the verge of death, drugs coursing through her veins, a gum wrapper stuck in her hair as drool slid from her mouth to dribble down her chin. She should have died that day, but Regina Hawthorn, as the dybbuk, entered her body and unw
