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“She won’t last a month,” the driver had said.

The passenger had shrugged. “She doesn’t need to.”

They’d spoken about me while I sat less than a metre away. As though I were dispensable. Just another trade they would profit from.

The plan had been to hand me from one man to another until there was nothing left worth selling. Then someone would put me in the ground, or the sea, or a furnace, and my existence would disappear with the rest of me.

Where my father had been gifted a bullet, they intended to make me beg for one.

The car struck a pothole. My shoulder slammed against the door. Pain tore through my upper arm, but I tamped down on my pain, refusing to make a sound.

The driver leered at me again.

“You okay back there?”

I dropped my head without answering.

He smiled at my reflection. “Enjoy the drive while you can. It won’t be much longer before we reach our final destination.”

I kept my breathing shallow.

My thigh rested by the door handle.

It was an old car. A dark sedan with cracked leather seats and a window that rattled whenever the driver accelerated. There had been no click when they locked the doors. No red light. Nothing to indicate if the door was locked or not.

What are the chances?

Maybe the door was unlocked. Maybe the child lock was not engaged. Maybe I had one chance. Or maybe I would pull the handle, fail, and they would bind my ankles next.

My fingers trembled as I moved them beneath the fold of my coat.

The men continued talking. They mentioned names I didn’t know and spoke of places I had never heard of.

I slid my hand towards the handle. The plastic binding scraped against the door.

The passenger stopped speaking.

I froze.

He turned.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

He stared at me.

I forced myself to meet his eyes. My mouth was dry. My heart struck so violently against my ribs that I could feel each beat in my throat.

He watched me for another second. Then his gaze dropped to my hands.

I moved before he could understand what was happening. I seized the handle and pulled. The door opened. Cold air exploded into the car.

The passenger shouted. The driver swerved. Someone reached between the seats and grabbed for me, but I had already thrown my weight towards the darkness.

The car was moving too fast. The road rushed beneath me. I saw grey asphalt. White gravel. Trees.

Then I jumped.