When Mr Edwards came to The Pink Peach, Whitechapel’s most popular brothel, he attracted the attention of all the girls who were exposing their emaciated bodies as colorful and shiny pastries in a candy shop window.
The wealth of that man was clear by his clothes and by his attitude, by the walk of someone used to getting everything he wanted. He laid eyes on the only girl who was standing in the distance, the only one who didn’t smile trying to seduce him.
Honor was not born into poverty.
Her father was a wealthy man, not as rich as Mr Edwards but he had a decent earning.
The bad luck of the family, however, came when the man discovered the gambling. Honor lost her home and her dignity, her father also lost his life.
Alone in the middle of the street, the young woman had nothing else to sell but her virtue. So she went to The Pink Peach.
She immediately recognized Mr Edwards, the man who had won his father’s patrimony, and his executioner.
Honor knew that for months, he was responsible for her ruin. And now he was staring at her with his piggy and lascivious eyes.
A flash of decision appeared in the girl’s eyes as soon as the man grabbed her hand, blocking her circulation. Honor remembered the dagger she had hidden in a pocket in her underwear, the only thing she could take from her old home.
“It’s time to use it …” She thought, leading Mr Edwards upstairs. She smiled.
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