In a seedy motel room, the scent of desperation and cheap perfume hangs heavy. Two teens, barely legal, sit on the edge of the bed, their eyes darting nervously between the camera and the man holding a thick wad of cash. "How much?" he asks, his voice a low growl. The first girl swallows hard, her voice steady despite the lump in her throat. "A thousand each," she says, her friend nodding in agreement. The man chuckles, "Done," he says, peeling off the bills. The girls exchange a glance, a mix of fear and excitement in their eyes as they prepare to sell their bodies, one thrust at a time.