It was so quiet in the van. By the time the doors opened again I had started to convince myself that the woman was right and that we would die in the stifling heat.
I was leaning against the doors when they opened and almost fell onto the tarmac, but instead was dragged into the cool night air. There was a new man standing by an abandoned warehouse. As I was dragged towards him I felt a disquieting feeling in my stomach.

Coming up close he took my face in his hands.
“Zis one is pretty.” His Russian accent immediately sent warnings to my brain. He saw me shaking and brought his face up to my ear. “Don’t you worry. I vill take good care of you.”
I instinctively pressed my thighs together. His words made my insides cringe. The Russian pulled me close to him as the other women were being escorted limply into the warehouse, their eyes full of fear for me.
“She is mine,” he said, and before the others could protest. “Or they all belong to the police, eh?”