The next morning, I strode down the hallway from the kitchen, this time carrying my own supplies - water, food, clothes, and a few other necessities - inside a camouflage backpack I'd scrounged up from the cardboard goddess room. The supplies would last me a few days, so if I once again didn't last inside the brothel longer than one of Tessa's patronizing glares, I would be able to draw out my demise into a slow, tortuous ordeal made slightly better with chocolate biscuits. ...