Title: Limbo
by Amy from West Sussex | in writing, fiction
I crawl into bed, my exhaustion drags me down into sleep, but here my many torments are laid bare.
I struggle for breath; the air is so hot as I breathe in my own stale air. The van bumps, accelerates, brakes, turns but I have no idea where I am going. My eyes sting and stream with the sheer effort of trying to make out my surroundings. My ears strain to hear a familiar voice. As I scream I see my Mother's face, why has she done this to me?
I am awakened by the sharp, hard banging on my door. It is a relief to be away from the latest long dark night, but only for the short moment until I realise my nightmares are only a reflection of my waking hours.
Day after day I am forced to labour in my uncle's home, from dawn till I fall exhausted into bed. I am forced to do my uncles bidding. If not he beats me with his stick until I drop to my knees. I am forced to bend to his will, until he can not drag me down any lower. Every day is the same, how long have I lived this way ' is this my life now?
I struggle to hide my despair, to keep some inner pride but the silence is unbearable. I can not speak the language of my uncle and his family. They acknowledge my presence only speak to me, to give me their orders. These words I have learnt with the slap of a rough hand or the lack of a meal. No kind words are used here. As I am awakened with tears streaming down my face I see my mother, she speaks to me in words of kindness and love, why has she sent me away?
I dress in my threadbare clothes, while it is still dark. My exhaustion is overwhelming. It is the dawning of another day, of another year, of terrible servitude. I have no control over my life, no idea of who I truly am.
How old am I? When was I born? Why am I here?
I am in Hell. I am a prisoner. I am in limbo.
Is this my fate?
It is another day but today is different. I can sense danger in my uncle's demeanour. Today, instead of banging on my door and shouting, he has come inside the room. He gives me a new dress and shoes. He speaks instead of shouting. He gestures for me to dress. I do not understand.
He takes me outside. I have never left this house. My fear is so overwhelming, the street is so busy and noisy, that I am paralysed with fear and he pushes me roughly towards a waiting car.
My mind races to understand why today he has taken me to another house. Here there are many other girls, but my isolation is complete, I am with others but can not understand their words.
Money passes hands, my uncle leaves. I sense great fear and danger in this place. The girls are all quiet, dominated and broken. We look at each other with fearful eyes. Their despair, my despair, is clear. No words are needed.
That night I go to bed not having scrubbed, washed, cooked or done whatever my uncle usually bid me to do. But I do not sleep easy, images of my Mother's face come to me. She smiles at me and tells me I am going to live with another family in a far away country. They have money, they will look after me, educate me and I will have a good life. She cries as she waves me off. She would cry even more if she knew where she had sent me.
Again, I am awoken by banging and loud voices but it is still very dark, not yet dawn. Police rush through the rooms, girls are screaming, men are shouting. I am wrapped in a blanket and pulled from my bed. Again, I am bundled into a van, a blanket over my face. The van rushes through the streets. My heart races, this is how my nightmare began.
A lady with the gentlest eyes speaks to me, and I understand. She speaks my language and the long, lonely silence is broken. The life I have been rescued from I can not comprehend. I learn that the horrors of what I was about to be subjected to were beyond my worst nightmares. My uncle had sold me into the sex trade, my degradation, my oppression; my dark despair would have known no bounds.
But maybe today will be a better day.
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