The guy I’m starting to call my bane of existence, or Bane for short, drags me out of the container roughly. I close my eyes shut as soon as we come outside, the sunlight harsh after spending so much time unconscious and then under dull light. Given my eyes are more sensitive than an average human’s, it takes a while for me to see properly through the tears.
I’m in some sort of a compound. There are shipping containers all around along with a large, posh wooden ranch house to the side. The fear I feel is cold and unforgiving as I realize that these containers must contain girls like me.
Or maybe boys. Older men and women.
Who knows, they might be trading in more than just s*x work. I didn’t know what categories were there in the human trafficking business, and with all my heart I wish t
