They were like hawks watching their prey, their wrath emitting towards me in waves. The glass reflecting my defeated self with my acceptance of what would come. My shaky palms moist as I brushed them against my jumper.

Ears filling with the wailing sirens they placed in my cell, the torture was nothing in comparison to the conflict inside me.

He entered the room hastily. A slim man; arm littered with tattoos, his jaw set firmly with black kohl lining his eyes, reflecting the perverted person before me. His voice a low growl.

‘Tell me the truth…’

‘I’m a tourist from Sweden.’

Yanking my arm, shaking me fiercely. Struggling against his vicing grip, his hand pressed a glass vial into mine.

‘You made an exchange,’ he said


‘And you didn’t?’ he spat

‘I didn’t PRETEND! You said you loved me…’

He smirked, white polish teeth on show, eyes glaring at me viciously.

‘It was fun to watch you squirm Ella Louise.’

The words on my lips turned to acid. My sinking body ached from the core. Clutching my legs to my chest, trying to regain my exploited self. Breathing didn’t help, my lungs filled with a pneumonic blunt ache desperately drowning me.

My body shaking desperately as screams left my hopeless being, organs wrenching then shriveling. Dragging nails against my chest, wanting to rip away the beating punctured flesh beneath. Truths were coloured lies and his bluff had ruined me.