Arms grabbed at my legs in the middle of the night. I screamed and thrashed at the arms and legs. The arms and legs carry me into a van and throw bags at me. The silence of the night is broken with the van driving off. My consciousness slips away and I fall asleep again only to wake up in a cold house. I see my bags and clutch it to my chest and burrow my face into the bag. I look around and see girls, girls my age lying awake in the most skimpy and revealing tops and underwear. I see a door in the distance and it opens, a red room being opened up. I realized I wasn't in my sweatpants and my shirt. I was in the same clothing as the girls in this room. I see two girls walking my way and I grip the railing. The women force me to stand up and go to the red room. 

I walk slowly and then when I reach the room, the door shuts and locks keeping me in. I take in the surroundings and the realization sinks into my heart. I'm in a sex house. A door on the other end opens and a man walks in. He strips off all his clothing. I stay in the corner and let my sobs comfort me. The guy grabs my legs and drags me into the hazy red light, and onto a bed, tying my hands against the bed. I tried my hardest to fight him but failed. He turns a camera on and faces it to my naked body. He holds a toy to my pussy and presses the record button on the camera.

I wake up in a stiff bed, the cold sunlight streaming in through the room. The ping lights turn on. I tell my roommates to get up and get ready. I had to treat my scars first, so I changed out of my pajamas and into loose brown shorts and my loose white cardigan. I walk through the dingy hallway and my feet press against the endless beige carpet. I sit down and wait. The nurses call me in and make me sit on the blue examination table and examine my fresh scars. They said I needed stitches. Sometimes I don't know what the fuck I'm doing with my life. I let them make me lie down and pump anesthesia into my system. 

The stitches feel weird. It feels weird on a human body. It should belong on a ragdoll, cause they're always falling apart into pieces. I put my shorts on and leave for breakfast. Breakfast was mushy waffles with unnecessary crunchy parts and chunky strawberry jam. On the side, a bowl of fruits that taste like soil. Later, I hurl up the meal into the toilet. I wipe my face and crawl into bed. I pull my journal out and tell my journal's world all about my world. I tell my journal, the human world is cruel to a seventeen year old girl. I hope the journal understands my pain. I hug the journal and hide it under my pillow. I look out the hazy window and into the bustling city of London and wonder if I'll ever go out there in the hazy air. 

For the first time in seven years, I got to breathe the smoky air. I had my bags with me. It was a new beginning. I begin to look around, and I see the winding road out the city to the sex house. A place I never wanted to go to again. I walked into the bustle of London, vendors selling magnets, food stands selling hot dogs with onions, and warm churros filled with nutella the size of my arm. It was chaotic but it was home. 

I stand in front of a hot dog vendor and with a penny, I buy my comfort food. The joy of eating my comfort food after running on mushy, cold food felt like heaven, the ecstasy peeking in my body. I'm jolted to my surroundings as a horn sounds. I turn around. It's my childhood best friend. He doesn't even hesitate to hug me. His hug felt like a thousand fireflies encircling both of our cold bodies. 

I spent the rest of my night with him.