Ficly

Almost Home

She fell in the field, a mere mile from her home. She stared at the old homestead, reaching for it as if willing it to come to her. She was just too tired and collapsed. She closed her eyes. Better to die in the sweet-smelling grass next to her childhood home than in a bed with a venereal disease from a sweaty old man. She drifted into a half slumber.
Her uncle hadn’t really known what the man wanted with her, but she wasn’t sure it would have deterred him from selling her even if he had. Money was money. Immediately upon completion of the sale, she was thrown into a van with other girls. They were taken to the port and shipped all over the world. Each ended up with a different master, but the trade was all the same.
Over many years, her body was violated and she received little pay. But she never gave up hope that she would one day escape. After ten years, her opportunity finally came. She ran. Men chased her, but she somehow eluded them all. And here Christina laid, almost home.

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