Diary of a One-Legged Prostitute

asn't the result of a single decision but a series of events-some tragic, some absurd-that led me here. But don't worry, this isn't goin

s a luxury no one could afford. My childhood was simple: school, friends, and the occasional crush on the boy next door. My sister Clara and I were inse

g changed whe

eight. I was crossing the street on my way home from school, daydreaming about college and all the adventures waiting fo

ines and the sterile smell of antiseptic. My parents were there, their faces pale a

her voice trembling, "y

with it, a piece of my identity. The doctors told me I was luc

shock-like your brain can't quite process what's happened-followed by a wave of anger and grief that hits

slowly, I learned to adapt. Crutches became an extension of my body before I graduated to my fi

e brought snacks we weren't supposed to have and told me st

with mischief. "Mrs. Abernathy got caught sneaking out of the butcher

brief moments, she made me forget about everything-the p

fe as an amputee was harder than I'd anticipated. People stared at me wherever I went-so

through the world; it changes how the world sees you. Suddenly

d dreams of becoming an artist; I had no idea what I wanted anymore. All I knew was

out your past or your scars. But reality hit hard when we realized how expensive free

jobs-but nothing seemed to stick. Employers always looked at my prosthetic

interview, Clara found me sitting on our ti

she sat beside me. "You're killing yourself tryi

ith me long after

on an ad for "high-class escorts." At first glance, it seemed absurd-a last

thought you would. When your back is against the wall and bills are piling up fa

y in a nondescript building downtown. The women there were g

said after looking me over. "

code for "you've got one l

an who wanted someone to accompany him to dinner and pretend to laugh

he one-legged call girl who could c