There’s nothing even Sarah can do to help me with that. Right now what I need is a new future.

“Hi, Anna.”

I nod at her but say nothing. I’m not much in the mood for talking now.

“Are you ready for a visit? There’s someone here to see you.”

I blink. “Who?”

“Not who you’d expect.”

I didn’t call anyone. There’s no one to call. No one to come get me, no one who cares.

Is it possible Luis sent someone for me? That he came for me himself? And if he did…do I want to see him? Because even if he cares enough to come for me, I can’t go back. Not now. Not after what happened.

I nod to Sarah anyway. If I don’t take the visit, I’ll always wonder who wanted to see me and why.

Sarah smiles, a sad smile now, and leaves the room.

The door doesn’t open up again for about twenty minutes. A guard comes in and escorts me out. He barely looks at me. No nasty comments or wiggling eyebrows, no “accidental” push into the concrete wall. It’s almost like I’m not a hooker.

We walk down a long, echoey hallway, and then into a new room. There are tables and steel walls. A few guards stand around, but otherwise no one is here. It’s empty.

The guard leads me to a table, and I sit.

I face the way I came in, the entrance that leads back to my prison—literally. Behind me is another entrance, where footsteps tap closer.

I don’t turn my head, but my heart pounds. Finally, the person walks around and stands in front of me.

My stomach drops. No, it doesn’t just drop, it disappears. As much as I didn’t want to see Luis, I expected to see him.

But it’s not Luis.

My blood runs cold, looking at a face I never expected to see again. A face I never wanted to see again.

My father.

Everything stops, like time is frozen or something. He stares at me; I stare at him.

His facial hair has never been so long, but otherwise he looks exactly the same. Like a Hispanic politician. He’s not really a politician; he’s the CEO of some big company that I never understood, and he has a lot of influence in a lot of places. Anyone with money does. And he has money, though I never knew where it went. Probably toward that shiny Corvette of his.

He looks older, bags under his eyes.

His skin has always been dark like mine. Put us next to each other and it’s clear I’m his daughter.

“Anna,” he finally says, hard and gravelly. He frowns, looks away, and after a moment, turns around.

I don’t even know how to describe this feeling. Like horror and heartbreak at once.

The last time he saw me, I was that little girl with unruly curls and pearls. Now I can’t even imagine what he sees. A street-scum teen with matted hair, ripped clothes, and yellowing bruises around her eye.

I’m not even sure how he recognized me.

But he did. It’s no wonder he doesn’t turn back around.

I squeeze my hands together and watch as my fingers twist, trying to quash the desire for him to look at me again. To see those brown eyes so much like my own. Because I can’t want that.

I always knew how he would feel to know where I’ve been, what I’ve been doing. He’d hate me more than he ever did before. He’d wish I were never born.

Was it his choice to put up those missing person posters? Does he regret looking for me? Is that why he’s ignoring me now?

My father leaves without another glance back. When the door opens, I see my mother in the hallway, waiting for him, waiting to find out if the girl in this room is the daughter she lost.

The daughter she never fought for.

Of course she didn’t come in herself. Ever the dutiful trophy wife. Even when things were at their worst, she never stood up for me.

A long time ago, she and I were close. She sang me songs to sleep. I told her everything. Good. Bad. But the worse things got between my father and me, the more she pulled away.

She doesn’t look toward me as the door closes, like she’s afraid of what will happen if it’s really me. What she’ll have to acknowledge.

I’m a ruined child now. Not even worth looking at.

I always knew that, so why do their reactions bother me? Why do I want them to want me so badly?

Maybe because I need someone to.

Anyone.

Luis used to call me his diamond in the rough, after he’d saved me from the street. He’d cup my face in his hands like I was something precious. But eventually precious started to mean valuable, something to be traded, sold, used.

And then thrown away once the value was gone. I wasn’t even valuable anymore.

I stare at the table in front of me and listen to their muted voices coming from the hallway. Guess I wanted out, and I guess this is one way to do it. I won’t have to return to the streets that ruined me. The man who loved and betrayed me.

But if it means going back to the parents I’m sure will hate me forever…

Back to the impossibly perfect movie life in the suburbs…

How can I, Anna Rodriguez, hooker, go back to any of that? I didn’t belong before, and now?

No, I’m better off staying in jail.

Sarah comes back into the room. I sit silently at the metal table.

“Do you know what will happen now?” she asks me in a near whisper.

I close my eyes and think. Of all the things that could happen, this wasn’t something that I ever thought possible.

I open my eyes and nod. “They’ll take me back to prison.”

Sarah looks confused. “Your parents are going to take you home.”

“Yeah, that’s what I mean.”

Is it strange that I’ve come to like her? I shouldn’t, I know I shouldn’t. But she’s the only one in the world who believes in me right now. I don’t want her to give up on me, not yet.

Sarah sighs, so light I’m sure she didn’t expect me to hear it. I look up. She blinks, her face controlled, calculating. Only her eyes betray the sympathy, the sadness. I’m not sure how I feel about her pity, but I guess I have more important things to worry about right now.

She’s going to send me home. Like I can even still call it that.

How can I go back? How can I walk down the halls I played in as a child? Sit at the table where my parents taught me to write my name?

I suppose I do have good memories there, but that almost makes it worse. It makes me look like even more of a screwup.

“I know there was probably a reason you left in the first place, Anna.” She talks slowly, measuring each word. “Is there any reason for you to believe you might, in any way, be in danger if you go back home?”

I pause, considering the question. “I guess if someone followed me from New York.”

“That’s not what I mean,” she says. She waits until I meet her eyes. “Your parents.”

I shake my head quickly, finally understanding. No. My mom never hurt me. And my father? The only scars he left were emotional. But every disappointing look will dig deeper and deeper. If he decides to tell me this is all the proof he needs to believe I’m not worth anything, why I’ll never be worth anything…

“I can help you, Anna. You just have to tell me.”

Let’s just say I’ve seen a lot worse than what my parents can deal out.

“I’m in no danger with them. They used to love me. They just didn’t understand me.”

She nods slowly.

I ask, “Will I ever see you?”

Her mouth opens a little. I guess she’s surprised; I never let on that I might actually like her.

“We can talk anytime. I work out of New York, but Westchester isn’t far, so I can come see you any time you need it. And if anything happens, you call me, okay?”

I nod, knowing that’s not enough to get me through this…but at least it’s something.

Chapter Three

It hasn’t really hit me what’s happening until the van pulls up to my old house. It’s big, white, with a full, manicured garden. The Japanese maple tree sitting there, right beside the stone steps that lead up to the wraparound porch, staring at me.