This basement hole is hell.  There is nowhere to sleep but the cold concrete floor. There is nowhere to urinate but the corner of the room. The little there is to eat is disgusting mush that they bring in a large bowl for us to share.  No utensils.  There are many girls here.  We all take our turn going to the rooms upstairs.  How they choose who goes, I don’t know.  Maybe the men make requests.  When one of us is chosen, they call the girl to the center of the room.  They give her a bar of soap and order that she clean herself while they spray her with a hose.   They spray harder and yell awful nasty words if they aren’t satisfied with her scrubbing.  No one will love us if we aren’t clean.  After the wash, the girl is inspected and brought upstairs. 

Every time I am brought upstairs I am momentarily blinded, my eyes are not used to the light.  The horrid light! It used to give me hope; hope of freedom, of a normal life. Now it does nothing but foreshadow the horrors awaiting me upstairs.  They bring me to a room where there are clothes for me to change into.  I am reminded if I don’t obey, I will regret it.  Before long a man comes.  Some tell me what they want; others attack me. Some are violent and angry; others are gentle.  In the end it’s all the same, the violation, the pain, the regret, the self-loathing, but most of all, the knowledge that I am trapped in this perpetual cycle between two hells.  I wish I were dead.