I look ather, not through my camera, I move it away from myface and look at Susan, hoping she?d look my way. What am I hoping to see onher face? Fear?...Submission?Or? understanding? What am I hoping she will see on mine? Compassion? Is it? Does she?Does she understand that I am here merely because there is nothing else for meto do in this country? Does she understand that I could not prevent this fromhappening? Does she understand that I am not like these guys? I am not a thug.I would never. I hear the rip of fabric and feel the coldness on my other shoulder. It's a knife. It's a knife and he's cutting my bathing suit off me. The remains of the fabric from the top fall to the sand and a tear escapes from my eye. I feel the coldness on each side of my hips and then the warm breeze caressing my ass. I'm naked in front of this man. A hand is placed on my back and I'm shoved to the ground. The sand caught some of the fall but the seashells make tiny cuts on my body. I turn around and. More

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