“Charity, what he did to you, it’s assault. It’s a crime. We should report it.”
Her one good eye goes wide. And I read the hopelessness there. “Report it?” she repeats. “To who?”
I hesitate. “To… to the police?”
“The police?” she echoes again. “That’s a joke. The cops in this city don’t give a s**t about people like me. I’m just a w***e to them. A cheap, disgusting, filthy whore.”
“Stop! That’s not what you are.”
“It doesn’t matter, Elyssa,” Charity sighs. “What I am doesn’t matter. All that matters is what they think I am.”
“Well, then…”
I struggle for a moment to find the right word. The word that conveys the enormity of this situation. The word that’ll mean the most to Charity.
“f**k them!”
Charity turns to me, and, despite her busted face, I can see the shock there. “You swore
