The walls shook with muffled sounds , the thuds, the cries, the low, guttural pleasure of the girls working in the house. I pressed the pillow over my ears, my knuckles turning white against the fabric, but it barely helped. Every sound seemed amplified, each echo hammering against my skull. The music from downstairs pounded through the floorboards, bass rattling like a warning drum. I could already hear some of the girls whose rooms were near mine, voices cutting through the din in panicked or ...