The man coming toward me whistles to someone and suddenly there are three men falling into step, one of them blocking the bridge on the other side of the roof, trapping me.

The night suddenly feels like it wants to swallow me whole. I swipe my knife widely, trying to cut a clear space between us.

I curse myself for not having left the island this afternoon. I should have kept going across the bridge and never looked back.

The men circle me, tighter and tighter, closing in. I flick my eyes around the rooftop, trying to figure out a way off. But there’s nothing. They have the bridges and fire escape covered. I tighten my grip on the knife and plant my feet, bending my knees for balance.

“This one wants to fight,” one of the men says. I can’t keep them all in front of me no matter how hard I try. I spin around but there’s always someone behind me. Then arms close around my chest, pinning my elbows to my sides.

Everything explodes inside me with the need to survive and escape and the terror-fueled realization that I might not be able to.

I twist my wrist, flicking the knife up hard, aiming for his shoulder. He ducks but still I feel the blade nick his skin. He grunts and releases me, pushes me away from him, hooking his foot around my leg so that I stumble.

Before I can regain my balance he’s standing over me and he lashes out, kicking my hip. Pain erupts through me, making me suck in a deep breath as the horrible throbbing stabs reverberate with every beat of my heart. I crumple to my hands and knees, dropping the knife as I splay my hands to break my fall. He grabs my shoulder and flips me onto my back so hard that all the air in the world leaves my body. I buck, trying to inhale, but he places his knee on my chest, crushing me.

This is it, I realize. This is the end of me. This man might choose to kill me or keep me alive but either way, who I am is done. A sadness begins to seep through me, a deep regret for all the time I kept my gaze focused on the ground rather than the sky.

But then an acid burns up the back of my throat, a rage coursing through me. I’m not willing to give up that easily. If I were I’d have died years ago.

Blood trails from the man’s shoulder and I focus on that, watch it darken the sleeve covering his arm and spiral over his wrist. I beat at his leg with my fists, trying to find the tender spot between muscles that will make him stop. Trying to breathe. Spots sparkle around me, bright flashes of light that scream in my head.

“Can we sell her?” I hear one of the other men ask. “Is she worth anything?” He walks toward us, hovers over me.