A beginning but also an end. No matter how much the unknown frightened her, she welcomed it. And it was the anticipation of change that calmed her.
New curiosities surfaced, the kind she’d never had the luxury to explore. Before, she’d only thought of her body as flesh and bone. Limbs that carried her to work. Teeth that ached when she couldn’t afford to fix them. Even when she was young, her body had been transactional.
When she was still in school, she showed a few guys from the rugby team her boobs, but only because they paid her twenty pounds. Later, one of them had paid her another twenty to let him put his hand up her shirt. They kissed for a while, but she pushed him away when her body started to squirm.
For weeks, he walked her home, always begging to come inside. But that was around the time Mum started getting sick.
After surviving the loss of her mother, Daisy believed she could survive anything. Grief had taught her how to compartmentalize discomfort. Some days, existing left no room for pain or sadness. It angered her, but even her anger worked through a rain-check system, showing up only when she had the luxury of time.
This would be like that.
One night. Twelve hours. Whatever happened between dusk and dawn belonged solely to her and her god.
“Timber,” she whispered into the pale morning light, tucking her hands beneath her chin as merciful sleep finally dragged her under.
A few hours later, despite barely sleeping, Daisy awoke with a burst of energy. She showered and dressed in the cleanest clothes she owned, packed a small bag as instructed, and anxiously paced her flat until it was quarter to noon.
At 11:47, she stood on the pavement outside her building—exposed and oddly on display. At exactly noon, a sleek black car arrived. She recognized it immediately, because it was the kind that didn’t belong in her neighborhood.
The windows were tinted dark enough to hide whoever waited inside, frozen by indecision. A man in a simple black suit emerged.
“Miss Burdan?”
Her name in his mouth made everything suddenly real. A wave of dizziness caused her to stagger. “Yes, that’s me.”
He opened the rear door. “This way, please.”
She hesitated only a moment before climbing in. The interior was slate grey, the seats softer than her mattress at home. The air was climate-controlled and smelled of leather and sandalwood.
The driver didn’t speak when he returned to the front seat. He pulled away from the curb in total silence, the lump in her stomach growing as she watched her building shrink away in the rear window until it disappeared entirely.
“Can you tell me where we’re going?”
“No, ma’am.”
The city thinned and fell away, replaced by highways and countryside, green fields, and endless grey sky. Daisy lost track of time as the unfamiliar view distracted her. They wove along a narrow road that wound through the trees.
They emerged from the canopy onto a stretch of black pavement. A tarmac. The small plane sat on the tarmac like a dare. Her heart cinched, and her eyes widened.
“Nobody said anything about flying.” As someone who conducted her entire life on foot, the thought of getting onto that jet terrified her.
The driver made no response.
The car pulled beside the plane.
Her door opened, startling her. Time had dragged all morning and all through the night, but now it galloped ten times faster than usual.
“This way, please,” the driver instructed in the same flat tone.
This was truly the point of no return.
Was this human trafficking? She’d consented. Given them her information. Accepted their money. Got into the car. Now she was climbing the steps onto a plane.
She couldn’t breathe. What if this whole thing, the money, the contracts, the elegant envelopes, was just an elaborate setup?
She abruptly turned and came face-to-face with the driver’s chest. “I made a mistake.”
“Miss?” A female voice. Daisy turned to find a flight attendant in a blue uniform, smiling warmly from the landing above. “Your seat’s right this way.”
