Episode 2

Ottawa, Canada.

I left home furious with my mother for having fought with my father and thrown him out. My father has always been a good man, and she has always been very hotheaded. While he is the calmness, she is the storm.

But nothing justifies throwing him out. I told her I would go live with him because no one can stand her. She locked me in my room and said I wouldn’t leave the house. I jumped out the window, and now I’m walking the streets without a dollar in my pocket, since she handles all the household money.

I don’t know where my father is living, but I know where he works. The problem is walking all the way to his job. By my calculations, it’s going to take about two hours or more to get there.

I stop in an alley and know that I will cut a nice path if I go this way. The problem is that everyone talks badly about this place; they say there’s a bag man who takes girls to sell their organs.

The police have been called several times, but they always leave without finding anything. I look ahead, where I have the choice of making a huge detour or going through the alley and getting back to the main road.

I cross myself three times and enter, praying that nothing bad happens to me. When I see the end of the alley, where I can already see the cars speeding by, I smile with relief and run to get out of this dreadful place quickly. But as soon as I reach the end, I feel a blow to my face and lose consciousness at once.

(...)

I open my eyes and find myself on a cold bed. I look to the side and realize it’s the same bed used in morgues.

Female Trafficker: — She’s awake; I think it’s better to put her to work in the brothel. Her blood type doesn’t match any of our clients.

Male Trafficker: — But we’ll receive much less. Alive, she won’t bring us much money.

Female Trafficker: — Then we can rent her out; that way, we’ll have money every month.

I listen to their conversation without understanding much, but it seems that he wants my organs, but she wants to sell me. But to whom?

— Please, let me go; I swear I won’t tell anyone. — They look at me and start laughing.

Male Trafficker: — I think you’re right; it’s better to sell her soon. Call Nora and negotiate with her. Tell her she’s a fifteen-year-old, virgin, and has an innocent face, so she’ll pay much more.

I start to cry and squirm. I should have believed that alley wasn’t safe. Now I’m about to be sold like merchandise. The guy approaches me and gives me an injection in my neck, which makes me black out again.

(...)

I wake up, and now I’m in a white room, with mold-filled walls and a clothesline stretched out full of panties. I sit up with a terrible headache, and as I run my hand through my hair, I feel a bump on my forehead.

The door opens, and about ten women walk in, all appearing to be in their twenties or older. All wearing prostitute attire, and that’s when I realize the truth. I’ve been kidnapped to be a prostitute.

One of the girls looks at me, comes closer, sits on my bed, and touches my bump. I recoil in fear, but she asks me to stay calm.

Megan: — They took me the same way five years ago.

— You’ve been trapped here for five years? — She nods in agreement. — How old are you now? And what’s your name?

Megan: — My name is Megan, but here it’s Jennifer. I’m twenty-one. I came here when I was sixteen. I was trained until I turned eighteen, then I was sold at auction for being a virgin, but afterward, my ex-owner returned me here. Here we work to pay our owners and buy things for ourselves; we just can’t leave without their permission.

It seems like I’m trapped in a horror movie, but I look at all the girls around me, realizing that this is all too real.

Megan: — Don’t be scared. At first, it’s frightening, but with time, you get used to it. Sometimes we get some really good-looking men, but other times not so much.

I lower my head and start to cry; she hugs me, and I can smell her scent. A mix of perfumes with a strange stench. The door bursts open, and a woman with bright red hair approaches us. She hands a dollar bill to the woman beside me and looks at me.

Nora: — You will be trained for the auction. First, you will stay here with the girls who will teach you everything. On your 18th birthday, you will have to learn to be a good slave to please your owner. We will also take some pictures to put on the website to attract buyers.

— Why are you doing this? I haven't harmed anyone, and I don't want to stay here.

Nora: — I hope you understood everything I've said, as I will not repeat myself. — She says, ignoring my words, and turns her back to leave.

Megan: — It's better not to respond to her; she's the witch around here, and I've seen her hit several girls who disobeyed her.

— Where are we? — I pray that we are still in Canada, but the answer discourages me.

Megan: — We're in Russia, Moscow to be more exact.

I close my eyes, and a tear rolls down my face, the chances of my parents finding me here are almost nil. She gets up and walks to her bed, tucking the money into her bag. The girls line up to take a shower since the room is small and there's only one bathroom. I scan every inch, seeing the bunk beds. Then I spot a window with bars, allowing the moonlight to filter through.

I rise and approach it, feeling the night breeze touch my face. I let the tears fall in regret. Are my mom and dad looking for me? Will the police find me here? I lean my arms on the window ledge, lower my head, and begin to cry, already imagining my fate from here on out.

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