The night rained down strange feelings inside Alyce. No matter how hard she tried to say that she could feel nothing, her heart could not stop blazing.

"That is the man," Saren said sadly as she looked out on the den's parlor beside Alyce. "He will buy me tonight, I am sure of it."

"He looks kind." Alyce said, her shoulders curling over.

"I'm afraid."

"Don't be. You're my friend. Tomorrow during the day, we will go to the market."

"I'm going to forget who I am, aren't I?"

Alyce closed her eyes, and wrapped her arms around herself. She coughed into the crook of her elbow. The inferno in her heart would not stop blazing. Saren was new. Saren was clean. Alyce was weary. Alyce was tainted.

Years and years ago, there had been a kind old man at a church. The memory was so distant, Alyce wasn't sure if it had actually happened. Many of the things she could happily remember were either dreams or from ages ago when she'd had a family. There wasn't much else to remember aside from what the old man looked like and the building he was at. Stained glass windows depicting heavenly lords and ladies helping those lesser than them. That old man had claimed that anybody could become a saint. Everybody had value.

Though Alyce wasn't sure if she and the other girls held any value.

She could not allow another girl to wallow in misery like herself.

"I have something for you, if we go quietly and quickly, you may see it before Madam comes to find you," Alyce said quietly. She took Saren by the wrist.

"Will I get in trouble?" Saren squeaked.

"No, if you are brave, you won't have to stay here for much longer."

Firmly, Alyce tugged her new friend through the den and over to her small closet. The cloak sat nestled behind Alyce's wooden cot. The fire in Alyce's heart was counteracted by something green, bitter, and hateful. The cloak belonged to Alyce. It was the one good thing she'd received in years.

"Take this," Alyce said, shoving the expensive cloak into Saren's crossed arms. "You must sell it. There is an inn looking for a barmaid. Tomorrow I will be with a nobleman. He will listen to me, and your father will work for him."

"Alyce... I can't take this from you."

"No, you must. The cloak is yours now." The fire blazed even brighter. "I have garlins hidden in a loose spot in the city wall near the river's gate. Take those too. I have no use for them."

"Why are you doing this?"

"I don't know," Alyce confessed. "You're clean. You don't belong here."

"But-"

"Go away, you can leave through the window. Go now, or Madam will find you and neither of us will be able to own that cloak."

The bitter monster trying to steal back the cloak was defeated the second Saren broke into a disbelieving smile. Alyce wondered what would've happened if somebody had granted her a way to escape from the den. There was no hope left in Alyce. She coughed into the back of her hand, and wiped it against her crimson skirt.

"You've put all other friends I've ever had to shame," Saren whispered. She threw her arms around Alyce, her tears dampened Alyce's dull hair.

"You are one of the only friends I have ever had."

Saren escaped through the room's glass window, and gave Alyce a final wave before she vanished into the night. Envy. That's what Alyce felt now rather than the thrills of charity. Why hadn't anybody given away a nobleman's cloak and several garlins to her? She was young and unafraid before, but now she was timid and used. Alyce was nothing. There were many curses pulsing through Alyce's heart as she thought of the warm cloak and her garlins belonging to somebody else. Those curses all faded a way the second she realized that Saren would never have to feel the same way Alyce felt each passing moment.

Was it worth it to sacrifice her dreams of escape so someone else wouldn't have to share the same dream?

Madam was not happy when Alyce came back and told her that Saren had run away. Fury threaded through her painted cheeks. Alyce grimaced within herself, the paint Madam wore did not make her more beautiful. Painted faces were frightening, but then again, Madam was a terrifying person herself.

"You will take Sar's place," Madam ordered.

"Yes, Madam."

"Do not share your name, and do not linger. Do not allow the client to see your face. Do not cough before the client, or he will think you are sick, and we will lose money."

"Yes, Madam."

However, the second Madam turned away, Alyce slipped behind the sanctuary of a wall. Emotion. Emotion was pulsing through her. While she'd set Saren free from the worst kind of fate, Alyce had only succeeded in dooming herself. She coughed into her hand, and didn't dare look at her palm. Alyce reasoned that it was better for Saren to have taken the cloak and garlins, she had time and use for them. If given the chance to escape, Alyce was certain she'd only cower and back away. What was left for her? Who would care for her?

Alyce coughed into her hand again, and realized that soon she would be taken care of. She wiped the bloody spittle on her crimson skirt and gathered the tiny shreds of dignity she had left. Her client was waiting for her, and tomorrow, she would see Darius again.

She didn't need to worry about who would care for her. The blood on her hand confirmed that.

Alyce would soon find comfort in Death's arms.