Call Me a Rose
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Chapter 1

Nabila Fitri Ramadhani. He is usually called Fitri. The meaning of his name is sacred. But his actions are far from the meaning of his name. Because he is no longer holy. Her job is a night woman. People call it the night butterfly.

That afternoon Fitri was getting ready. Shower under a very fresh shower. Wash every inch and fold of his body as clean as possible. Then rub the soap with abundant foam that fragrant exudes throughout the room. Then wash his face with a special soap face, then brush his teeth. And do not forget to gargle with special fluids so that the breath is always fresh. The ritual was always performed for no less than thirty minutes. In order to maintain the cleanliness of the body that he will rent. To make the buyer satisfied and not disappointed. Although Fitri knew, it could never clean up her rotting self inside.

Fitri came out of the bathroom with a towel on her body. Then walk in front of a large mirror attached to his closet. His ayu face, smooth yellow skin, as well as his synthetic body. Her body was perfect as a woman. If only he wasn't a cheap pe la. And Fitri realized, no matter how beautiful the physical in just a piece of trash. Trash of a troubled society.

But he certainly doesn't care what people say. There is no family. There was no good name that he had to take care of. He lives a kara. Then there was the sound of the Adhan from the mosque in front of the alley.

Fitri who had wudhu then put on his clothes and took his face. Well, despite his illegal work but Fitri still remember to carry out his obligations as a Muslim. The custom instilled by his parents from childhood to fulfill the obligation to the Creator. The manifestation of our gratitude for having been given life and sustenance. Fitri did not care even though the people who saw him would only say hypocritical. Prayer is his business with the creator. It has nothing to do with human judgment. Because that's all that's left of his life. Why is he struggling to live in the world? Without family and no longer expecting human love. Because no one will look at him.

When the sun began to sink and the day became dark, then he stepped foot to get out. His working hours are reversed. When normal people with respectable jobs had come home to rest, he had just stepped out of the house. Not much is expected, just customers who are willing to treat it more humanely, then pay it properly. Only that, because she was just a despicable woman. His body is nothing but merchandise, which is free in bargain, then worn, then abandoned, and so on.

And from the results of his efforts he will get some money sheets. Maybe he will use it to eat, then pay rent for a room, then for a little care to keep his assets, then buy some clothes, and I don't know what else. Fitri hopes there is little left. What he can collect little by little, then can be the capital to get out of the night world. It is possible to apply for halal jobs or to just sell. But, ah come on. It's called illegal money. Sometimes it looks a lot but then it just disappears, yawns somewhere. Fitri began to fall. If his fate should be so.

Lord, it is You who forbid. But why did You allow the wicked to plunge me into this haram road?

Often the question comes to the mind of Fitri. Then, put it on its own. No, he can't think that. His parents taught him not to be prejudiced by the creator. So he is just living his life, trying and praying. Because, what else can he do?