Free Breakdown by Sarah Mussi

very flimsy, with crossed straps at the back and cut low at the front. The skirt clings to my legs. It’s beautiful in a way, but I hate it. It makes me feel young and vulnerable and powerless.
    Kaylem leans up against the wall, laughing, twitching his crotch, making rude gestures.
    â€˜You’re too thin,’ remarks Dena and pulls the dress tighter around my waist to show my shape. She fastens it with a safety pin. ‘Eat this,’ she says and thrusts a cold cooked potato into my hand.
    I glance up at her. She doesn’t look back. There’s something sorry in the angle of her shoulders. That’s all.
    I eat the potato.
    Careem arrives. He strolls in, his long black coat swishing as he walks.
    â€˜Think she’ll do?’ he says to Kaylem.
    The two of them exchange a knowing look.
    Careem examines me. He looks for skin damage. I realise Kaylem was very clever in the way he slapped me. Bruises don’t show up around the back of the head and, except for a thinning of hair on my left side, a cut on my inside lip and a few blue shadows on my neck, there’s nothing to show.
    Careem sees the bruises on my neck, though. ‘Not happy about that,’ he says.
    Dena finds a scarf – wispy, pale. She drapes it round my neck.
    â€˜Speak to Tarquin,’ Careem orders Kaylem.
    â€˜It wasn’t Tarquin,’ I say.
    The blow lands on the side of my head just behind my ear. I reel, nearly fall. Dena steadies me.
    â€˜I said, speak to Tarquin. She was in his care and he knows better.’
    â€˜Delighted to,’ says Kaylem.
    â€˜Get Nailey and get her out.’
    I’m marched out, dizzy, my eyes watering. Through the arena, across one of the footbridges. A chill wind blows. In this skimpy dress I have nothing to shield me.
    â€˜Keep moving,’ orders Careem. ‘We don’t want her looking like a dried dog when we get there.’
    I think:
Get where? How far? Can I break free? Run?
I can scarcely walk in these stupid shoes they’ve squeezed on me. I see a car, an army jeep. It comes gliding out, stops right by us.
    â€˜Get in,’ orders Careem.
    He yanks open a door and gets in the front. Nailey and Kaylem bundle me into the back. One on either side. The car moves off. It slowly negotiates the bumps in the road and heads through the ruined streets of the east. We pass a few straggling gangers carrying heavy loads of broken furnishings. Firewood. One woman with a tin basin full of bits and pieces.
    â€˜Grow tough and stay tough.’ That’s what Nan would say. ‘And when the going gets tough – get tougher.’
    Maybe I can’t run, but I can stay and fight. And that gives me an idea.
    I let my shoulders fall slack and a blank mask settle across my face. Even the tiniest pinprick can pop a bubble.
    Make your pinprick count
, I tell myself.
    Make sure you burst Careem’s little bubble.

    At the barracks, through the swing barrier, at a manned outpost, the jeep stops. We’re outside a large stately building. A squad of soldiers, six, come at the double to the jeep. Careem casually steps down from the front seat. He nods at me. ‘Brought a little treat for the General.’
    The soldiers hold their guns at the ready.
    â€˜You and you, step out. Stand by the car,’ they order Kaylem and Nailey. ‘You and the girl this way.’
    Careem laughs, flicks his wrist at the two gangers. ‘Amuse yourselves, boys,’ he says.
    And then we walk. Careem takes my arm. He twists it. ‘Walk nicely,’ he says. ‘If you fail to fetch me a good price, I’ll let Kaylem have you – with no conditions about spoiling the goods.’
    So he knows.
    When the going gets tough,
I think,
I’ll put my plan into action.
    We’re ushered into a wide hall. Instantly I can see where all the country’s wealth has gone. It has the grandest interior. The furnishings are all in red. The ceiling is divided into