[ WP ] Make me cry .

At age fifteen, Lana thought of herself as old. All the other girls who belonged to Daddy Cash were younger than her. The new girl, Pixie, was only eleven. 
 
 Lana watched Pixie, standing just a few feet down on the track, and a car stopped in front of her. Pixie ’ s girlish giggle made Lana queasy. She walked further up the strip, adjusting her top slightly so it showed a line of skin above her skirt. She looked back towards Pixie, but she had already gotten into the car and it drove past Lana. She watched them drive and then turn right, toward the closest motel. 
 
 That left only Lana. The others, Jackie and Vixen, already found their first trick of the night too. Lana fumbled in her clutch and pulled out her Newports. She had quit a few times, but sometimes she didn ’ t even know why. She wouldn ’ t live long enough to get lung cancer, anyway. She lit the cigarette and felt the side of her head where she ’ d gotten eleven stitched the year before. Sometimes the tricks got violent. 
 
 Sometimes Daddy Cash got violent. Not that she called him daddy, not anymore. She didn ’ t even refer to him as “ boyfriend ” anymore, like the other girls did. Lana thought of him as what he was: a pimp. She knew he was using her, and these other girls. Sometimes she thought she only went back to him because she had nowhere else to go. Lana took another drag of her cigarette. No, she couldn ’ t lie to herself that much. A part of her still loved him. A part of her still believed he loved her too. How many times had she left him? 
 
 And no matter what, Cash always welcomed her back. “ This is your home, ” he told her. “ I ’ m your family, kiddo. ” That ’ s family, Lana knew. No one else in her whole life had ever done that to her. Hell, her own mother wouldn ’ t welcome Lana back if Lana was bleeding to death on her front porch. Lana felt guilty for doubting Cash ’ s love for her sometimes. So what if he was a pimp? So what if he was using her? Everyone uses everyone. 
 
 “ Hey, babydoll, ” a man ’ s voice said out of the car that pulled up to her. She leaned over, looking at the man in the car. He looked like a cop. She couldn ’ t pinpoint one specific thing that made her think this, she just felt it in her gut. “ How much? ” 
 
 “ How much for what? ” She said. She stepped away from the car. “ Have a nice night, officer. Nothing ’ s for sale here. ” 
 
 “ I ’ m not a cop, ” the man said. 
 
 “ Sure, ” Lana said. “ Have a nice night, then, whoever you are. ” 
 
 “ I ’ ve got $ 500, ” the man said, and Lana leaned forward again. He pulled the money out of a pocket in his jacket. “ What do you say? ” 
 
 If she brought home $ 500, she could call it a night. That would make Cash happy. Lately she hadn ’ t been making that much. The night she ’ d come home with only $ 50… well. Lana sighed and threw her cigarette on the ground. She got into the car. 
 
 _________ 
 
 An hour later, Lana was being searched at the police station. What a jerk, she thought. She flinched as the officer patted her down. 
 
 He ’ d arrested her as soon as she stepped out of the car. He ’ d put her in handcuffs and went through her rights. “ You have the right to remain silent… ” 
 
 She should ’ ve known. $ 500 for one trick? Since when had that happened to her? She ’ d never gotten arrested before, and when they handed her the orange jumpsuit that smelled like feet, she wanted to throw up. 
 
 The officer had made her an offer. A way out of getting arrested. She spit in his face and then he gabbed her and turned her around, slamming her against his car and pressing himself against her. He'd whispered in her ear. `` I could do what I wanted anyway. Who would they believe? An officer of the law, or a street trash hooker?'' And then he'd tightened her handcuffs even more harshly, and shoved her in the back of the car. 
 
 _____ 
 
 She waited four hours before they let her make a phone call. She called the only number she knew by heart. Cash ’ s. 
 
 “ It ’ s Lana, ” she said into the phone when he answered. “ Cash, I ’ ve been arrested… I don ’ t know what happened. Look, the bail is $ 1000… ” 
 
 “ Lana, I ca n't,'' Cash said. `` Look, Pixie has n't come back or checked in with me yet either. I'll see you when you get out.'' 
 
 “ Cash- “ But he had already hung up the phone. She held the phone tighter, keeping it pressed against her ear, trying to stop shaking. She felt her eyes sting, but she took a deep breath and put the phone back on the receiver. 
 
 She walked silently back to the chairs in front of the booking desks. An officer shouted at her to go back to the cell. Numbly, she stood up and walked to the back, toward the holding cell. She ignored the other women and huddled in a corner, hugging her knees to her chest. 
 
 What were other fifteen year old girls doing now? Going to sleep probably, on a school night. Having finished their homework and brushed their teeth. Put their school books neatly into their backpack. Set their cell phone alarms on in time to eat breakfast with their mom and catch the school bus in the morning. 
 
 Lana refused to cry in front of these women. She looked around at them, all older than her, all adults. She wondered what had happened in their lives to bring them here. She wondered if she ’ d grow up to be back here again and again. If she lived that long.
