My dreams of earning money brought me from my modest town to Moscow. A suitcase-station— and here I stand on Komsomolskaya Square thinking, “What do I do next?” Buying a newspaper called “Work” at a kiosk wasn’t missed by recruiters, who are very good at loosening your tongue. An invitation to have lunch at the nearest café and discuss my future job with the secretary ended with the fact that I woke up three days later. And then something started… I ended up in sexual slavery…