We roam the streets of Amsterdam looking to sell our bodies.Hell, we'd sell our souls if we could, but those don't belong to us anymore.They belong to the man who decided that we belong to him.It's his house, his rules-our bodies.Four of us aren't what we seem.We look for ways to leave this place, for ways to be free.But all freedom comes with a price, and some prices are far too high to pay.Even for us.
Someone once said that if you talk about the devil, he's bound to appear.Most would keep silent, hoping that they'd never be found by such a monster, but I prayed for his touch every night.I knew the devil when I was a child and fell in love with him the first time he taught me that I wasn't as damaged as I was led to believe that I was.He cared for me, helped me learn how to smile, and see the world in a different way even though he didn't realize that he had done so.But they feared him; hated him.So seventeen years ago, they ripped him away from me.What they didn't know was that he had already created a monster in his very image.I thought I'd never see him again-I finally resigned myself to that. But then he came back, just like he promised he always would through that smile of his.We're together again.
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