Two guards march up to our gym tormentor, the guard working us until we’re nothing but puddles of sweat. The tall man with a bald head whispers in her ear. She frowns but nods.

“Please don’t let her make us run laps again,” I groan, I can’t stand up.

“Cunningham,” the guard bellows and blows her whistle.

My attention snaps to a dark-haired girl with slumped shoulders and bruises. When she looks my way, I see fear evident in her wide, teary eyes.

“What’s happening?” I ask.

All the women around me give sympathetic looks to the girl that’s slowly walking to the two guards or stare at the ground....