The second night in the cage was worse than the first. Iseria hadn’t slept. Her brother had cried himself to sleep, and now he was just quiet — too quiet. Then, late in the afternoon, a black car pulled up. It wasn’t like the military trucks. This one w

The second night in the cage was worse than the first. Iseria hadn’t slept. Her brother had cried himself to sleep, and now he was just quiet — too quiet. They’d been taken from their home, ripped from the safety of their lives, and thrown into this grim reality. The weight of it settled heavily on her chest, tightening with every passing moment. As late afternoon waned, a black car pulled up, a sleek, shiny contrast to the dirt and chaos surrounding their makeshift prison. It wasn’t like the military trucks that came and went, their engines rumbling like distant thunder. This car glimmered under the fading sun, immaculate and polished, and the man who stepped out seemed to embody that same pristine quality. He wore an expensive suit, and his sunglasses shielded his eyes, making him an enigma — an unsettling one in a war zone. The guards, usually slouched and careless, stood straighter at his approach, their laughter dying in their throats. Iseria’s stomach twisted as one of them stepped forward, unlocking the cage with a jangling of keys, his face split into a grin that was more menacing than welcoming. “Get up, girl,” he ordered, yanking her to her feet. Iseria stumbled as she was pulled from the cage, the hard ground scraping her knees, but she barely had time to react before the men’s laughter enveloped her like a dark cloud. They were drunk, their taunts ringing in her ears, each word heavy with malice. “Look at this little doll,” taunted one. “She’s too pretty to be stuck in a filthy cage.” “No need to be all distraught, Iseria,” another chimed in, eyes glinting with amusement. “We’re going to make you presentable.” Without a hint of empathy, they stripped her of her soiled clothes, indifference etched into their faces as if they were undressing a mere mannequin. The cold air bit against her skin, further fuelling the panic rising within her. As they sprayed her with a hose, the icy water mingled with their laughter, washing over her in humiliating torrents. She gasped, her breath hitching as they made a game of it, splashing and shoving her back and forth, reveling in their domination. When they finally tossed a dress at her — wrinkled, cheap fabric that contrasted starkly with her childhood memories of birthdays and laughter — it felt like another layer of their control pressing down against her. “Here you go,” one of the guards said, smirking, his voice laced with pride. “You get to impress our boss. He wants to help you become a woman.” Their laughter filled the air as they shoved her forward, the door to their inner sanctum swinging open. Iseria swallowed hard, forcing down the terrified bile rising in her throat. As she stepped inside, her eyes fell on the man in the expensive suit, who smiled lazily, his gaze appraising her like she was an exhibit in a museum. He beckoned her closer. “Ah, I hear it’s your 13th birthday,” he said, his voice smooth, almost silky. “How fortunate. I have some delightful plans for you tonight.” He laughed, a chilling sound that echoed in her ears. “Why don’t you strip for me once more? Let’s celebrate, shall we?” Even now, when every instinct screamed for her to flee, when her brother lingered in her thoughts like a fragile ember of hope, Iseria felt the insidious tightening of fear wrap around her. She wouldn’t let them break her. She would find a way out of this nightmare. Two days. She couldn’t wait two days to escape. Whatever they wanted from her, whatever this man planned, it wasn’t good. It could never be good. She stole a glance back at the cage, her brother’s frightened eyes pulling her thoughts back to the only thing that mattered — keeping him safe.