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“Rain on me. Rain on me.”

“Wake up!”

“Wake up!”

Someone was twisting the hair off her head.

“I said, wake up!”

Jenny opened her eyes and looked up at a man who looked scared. He turned away from her. “I told you she was alive.”

He was still holding her braid in his fist.

“Hurry and take the picture,” he yelled.

The flash of light shot through her eyes, into her brain, and Jenny screamed. If the tiny moan she heard could be considered a scream. She hurt. She hurt so bad.

“She’s going to die, and we’re not going to be paid. I should kill you now.”

“She’s fine.”

She was pulled up higher; now she was on her knees. “See, she’s almost standing.”

Through her haze Jenny could make out some of the Bangla language, not much, but enough. Thank God she’d taken her job seriously and did her best to learn the language. But dammit, not enough!

Shut up! At least they want me alive!

Jenny started coughing, and all hope of understanding what they were saying was whisked away as she did her best to hold in the worst of it so that she wouldn’t literally break a rib. But she was sure she already had.

When she could breathe again, she felt two men on either side of her. They both reached under one of her armpits and lifted her up.

Jenny cried out in agonizing pain as fire ripped up her left side.

Ribs punctured lungs, right?

How?

They were dragging her out of the shack and for the first time in what felt like years she was outside. It was monsoon season and there was mud and rain, but she was outside. She moaned with pleasure. The cold water felt so good on her fevered skin, she never wanted to go indoors again. Then she started to shiver. As soon as she had that thought, she was thrust through the door of what looked like some kind of mobile home or trailer.

Jenny landed face first on damp carpet.

“Hey!”

“What are you doing?”

They were two unfamiliar voices.

“You’re the brains of this outfit. You think you know everything about how to get us money? Well, Rakib wants you to keep her alive so that we get our money. Good luck with that.”

Jenny heard the door shut behind her, then there was dead quiet, until she started to cough.

“What’s wrong with her?” the voice asked. He sounded young.

“How should I know?” somebody else answered.

“We need her alive.” The young voice spoke again.

“I know that!” Despite the yelling, the older man was gently rolling Jenny over. “Can you talk?” he asked her in English.