“A girl’s got to put food on the table, even when there’s a head to hunt. Only the girls who dare to be too pretty eat for free,” I say, looking back over to Mom’s eyes, feeling too much hope tugging at my heart, as it slowly sinks in that this is really happening. She clears her throat, darts a glance around, rolls her eyes, and huffs out a breath, as she follows it up with the next two lines. “Pay with heart or pay with cunt. Both come with the highest chance of trickery,” she mutters like she can’t believe she picked that burner riddle.
