Diane's POV:
Ever since she got separated from Eliana, everything changed. She learned to live on her own, Learned to protect herself.
Learned to swallow fear before it swallowed her.
I need to survive.
She needs to survive for her sister, for her late mother. But how?
The name "Diane" became a number written in black marker on a thin metal tag around her neck. The room smelled of sweat, rust, and hopelessness. Girls lined the concrete wall. some crying, some silent, some already empty.
The first night, she had screamed for Eliana until her throat became dry. But now,she saves her strength. She was saving it for the day her sister would come for her. Diane knew Eliana to be someone who doesn't break promises, she'll do everything to keep to it.
"She'll come for me… she'll come for me soon," she whispered to herself, over and over again, reassuring herself to keep living.
She looked around the warehouse again.
Steel bars, Floodlights and Chains.
They called it a "processing center."
But it was a trafficking ring disguised as a labor recruitment agency where trucks came at down and left at night conveying girls.
Some girls were sent to private buyers, some shipped across borders and some were taken to what the guards called "the fields."
Diane has been taken to the field countless times. It was a forrced labor camp hidden behind legitimate businesses like farms, factories, construction sites.
There you Work until you collapse, Eat barely enough to stand, Speak only when ordered.
She had been here for a month, a whole month of learning that pain had different levels.
One evening, a man in a stained suit walked down the line of girls. He lifted their chins, inspecting their teeth and wrists like they were livestock.
When he stopped in front of her, his fingers gripped her jaw.
"this one is a Strong one," he muttered.
Diane kept her eyes down.
Later that night, a girl beside her was trembling in fear and Diane whispered to her "If they send you to the fields, don't fall. They beat the ones who fall."
The young girl turned slightly facing diane
"What happens to the ones who fight?" she asked quietly.
Diane hesitated noticing her fear, but she had to tell her to protect her.
"They disappear, get killed and their body thrown into the abyss of the sea"
The girl closed her eyes, thanking Diane for the information before sleeping.
The next morning, their chains were unlocked. "Move."
Ten girls were separated, Diane among them. They were shoved into the back of a truck, metal walls, no windows, just darkness and engine fumes. Thee door slammed shut.
As the truck moved, the same girl began sobbing uncontrollably.
Diane reached for her hand in the dark.
"Don't cry," she whispered.
"Why?" the girl choked.
"Because like I told you last night, they listen for weakness."
The truck drove for hours and when it finally stopped, the doors were swung open and sunlight shined into their eyes.
Men with rifles stood watch from towers.
Barbed wire stretched along the perimeter.
This was no farm. It was a prison built under open sky, a labor camp hidden behind a legitimate export company.
The girls were handed tools, given numbers and assigned different rows.
"Work," a guard barked.
The heat was merciless, the soil very hard to till. They worked endlessly for hours and by midday one of the girls collapsed.
The weak body was immediately whipped hard with a baton by one of the guards. Diane's hands tightened around her tool.
Rage rose inside her chest violently but she has to control it.
Diane continued working, wiping sweats from her brow, her hands blistered, her body screaming to rest, but she couldn't stop. Every movement, every drop of blood and sweat, was survival.
As she hauled another basket of grain to the far end of the field, her eyes caught something unusual. One of the men supervising the work, he was a lanky guard with a sharp scar along his cheek. She overheard him whispering into a small, black radio. The words were faint, but certain phrases stood out: "shipment secured", "move through the southern route", "Virelli's shipment".
She clenched her fists around the basket, forcing her muscles to keep moving, forcing her mind to stay quiet. She didn't know why her mind had convinced her to but she took note of the name she had heard "virelli's shipment".
Later at night back in the barracks, she lay on a thin mat staring at the cracked ceiling.
Her body ached, her throats dry from thirst. They hadn't been given enough water but have been made to work tirelessly under the scorching sun.
Somewhere in this world, Eliana is still alive. She thought to herself. A part of her heart could still feel her sister, like their bond was never broken and she doesn't even know how.
Diane's fingers curled into fists against the thin mattress.
"They think we're broken, sister," she whispered into the darkness. "But I can still feel you."