My Illegal Boss (The Girl from Abroad

The moment I stepped out of the international airport, the hot, damp wind hit my face, mixing with the noise of unfamiliar languages and the smell of strange food. I held my small, old suitcase tightly, my palms sweating. My name is Mia, and I came from a small, poor village. I took a high-interest loan, paid a large sum to an overseas employment agency, and left my hometown, dreaming of earning enough money to treat my sick mother and let my younger brother go to school. The agent had promised me a clean, safe factory job, eight hours a day, overtime pay, a comfortable dormitory, and a monthly salary that could change my whole family’s fate. I believed every word. I cried at the train station, saying goodbye to my family, telling them I would come back soon with money. But nothing was true. The person who picked me up was not a kind supervisor, but a fierce, middle-aged man with a scar on his face, named Wang. He looked at me like I was a piece of goods, not a person. His eyes were dirty and aggressive, making me feel uncomfortable from the first second. “Follow me. Don’t talk. Don’t look around,” he ordered coldly. I dared not refuse. I followed him into a shabby, crowded van, which drove for more than two hours, farther and farther away from the city, until we reached a dirty, run-down industrial area surrounded by tall wire fences. There were no clean streets, no bright lights, only messy warehouses, noisy machines, and workers with tired, numb faces. This was not the life I imagined. I was taken to a small, damp room that smelled like mildew. Eight people lived in a space that should have held two. The beds were dirty, the floor was wet, and the toilet was so smelly I could barely stand. When I asked Wang about the working conditions promised by the agent, he just laughed loudly, as if I had told a ridiculous joke. “Promises? Those are just to cheat you poor country girls,” he said, poking my shoulder hard. “From today on, you work here. Twelve hours a day, no rest. If you dare to be lazy, you get no food. If you dare to cry or complain, I will lock you up and let you starve.” My heart turned cold. I realized I was cheated. The next day, my nightmare officially began. I woke up at five in the morning, washed my face with dirty water, and was pushed into the warehouse. The work was tiring and repetitive: carrying heavy boxes, sorting goods nonstop, standing until my legs shook and my back felt like it was breaking. The air was full of dust, making me cough until my throat hurt. Other workers dared not talk to me. They told me quietly that many foreign workers were cheated here, their passports taken away, their money gone, and they could not leave even if they wanted to. Some had been trapped for years. I begged Wang to return my passport. He just slapped the table and shouted at me. “Your passport is with me! If you want it back, pay ten times the agency fee! Can you afford it?” I could not. I had no money. No phone. No way to contact my family. In the following days, I was bullied, yelled at, and even touched by Wang several times. He would come to the warehouse every afternoon, stare at me with disgusting eyes, and touch my arm or my hair when no one was looking. I was scared, but I dared not resist. I was alone in a foreign country, and no one would stand up for me. One night, after work, Wang stopped me in the dark corridor. His face was close to mine, his breath full of alcohol. “You are pretty. Follow me, and I will give you easier work,” he said, reaching out to grab my wrist. I struggled hard, tears falling. “Let me go! Please!” But he was strong, and I was weak from hunger and exhaustion. I felt desperate, like I was falling into a bottomless dark hole. I came abroad to work, to live, to save my family. But now, I was just a trapped bird, waiting to be destroyed. In that moment, I really wanted to die.