The screams of Xie Fangfang stabbed at my heart like needles.
It was one of my compatriots, from my very own hometown, being tormented by those scoundrels from northern Myanmar.
Instinctively, I clenched my fists, yearning to rush in and rescue her.
Yet, the last shred of reason held me firmly in place, and I gritted my teeth in silence.
I admit that I'm afraid of death; I even concede that I'm a coward.
But is it so wrong that all I desire is to survive, to one day escape back to my country and see my parents again?
It wasn't just me. Everyone else in the cage remained silent as they listened to Xie Fangfang's screams.
From their eyes, I could perceive the same seething anger within each of them, but ultimately, no one made a move.
"Eat!"
A northern Myanmar thug, replacing the short and fat cook, banged on the food bucket with a ladle. The clanging sound reverberated, as if it were slop being dumped for pigs.
With one of our own suffering such inhumane torture nearby, who could bring themselves to eat this pig - like fodder?
Noticing our hesitation, the thug grinned wickedly, unzipped his pants, and urinated into the bucket. Then, he grabbed handfuls of dirt from the ground and flung them in.
"It's tastier now. Enjoy your meal."
"If you don't eat, I guarantee your fate will be far worse than that woman's in there."
With a menacing glare, he brandished the large ladle at the four of us, while several gun - wielding thugs closed in, their stares dark and threatening.
My heart lurched with fear.
After experiencing their cruelty firsthand since last night, I knew all too well just how vicious they could be.
"You. Start eating."
The thug pointed the ladle at the person to my right, who immediately began to tremble and turned ashen.
After two brutal blows to his head, the man, humiliated and defeated, shuffled towards the bucket, grabbed a handful of the filthy cabbage porridge, and forced it into his mouth with his eyes tightly shut.
"Ugh!"
It was so revolting that he spat it out almost instantaneously.
"You bastard, how dare you waste food!"
The thug cursed in broken Chinese, swinging the ladle down onto his head with such force that it snapped in two.
The man screamed as blood gushed from his head, instantly drenching his face and hair.
But the thug didn't stop there.
He flew into a furious rage, punching and kicking the man until he collapsed. Then, he snatched an electric baton from one of his armed comrades and jabbed it into him repeatedly.
It wasn't until the man convulsed, foaming at the mouth and losing control of his bowels, that the thug finally ceased, muttering curses under his breath.
Watching this from the sidelines sent shivers down my spine; these northern Myanmar scum had exceeded even my darkest imaginings.
To them, we were clearly less than animals.
"Eat!"
The thug, out of breath, lit a cigarette and ordered us to continue, a twisted smirk on his face.
I could tell from his eyes that he was hoping for more resistance, an excuse to unleash his depraved desires once again.
I took a step forward, crouched beside the bucket, grabbed a handful of cabbage porridge, and stuffed it into my mouth.
I knew there was no escaping this "meal" regardless.
If I had to eat it anyway, I might as well get it over with now to avoid a beating - or worse, having to eat someone else's vomit.
This stuff was unbearable.
Even though I had steeled myself, the first mouthful nearly made me gag.
To call it pig food would be an insult to pigs.
But I forced it down, determined to avoid a beating and stay alive. With great willpower, I swallowed the foul porridge.
Seeing this, the other two joined in, shoving handfuls of porridge into their mouths.
After a dozen mouthfuls, I stood up, feigning satisfaction, and forced a pained smile as I managed a thank - you.
The thug laughed gleefully at my gratitude, slapped my face with his filthy hand while muttering something in Burmese that made the other gunmen join in his laughter.
I knew he wasn't saying anything kind.
But all I cared about now was surviving intact.
Nothing else mattered.
After finishing that so - called breakfast, I expected to be thrown back into the cage, but instead, they led me to another room in a dilapidated, low - lying building.
When I was taken inside, two other thugs were already waiting for me.
One tossed me a set of prison - like clothes.
On the front and back of the shirt was a single number: 10086!
Only much later did I learn that not all of the scam centers in northern Myanmar provided uniforms to their captives.
Only the largest and most organized centers had this level of standardized management.
And the more standardized these scam centers were, the more perfected their exploitation systems, squeezing every last bit of value out of people like us.
"You're the first from your group to enter this building, which means you must be smart."
As I put on the clothes, a young thug sitting behind a desk, speaking flawless Chinese, said this with a smug grin.
The fluency of his Mandarin took me by surprise.
"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Abu, and I'll be in charge of you for the time being."
"Unless, of course, someone pays your ransom, or you die early."
This thug who called himself Abu looked about my age, and when he smiled, he could have passed for the boy next door.
But later, after experiencing his methods first - hand, I realized this scoundrel was nothing but a devil in human guise, a complete sadist!
"Do you want to leave here alive?"
Once I was dressed, Abu gestured for me to sit in the chair opposite him.
Who wouldn't want to escape?
If I had a choice, I wouldn't stay here a second longer.
I nodded instinctively - staying any longer could only mean a shorter lifespan.
"Good. You want to live."
Abu's grin widened, and he snapped his fingers at a nearby gun - toting thug. The thug dutifully handed me an old, obsolete cell phone.
"You're a smart person. You know that everything we do here is about money."
"We didn't go to all this trouble just to beat and torture you, right?"
This comment from Abu hit the nail on the head.