They dragged me into their car

They dragged me into their car and didn't say a word. They tied my left hand to my left ankle, my right hand to my right ankle. On the back seat I was in a permanent squat thrust position.

When I saw water I thought I was going to be thrown into it. They did not say a word as we boarded the P&O Ferry, and left me in the car while they went out on deck.

They untied me in silence, hours after arriving in France. They freed up my arms and legs calmly, as though untying a shoelace, or taking a bobble out of a ponytail.

"The beaches here are beautiful. the man in the passenger seat told me. It was the first time I had seen his face, the bristle on his bottom lip, the piercing on his left eyebrow. His voice was English; North East. The driver got out of the car, opened up the door by my head and dragged me out. I lay spread-eagled on the promenade. I still see the car sometimes. When I see people sat alone in restaurants I wonder where they have come from.