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I am dropped to the floor with no dignity at all.
I blink and fight the panic. It is late at night; we are in what looks like a harbor. Shipping containers tower around us.
“Get up.”
I can’t move. My entire body is shaking.
“Get up.” A heavy work boot slams into my stomach and all of the air is shoved out of my lungs as pain sears through me.
Someone grabs my hair and pulls me roughly to my feet and I stagger, trying to catch my breath. Then a fist connects with my jaw, hitting the exact same spot where I was punched in the van. I taste blood in my mouth. When I swallow, the vile flavor of iron fills my throat.
I gasp and choke.
A fist knots in my hair and I am being dragged somewhere. I hear metal grinding as heavy doors are swung open. They toss me into the pitch-dark container.
I slam against the floor and scramble to try and get away from the men. My body brushes up against other bodies and I hear the sound of girls crying out.
I stand, unsteady and terrified. I have to get out. I turn and run towards the still open door and a fist connects with my ribs. Again, I can’t breathe.
“Feisty little bitch, isn’t she?” Someone shoves me hard and I fall to the ground again.
A girl pulls my arms and whispers, “Stop fighting. They will kill you.”
“That’s the last one.”
“I’ll tell Golubev we’re ready.”
Someone shines a bright torch into the darkness. I blink in horror at the vision before my eyes. The container is filled with women. Dirty, bleeding, bruised, shocked, and silent faces stare into the blinding light of the torch.
Reason leaves my body and I leap up again. I cannot be here. I run towards the doors and fingers wrap around my throat, lifting me into the air. A hand knots in my top and I hear fabric tearing as it is torn from my body. I kick wildly, screaming my lungs out. The silver blade of a knife catches the light of the torch. I feel the blade run across my thigh as I continue to kick. Warm blood oozes over my leg.
Then the blade is pushing against my stomach and the fingers around my throat tighten.
“Do you want to die, bitch?”
I feel the edge of the knife ease into the skin across my belly, and warm blood runs down past my navel. I freeze, my body hanging deadly still in his grip. I don’t even feel the pain of it.
The man laughs cruel and sinister. “I can keep pushing if you’d like?”
He tosses me back into the container.
The doors swing shut, and pitch darkness covers me.
***
Over the course of the next few days, the men keep coming back. One by one, they pull the girls out and take them away. We scream, kick, and fight, but every time we are met with violence and brutality.
When one girl manages to pull free of the man holding her and runs, a loud pop screams through the air and her head snaps back in an explosion of red gore. She falls lifeless to the ground and the man slides his gun back into the holster on his belt.
“For fuck sake, man, you just cost us a lot of money,” another man complains. “We have to go find a replacement.”
“I didn’t feel like running after her.”
“Well, now you’ve got to go hunt for a new one, so you just wasted your own time.”
Sometimes, they walk into the container and just randomly kick one of us. The girls all scramble and fight and claw at each other to try and be at the back of the container.
Days turn to nights, and I cannot tell how long I have been locked in here. I have never experienced hunger like this or the thirst that is barely quenched by the dirty water they toss into the container once a day. The last girl was taken away this morning and now I am the only one left, pressed against the back of this metal prison, waiting to die. I wonder if it is death that I want. I think death would be better than the things the girls were whispering about in the dark.
