The man pulls me down onto his lap, murmuring in my ear, ‘Oh beautiful, beautiful … have you ever seen anything so beautiful?’ He announces to the room, ‘Finders keepers … and I must have. I will pay whatever the price.’

The other men make strange sounds like dark animals grunting in the fields as they circle around Sammy. I wonder was it true when she said, ‘Maybe you’ll enjoy it’.

The man’s hand has crept further up my thigh and his fingers are opening me up. I have left my body and am watching from a distance. He stands, takes my hand and leads me out of the room. I’m surprised my legs have not given way beneath me; they do not feel as if they are made of muscle and bone. There are noises of approval from behind me. I hope Sammy will not have to make the other men utter those sounds.

There is a way of blurring what is in front of you. I allow myself to see only the outline of things: the bed is big and I am small, the man is heavy and old and smells of soap and alcohol. He asks many questions but does not wait to hear my answers. He undresses me slowly, pulling off his own clothes in haste. I feel hair on my skin and his breath on my face. I tear and burn as he breaks me open, invading my body as he leaves his. He is trying to climb deep inside me, filling all my spaces with his everything. I hold my breath for as long as it lasts, feeling as if I’m under water. If I don’t breathe I’m not really there, not really. The man does not look at me.

After, when the man lies panting on the bed beside me, he looks down and cries out, ‘Why didn’t you say?’

Say what? I look down at my body, and see that my legs are covered in red. Magda told me it would be so. This is what he wanted. Why is he lying, again lying? Maybe he needs to believe his own lies, telling himself, ‘I am not that kind of a man’, maybe he is asking for my forgiveness, maybe he’s feeling guilty after all. I wonder if he has children. I don’t want this man seeing this part of me, I don’t want this man anywhere near me – blood rushes to my face, belonging only to me. I feel myself flow back down inside myself, although I am altered – my body has taken on a different shape and form and I am not sure I will ever live in it fully again.

His face closes as he gets out of bed and dresses himself. ‘Thank you, dear. You will be paid richly.’

Perhaps it is this thought that allowed him do this – except, I will not be paid at all.