"Night Judy," I called from the top of the stairs before walking into the room that Harry and I shared. The night had been spent talking and eating, and I finally felt at home. Judy had told us how she had lost her husband three years before and that she was absorbing herself into a novel she had been trying to write since she was a teenager.

The soup had filled me and I enjoyed not being hungry anymore. The feeling of security was nice, it wrapped me up in a blanket and for once I thought things were finally looking up. Judy was possibly the nicest person I had ever met and took us both under her wing as if we were her children. 

I had showered and for the first time in a week and a half, I looked and felt like my normal self. I could see myself when I looked in the mirror. Judy had lent me a pair of purple silk pyjamas which rubbed softly on my bruised and battered skin. I felt fancy, like a true lady.

Laying in bed, I grinned at the ceiling, not even trying to hide my joy. We had a home! It didn't even bother me that Harry was still not talking to me even though he had talked to Judy all evening. It had become apparent that he was no longer disturbed by his past but he was annoyed at something I had done.

"Harry, what's wrong?" I asked as he lay next to me, only wearing his boxers which Judy had washed and dried for him. The darkness provided a perfect space to talk seeing as I couldn't see his pissed off expression and he couldn't see my bewilderment at his mood.

He let out an exasperated sigh before speaking in a blunt tone," I just thought that once I had told you about my past, and shared as much as I did, that you would tell me why you are running."

He switched on the lights, meaning we were face to face and I couldn't back out. I knew he wanted answers.

I sucked in my breath as I tried to decide whether to tell him. I trusted him now that I knew his story, but I didn't know if I was ready to tell mine.

"I was a prostitute. My boyfriend -ex boyfriend- was my pimp. I liked the lifestyle at first but then I grew to hate it. So I ran," I could feel myself getting choked up as I thought about it. The remembering hurt too much.

"I can tell that's not all. Just tell me Matilda, it will make you feel better," and with that I told him everything.

"When I was fifteen, my mother kicked me out of the house because I was dating someone who was twenty four and she didn't approve. So I moved in with said boyfriend despite only dating for a month. His name was Derek.

I knew that he was a pimp and occasionally traded drugs- but I could look past that. I really believed I loved him. He was my night. My day. My everything.

After five months of glorious dating, he asked me if I could help out with his business. He needed younger girls so he could attract more clients and he asked if I wanted to try being a prostitute. I did it for him. I was fifteen.

At first, I almost liked being a prostitute. I basked in the attention they gave me and enjoyed spending the money I had earned. I bought designer clothes and new phones. But best of all, Derek told me he loved me even more.

But soon things turned sour.

The first person I watched being killed was a girl named Tracy. We had arrived to a house together, expecting only one client, to find thirty men standing before us. Tracy argued back, saying that she wouldn't sleep with everyone because she believed that there would only be one man. They stabbed her, thirty times in the stomach while I watched on. Afterwards they made me do some horrible things.

I went back to find Derek drunk and unbothered about Tracy or I. I cried myself to sleep and I couldn't walk for days after. That was really the turning point for me.

Over my two years as being a prostitute, I watched twenty people die from either murder or exhaustion. Derek worked the girls too hard and didn't pay them enough. I had ten abortions because of clients reckless behaviour. They just didn't put a condom on.

The worst part was that Derek didn't care. He didn't care that I was doing it all for him.

I had left school for him despite the fact that I was a promising student. I was going to be a journalist- I was going to have a life. But I left it all for what? Sleeping with men who didn't even see me as a human. For who? A man who didn't even love me.

I had no one to help me get out of that life. I had put myself in that situation. So I ran away from it all. "

I didn't even realise that I was crying until Harry wiped away the tears that streamed down my cheeks. He didn't say anything as he held me and I was worried about whether what I had told him would change the way he saw me.

"You probably think that I'm a dirty whore," I mumbled, trying to break the awkwardness that hung over us.

"No," he replied back and looked me in the eye, "I believe you are a girl who loved the wrong man. Got caught up in the wrong crowd and did what you could to survive."

So now you know why Matilda is running! Who expected that?

Also note that I have written this chapter twice now because I am stupid and accidentally deleted the first draft. God I am an idiot.

Please vote and comment if you enjoyed :)