trying to pry open my eyes, but I’m bathed in darkness, still unable to see a thing. There’s a heavy weight over my face that’s restricting my airway. I flex the muscles in my arms and legs, but they’re bound together with little to no give. Resting my body, I lay motionless on the hard surface inside of a vehicle. The voices get louder, and become clearer, but I can’t make out what’s being said.
Shit. They’re speaking in another language again.
My back aches from the position I’m in on the hard metal surface. The floor beneath me vibrates, and the hum of the engine is faint. I inhale deep breaths, staving off panic so they won’t know I’m awake. The vehicle rolls to a sudden stop and the momentum launches my bound body forward into what feels like a brick wall. A sharp pain slices through my shoulder and I can’t suppress the groan that tumbles from my dry lips.
All at once, there are voices coming from every direction. There’s shouting and thumps of movement. I swivel my head around under the blinding bag trying to see what’s happening around me. I freeze upon hearing the thudding of boots, shifting of feet, doors opening and closing all at once. My breathing is loud and ragged under the thick cloth. The puffs of air from my breath warm the inside of the material, heating my face. There’s a soft click beside me, and my muscles tense as I wait for something to happen—anything. I can’t make out a single thing beneath this damned cloth and I’m relying solely on my hearing.
Without warning I’m hauled roughly into someone’s arms. I scream and wiggle, trying to get free.
I’m not going anywhere without a fight.
The grip tightens around me, halting my attempts to free myself. Boots echo on pavement beneath me, and I can’t help but wonder where we are, and what’s going to happen next. My body aches in pain from the force of the hold around me. The muscles scream in protest.
I’m bathed in unexplainable heat again, and I choke on the lack of air inside the bag over my head.
“They’re expecting you.” A woman says in an undetectable accent.
Suddenly, the stifling air surrounding me gives way to the cool air drafting through my legs. I inhale the clean and fresh air as it breezes through the cloth still securely over my head. There’s loud chatter and something that sounds a lot like the whining of a dog, or a wounded animal.
I’m roughly positioned on my unsteady legs. My feet and arms are suddenly cut free and I take my time stretching my numb limbs. Needlelike sensations stab across my flesh as my blood recirculates, returning to its normal flow. The floor feels cool and smooth underneath my bare, blistered feet. The heavy, suffocating bag is lifted from my head, and I gulp in large breaths of much needed air. I blink furiously, trying to adjust to the light around the foyer of the room I’m standing in. All at once I wish I was back in my four-walled prison, by myself.
There are men and women everywhere, some lightly beaten, while others can barely move; each of them are covered in bruises. My mind can’t seem to comprehend what it’s seeing. Some are crying and whimpering, while most are quiet and look devoid of any emotion. My heart plummets as I stare at the scenes unfolding before me. The room is lavishly decorated in reds and golds, with marble floors, ornate rugs, and frightening statues. Among the lavishly decorated room are groups of people that come from every walk of life. They’re all dressed to the nines, with perfectly tailored suits and long, elegant evening gowns that show off their wealth.
Amongst the elite, there’s an enormous group of girls and boys ranging from the ages of twelve to late twenties. The boys and girls are on all fours and completely naked with chains around their necks and their heads bowed down. They’re treated like pets—animals—being forced to eat on the floor, fed scraps. Most of the young girls and boys look severely beaten with discolored bruises marring their flesh, and severely malnourished; their bones protrude from their thin bodies. It sickens me. Acidic bile rises in my throat, threatening to expel at my feet.
Is this how I look?
My stomach churns violently at the realization of what’s going on around me. I protectively wrap my arms around my midsection, thankful I at least