It was not because you had a good life that you engaged in prostitution. Your parents were alcoholics and neglected you as a child. You survived as best you could, and selling your body became your salvation.

“Where are you going in such an outfit?” a low voice sounded behind you. You were standing on the highway, waiting for your client.

“Shit...” You think, turning around with an angry look.

“What do you want from me? Are there no thieves on the street?” you snapped, looking at the young policeman. But instead of a lustful smirk or anger, you saw sadness and regret in his clear blue eyes.

“Young lady, you must come with me to the station.” the guy says calmly.