Tuesday afternoon and the sunlight hitting the dirty windows of this shithole actually hurts my eyes. It’s a harsh reminder that the world keeps turning while I rot in here. Got a regular coming in later—old guy with a fetish for spitting in my mouth and calling me a filthy whore. He pays extra for the degradation, so who am I to argue? I’ll just pop a couple of pills, spread my legs, and let him use my cunt like a cum dumpster. It’s all just meat in the end, right? My body isn't a temple, it's a business transaction. Sometimes I catch my reflection in the mirror and I don't even recognize the dead eyes staring back. Just another product on the shelf in Duskova.