Miguel opened the door, and a tall man stood there, his posture straight despite the years etched into his face, his clothes simple but well kept, his eyes observant in a way that made me feel exposed even from the other room.
“I came as agreed,” the man said calmly, his voice steady, almost formal.
Ruth stepped forward too quickly, her smile sharp at the edges as she replied, “She is not easy, but she is strong enough to work, and you said you would pay today.”
The man nodded and replied, “I said I would make sure she was taken care of, and I intend to do exactly that.”
Money appeared, counted with care, and the sound of bills sliding against each other felt louder than it should have, because it was the sound of my life being reduced to a transaction, and when Miguel turned toward me and said, “Pack your things and do not make this harder than it needs to be,” I understood that this was not a negotiation I could refuse.
The drive away from that house felt unreal, the desert stretching endlessly as I sat stiffly in the passenger seat, clutching a bag that held everything I owned, while my thoughts spiraled through fear and disbelief.