"How much?" The question hangs heavy in the air, echoing the teenager's desperation. "Fifty," the man replies, his eyes lingering on her young body. She swallows hard, her decision made. The room is dimly lit, the smell of cheap alcohol and sweat lingering. She counts the bills, her fingers trembling slightly. She's never done this before, but she needs the money. She takes off her clothes, her body now a commodity to be bought and sold. The man watches, his expression hungry. She tries to block out the camera, the knowledge that this will be recorded, that she will be watched. But it's too late for that. She's already sold herself.