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“Yeah. Yeah.”
She continues to lead us through a few streets until we hit the main road. It’s noisy and loud, full of bars and people – lots of men. I glance back the way we came and notice two men a few hundred yards behind us, but shake off the unease and carry on. We’re in the middle of the city after all. But as we continue along the road, silhouetted images of women dancing begin decorating the side of buildings next to the bars. We pass one, and then another.
“Naja?” Miri doesn’t have to voice her question.
“Keep walking.” She threads her arm through mine, and we pick up the pace. This time she’s the one to glance back.
“They were at the bar,” she whispers to me.
“What?” I refuse to look back but focus on all the people out and about. We might be uncomfortable, but we’re in a crowded place. We’re fine.
We make it past the sex clubs and discos, the drunken men spilling out of the bars, and avoid eye contact with anyone. Finally, I see the main junction ahead and the road opening up.
“How far’s the hotel?” I ask.
“Ten minutes.”
At the end of the road, I glance back and stop to scan the street for the two men I was sure were following us. They aren’t there, and the weight of apprehension lifts.
We turn the corner and walk straight into a wall of muscle.
Hands clench around my arms, and I look frantically across to Miri. Another man has cornered us from behind, grabbing her. We both struggle, but a hard prod at the base of my spine freezes every instinct to fight in my body.
“Shhh,” a third man whispers in my ear, sending a jolt of fear straight to my stomach.
The men walk us up the steps of the next building, through a door and into a room. We’re shoved inside, and I wrap Miri in my arms as she buries her head in my neck, hiding her tears. The three men follow us in.
My eyes search the room. Wooden slats board the front window. The only light is a bare bulb attached to an ugly lamp, making the room look as much of a prison as I fear it might be. There’s an old, dirty mattress in the far corner that turns my stomach, and I hold Miri to me tighter.
The man who had the gun approaches us, and I step back until I’m met with nothing but a wall. He smiles at me, and I hold my nerve. His breath smells of stale beer and fish.
He yanks at my purse.
“No!” I pull it back towards me, but he springs a knife, cutting the strap until it slides from my grip. Miri is behind me, and he looks expectantly towards the bag across her body.
Defiance courses through me, warring with the fear I feel in my bones, but I’ll be damned if I make any part of this easy on them.
He raises the knife and points it at my throat.
“Here.” Miri throws her bag across the room, and he lowers the knife. Our phones, money and passports are in those purses. I kick myself at how stupid I was, insisting we carry them with us as it would be safer than leaving them in the old safe at the hotel.
None of the men have said a word, and after they’ve retrieved our bags, they leave the room, slamming the door behind them. I race at it, pulling at the handle and rattling it furiously, but it’s locked.
“Help!” I scream, banging on the wood with my hands – pounding on it until I’m sure someone must hear. Nobody comes. Next, I try the window and claw at the edges of the wood nailed across, but it doesn’t budge an inch.
“Miri, help me.” If we can pull the wood off, we can break the window and get out. “Miri?” I turn around and find her huddled in the corner, her arms wrapped around her knees.
“Hey, hey, hey.” I go to her and slide down the wall, pulling her against me to offer her the only comfort I can. “We’re going to get out of here. It’s okay.” It’s a lie, but that’s what my job is right now. To look after my little sister and keep her safe. That starts with reassuring her.
But she doesn’t answer me.
Because she knows it’s a lie. How are we going to be okay?
* * *
The next few days blend together as we’re moved to God knows where. The men haven’t touched us. Yet. Or rather, they’ve only shoved, threatened, and manhandled us. I don’t want to think about how long that’s going to last. The gun and the knife that the leader carries are enough of a threat that I don’t cause trouble.
Miri’s barely said two words to me. Her eyes are red and sore from crying, her lips cracked and dry. She looks broken, but she gives me strength. She gives me the strength to keep my eyes sharp and my mouth shut.
