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She is the only thing that gets me through this.
    Just before I was trafficked I made her a pretend telephone. We could not afford a real one, so I tied two plastic cups to the ends of a long piece of string. She would go in one room and put the cup to her ear to see if she could hear me talking, then make me do the same.
    I talk to her all the time in my head now, hoping somehow that she can telepathically hear me. Liliana is at the mercy of Natalia, Andrei, the Rapist, Paul, and many others I have never even met. Her life used to be in my hands. Now it is in theirs alone.

Day 53
     
     
    Yesterday I was allowed outside. Not to shop or sightsee or visit a friend, like most people take for granted, but to visit a rich customer.
    Paul has an expensive apartment in London that he keeps for his big-payers, and he drove me there in his shiny, luxurious car. He calls this “The Millionaires’ Club.”
    He told me the man had booked me for the whole night. Tomorrow I must call Paul and he will pick me up.
    The apartment was like something in a magazine – modern with big windows and minimal furniture. It was spotlessly clean with sparkling chrome and glass, and the area of London looks expensive and well-cared for. The complete opposite of the massage parlour. It is on the fifteenth floor of the building, and I could look down to the huge river below. For a moment I wondered what it would feel like to run through the glass and dive into the water. Into oblivion.
    I had my bag with me and my “sexy” clothes inside. Paul told me I must look beautiful for this man, so I brushed my hair until it shone like ebony and you cannot tell that it is coming out by the handful. I applied my make-up to hide the dark circles under my eyes and my pale skin. My skin smelled of vanilla from the perfume Paul gave me to wear so this man will not smell the mould from the bathroom I shower in. From the way Paul talked, I knew this man was an important customer and I had to make a special effort.
    This was the first time I had been outside on my own since I was trafficked, and Paul let me know in no uncertain terms what will happen to Liliana if I did something stupid.
    When Paul left, I went into one of the bedrooms to get ready for this man. I was told he likes being tied up and whipped. Then he likes to act out a rape fantasy.
    He arrived in an expensive-looking suit. He has light brown hair and pale blue eyes. He is probably about forty-eight years old. He did not waste time ordering me to do this and that: Undress him while I am naked, except for knee-length leather boots. Tie him to the bed by his legs and arms. Whip him lightly and shout filthy things to him. Then, when he was ready, he ordered me to untie him.
    Next, it was my turn to be whipped. Only he enjoyed doing it harder. Not enough to rip my skin, but I have sore, red welts there now. He liked to handcuff my wrists and ankles to the bed and strangle me as he raped me. This went on throughout the night. Time and again.
    Today I cannot talk. There are bruises around my throat and marks on my body. At 8 a.m. the man got dressed, and as he did up his cufflinks he stared at me. He did not really see me; I am just a thing to him.
    ‘I like you,’ he said, nodding his approval. ‘Paul made a good choice. I’ll see you the same time next week.’ He handed me a one hundred pound tip.
    I cannot keep it, of course. I have to give it to Paul so he knows he can trust me. Paul was very pleased with me. He showed his pleasure by ripping my clothes off as soon as I got into my bedroom at the massage parlour. He had a huge, ugly grin on his face as he saw the bruises and marks across my white skin.
    ‘Oh, yeah, baby. He likes you. You’re going to make me a fortune,’ Paul said before throwing me on the bed and raping me.
    I squeezed my eyes closed and prayed for this nightmare to end.

Day 54
     
     
    Yesterday was my initiation into “The Millionaires’ Club.” Paul told me the