ezri // d1. cb. fin.

Freedom.

It's sweet taste lingers on my lips, but somehow still manages to evade me.

I was taken, just twelve years old. They taught me that I wasn't my own, that I was their's to sell. My tan skin and dark hair and curves were perfect for money, but I never had a say, not once.

Until Kolt saved me. He found me and rescued me and gave me the closest to my own freedom that I've ever tasted. 

But he also taught me.

He taught me how to be free, but still use myself to my advantage. I profited from what I have, not just throw it away to another person. It was exhilarating.

So there I stand in front of my mirror, lipstick perfectly on my lips, every hair in place. I pull my top down a little lower, just enough to create a tease.

Because as my friend Basil once said, "Sex sells,"