Fiction (or not): How a young girl in Bihar escaped from being sold into the sex trade

It’s dark when I hear the chain rattle outside. I freeze as the door swings open. Standing there is Ravi Lala. I’m cowering in the corner when he stretches his hand out toward me once again. “Get up” he says. I don’t move a muscle. “Get up,” he repeats more harshly. I put my hand in his and do as I am told. I consider trying to fight, but I am trembling with fear and know I won’t get very far. Ravi Lala is smart and there is nowhere to run.

“There is nothing to be afraid of, Heera,” he says. “We’ll take care of you. Good care of you.”

“I want to go home.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”

I will not show this man my fear, I tell myself.

“Why?”

“Because you are meant for bigger things,” he says, and from the look on his face, behind his henna-dyed beard, he actually believes it. A man walks in bearing what looks to be a bowl of khichdi and a glass of water.

“Eat,” Ravi Lala says. “In 30 minutes, we’ll send someone to take you to the bathroom.”

“I need to go now.”

Ravi Lala looks at the other man, and then nods. “Take her.”

The bathroom is...

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