She didn't know her birthday date, but the Madam at the Sovereign Saloon made her celebrate her fourteenth at the end of January.
It was a quiet time, the Madam figured, and a pretty little virgin would fetch a high price and drag in custom from outlying districts. In truth, the fact she wasn't a virgin didn't matter; the price was haggled and no one gave a shit about the screams or the sobbing.
Her men outside the door, the Madam relished watching everything, giving Lucy five dollars next morning.
Next weekend, she promised, it'll be twenty.
It never was.