CHAPTER 3
836 Words
After the day of the assembly, every week one or two girls were sold. Armed men in cars came to buy them. One of the girls who cooked and served both the men and the girls in the camp told Lina.
The girl moved quietly, almost blending into the background. She was of average height, slim but not weak, her movements controlled and careful. Her skin was deep brown, smooth but dull from years of exhaustion.
Her hair was tied back into a loose, uneven bun, strands falling slightly around her face. Her eyes were what stood out the most. Dark, tired, but alert. The kind of eyes that had seen too much and learned to survive anyway.
She did not look directly at Lina when she spoke. Instead, she focused on the tray in her hands, arranging plates with steady precision.
“I have been here for five years,” she said quietly.
The words settled heavily.
Five years?
Lina felt something move inside her. That was not survival. That was a lifetime in a place like this.
The girl continued, her tone calm, almost detached.
“People come from far and near. They don’t ask questions. They come with money, and they leave with one or two girls.”
Lina’s fingers tightened slightly at her side, her nails pressing into her palm as she listened.
“They use them for different things,” she added. “Some become house slaves. Some are taken to farms.”
She paused briefly, just enough to make Lina look up.
“Others are used for things you don’t want to imagine.”
Lina’s throat felt dry. She looked away quickly, her chest rising slightly faster than before.
“There is no escape,” the girl continued. “At least, none that leads to freedom. If you try, you die.”
The words were simple, but they carried weight.
Lina swallowed slowly, forcing herself to stay calm.
The girl finally glanced at her, just for a second.
“You’re new,” she said. “You still think you can fight this.”
Lina did not respond.
“Just be careful,” the girl added. “This place punishes hope.”
With that, she walked away, leaving Lina standing there with thoughts that felt heavier than before.
After hearing this, Lina, who had been thinking of how to escape, felt weak, but not completely broken
The idea of escape no longer felt simple. It felt dangerous. Unrealistic.
Still, something inside her refused to let go completely.
She adjusted her behavior. She avoided trouble, followed instructions, and stayed silent.
She watched everything.
She learned.
She waited.
After meals, she often sat alone, her mind working through everything she had seen and heard. The questions never left her.
Why was she here?
Who did this?
One evening, as she sat quietly, her thoughts deep and focused, something flashed
A memory.
It came fast. Clear.
Her home.
On that faithful day she was at home with stepmother, her dad had gone to work in another city as usual.
She was sitting at the dining table, books spread around her. She had been studying all day for her final examinations in college. Her eyes had been tired, her head aching from hours of reading.
She remembered rubbing her eyes, trying to ignore the discomfort so she could continue.
Dinner had been simple. She had eaten quickly, barely paying attention, her focus still on her books.
Then her stepmother walked in.
She looked the same as always. Calm. Kind. Caring.
Her voice was soft when she spoke.
“You’ve been studying all day. You need to rest,” she had said gently.
Lina had smiled faintly, trusting her without hesitation.
Her stepmother had brought her a cup.
Herbal tea.
“It will help you relax,” she said.
"Your headache will go away.”
There had been no reason to doubt her.
She was the nicest person Lina knew.
In fact, Lina had been the one who encouraged her father to marry her. She had trusted her completely, believed in her kindness without question.
She had taken the tea.
Drank it.
She remembered the taste. Slightly bitter, but not unusual.
Then moments later the feeling came— Dizziness.
Her vision blurred slightly. Her body grew heavy.
She had tried to stay awake, but sleep had taken over too quickly, too suddenly.
The memory ended.
Lina’s breathing became uneven as she returned to the present.
Now she knows.
Her chest tightened painfully, her hands clenching as the truth settled in.
Her stepmother had done this.
The person she trusted the most.
The person she believed cared for her.
Her throat burned as emotion rose sharply, but she forced it down, pressing her lips together tightly.
Why?
The question hurts more than the answer.
She could not understand it.
There had been no sign. No warning.
Just kindness.
Fake kindness.
The betrayal cut deeper than anything she had experienced so far.
She had gone to sleep crying…
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