The diminutive figure of the girl, though burdened with the weight of potential, seemed to lack the immediate utility that could attract potential buyers.
Her slender frame appeared too delicate for strenuous chores, and her tender age precluded the possibility of selling her to the lucrative markets of a brothel.
In this disheartening reality, she found herself caught in the merciless grip of the trafficker's hands, unwanted and overlooked by those who could have made a difference.
The absence of outstretched hands or compassionate glances compounded the isolation that clung to her like a shadow.
"What are you crying for? Didn't I tell you not to make a fuss when I am doing business...useless piece of shit who can't even bring some profit." The trafficker was angered by the little girl's wailing. Her piercing shrieks were annoying and useless in his ears.
