The door at the top of the stairs leading into the basement opened, letting in a shaft of light that was blinding in the dank darkness. A figure was silhouetted in the doorway, and Alex squinted against the light to try and discern its features. Then the figure began to lumber down the stairs, shutting the door behind itself, and a face swam into view.
It was one of the traffickers. From his gait, Alex could tell he was drunk, but in this situation it didn't make him any less dangerous. He was alone, and this was a bad sign. Alex drew her legs in towards herself, unconsciously attempting to make herself as small a target as possible. It wouldn't help.
He loomed over her, grinning at her sickeningly, then jangled the keys to her handcuffs in his hand. She fixated on them – if there was a way to get hold of those…
"You and I, little girl, are going to have some fun," he said, drawing her attention back to him. He bent towards her, then punched her hard in the face. Her head slammed backwards against the radiator. Red lights flashed in front of her eyes, and she had to fight to stay conscious. He took advantage of her incapacity to undo her handcuffs and yank her away from the radiator, leaving her lying face down on the basement floor. Through the haze that clouded her brain, Alex was able to realise that this was her opportunity. It might be her last one.
She pushed herself onto her feet, ran for the stairs… but her legs, after two days motionless, wouldn't fully comply, and the trafficker managed to grasp her hair and pull her backwards, simultaneously lashing out with his foot and swiping her legs from under her. She hit the ground hard, and felt the familiar click of handcuffs around her wrists. The man pulled her to her feet, her hands now cuffed behind her, and pushed her against the back wall of the basement. She could see the stairs and the doorway behind him, escape tantalisingly close and yet unreachable.
His face was inches from hers; close enough to smell the alcohol on his breath.
"You're too much trouble, little girl. I think we'll finish this tonight… just you and me."
He leered at her, then shifted, pressing one arm across her throat to keep her pinned to the wall. The pressure on her windpipe made her head spin and nearly distracted her from what the trafficker was doing with his other hand, which was methodically unbuttoning his fly.
Horror swept over her, but was followed by eerie calm. Her brain threw up random phrases – the calm before the storm, the calm at the centre of the storm, the eye… Everything came together at once, and before she'd even consciously made a decision, before she'd even had an idea, her left knee was ramming into the man's crotch with as much force as she could muster and he was doubling over and her right leg was swinging up into a kick that caught him full in the chest and he was falling backwards and she was running, running up the stairs, nearly to the door…
And then she felt the trafficker's hand on her ankle, and the world twisted, and the stairs flew upwards towards her. With her hands still cuffed behind her there was no way to break her fall. Her head hit the step in front of her, and her world filled with pure, blinding pain that was quickly replaced by oblivion.