Lorena always loved the winters in New York, she had lived in Oslo, Norway, till she was 12 and she moved to america with her Aunt and uncle, and their three kids. Lorena’s parents had died, giving her maternal aunt full custody. Her uncle was originally from New York, being in the army while he met her. When they moved to New York they lived off the base so Lorena could go to a performing arts school, she had a talent for music, but didn’t know how to read music or play instruments.
She didn’t love them anymore, Winters were too cold when she had to wear skimpy dresses because she took the wrong way home one day and ended up in the back of a van. She lost her virtue that night and had done unspeakable things since, but every time she thought about what she does, she’d think at least i’m not pregnant. It wasn't much, but it helped her not feel too bad about what is happening.
Lorena knew it was the beginning of winter, the snow was just falling after weeks of below freezing temperatures in November. But still, she stood in the parking garage of a high end hotel, too expensive to think about, she had to be escorted in through the back to avoid being seen. Lorena kept her head down and gripped the cool fake gold chain of her small purse. Her naturally blonde hair was down in her natural waves, blocking her face. She wore a cheep black body con dress covered in sequins, she looked and felt trashy.
The man inside the room wasn’t one if her regulars, he was tall, had a mustache and wore glasses and a nice suit. As Lorena walked in, he stayed sitting on a chair, he loosened his tie as a menacing look creeped over his face. Lorena unconsciously back against the wall, her back hitting with a thump before she realized what she was doing.
“Who do I pay?” He asked, his New-Yorker accent thick. He tossed a wad of bills at Lorena, she caught them.
“Jackson.” Lorena spoke, her Norwegian accent came out when she was in any stressful situation.
“Not from here, are you, pretty little thing?” He asked, standing up, Lorena shook her head. “Where’s Jackson?” The man asked.
“The van, waiting for me.” Lorena whispered, the mans posture changed and he grabbed a walkie talkie.
“Van in the parking garage, check them all.” Another person walked in through the door to the adjoining suite, she had brown hair and had on a bullet proof vest.
“Hi, I’m Lieutenant Olivia Benson, what’s your name?” Lorena set the money on a table before she sat in a chair.
“Lorena Brevik.” She let her accent come out, her handler didn’t like it, and neither did the men, they didn’t like accents unless it was from a Spanish speaking country.
“Come with me Lorena, we need to go to the station.” Lorena stood up, her knees shaking, the male detective put a jacket over her shoulders before the three of them walked out of the hotel room, passing some police officers and going down the elevators.