The traffickers had locked Joy up in a room somewhere in southern Italy. They threatened her with a terrible voodoo spell, which she seemed to have believed in, and they threatened to beat up her if she tried to escape.

The johns came, one after another, hour after hour, day after day, month after month.

And then somehow she managed to escape from this hell.

Now she sat here, in a room in the refugee barracks, a baby on her lap, shy and friendly, and she never left this room, not even for a moment.

Hell had come along with her.