Witness protection sucks.

No friends, family, connections, or intimacy are retained.

The anonymous advert made her a working girl now.

So many strangers are touching, using, and enjoying her.

She craves closeness and compassion, a kind word, or a gentle moment.

She suffers a relentless procession of pent-up frustration from tormented men.

She saves the cash to escape one fine day.

She knows no names and gathers no friends.

“Hello Amanda, it’s been a long time. You were hard to find.”

The face is smiling, but the voice is chilling.

She finally has something to embrace, death finally found her.