Part I - Captured
I don’t remember my name. I don’t remember the sound of my mother calling to me for super. I have forgotten how to speak, for I was slapped down when I did. I know the bed in which I sleep, layered with semen and dirt and tears. I know the smell of the fisherman’s breath as they abuse me. I know that I haven’t seen the light of day in three years.
And now, I finally have my chance to escape.