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Her eyes were filled with dust, her head was spinning, but still Helen could make out her attacker’s enraged face as he squeezed the life out of her.

Helen had hit the ground hard, the back of her head connecting sharply with an exposed rock, leaving her confused and disoriented.

Her attacker had capitalized on her misfortune, pinning down her arms with his knees and sliding his hands around her exposed neck.

Through the dancing dirt, Helen tried to fix her attention on her attacker.

His face swam in and out of focus, but his intention was clear: he meant to crush the life out of her.

This was a man who thrived on violence, on control, who enjoyed forcing himself on those less powerful than himself.

Twisting and turning on the dirty ground, Helen laboured to free herself from his hold, desperate to shake him off, to wipe that gruesome smile from his face.

But her assailant’s blood was up, the furious thug hell-bent on destroying the woman who’d become a major thorn in their side.

With each passing second, the pressure increased.

Helen’s vision was dimming, her last remaining vestiges of energy ebbing away, and she could sense that the end was near.

Was this how it was supposed to go? Was this darkest of days always destined to be her last?

It made sense perhaps, one fight too many at the culmination of a troubled and often painful life.

Helen had only seconds left, but could do nothing whilst pinned down and helpless.

Frantically, she twisted and tugged, desperate to free her arms from beneath his bulky knees.

And now finally she caught a break, her left hand slithering free.

Her attacker barely noticed, thrilled by the sight of her bulging eyes and flushed face, excited by the prospect of the kill.

Unable to see clearly, gasping for breath, Helen’s outstretched fingers now alighted on the rock she’d hit her head on.

Gripping it firmly, she summoned her last shred of resolve, then smashed the rock into the back of his skull.

Caught off guard, her assailant cried out, immediately loosening his grip.

Released from his hold, Helen was quick to follow up her initial assault, swinging the rock round with all her might.

Reeling, her enemy did not see it coming, the pointed end of the stone hitting him hard in the temple.

Groaning, he rolled off, then lay still in the dust.

Helen’s throat was on fire, her chest burning, her legs as shaky as a newborn lamb’s, but somehow she managed to clamber to her feet.

Swaying like a boxer on the ropes, she still had to deal with her attacker’s companion, who had snatched up the discarded gun and now pointed it directly at her.

There was little chance of her giving up now, however, especially as she could make out shouting elsewhere in the yard, screams of shock and confusion as people became aware of the vicious confrontation taking place.

Without hesitation, she spun on her heel, hurling the rock directly at the thug.

Her aim was true, the rock hitting him squarely between the eyes.

Stunned, the man staggered backwards, clutching his face.

This moment of hesitation was all Helen needed and, stepping forward, she swung her heavy boot up between his legs.

The burly man virtually leapt into the air, spilling the gun from his grasp.

As he came back down to earth, shocked and gasping, Helen took another purposeful step forward, driving her fist into the middle of his face.

With satisfaction, she felt his nose snap before he too hit the ground, out cold.

Snatching up the gun, Helen limped across the yard, breathing heavily as she cut a faltering path towards the clanking incinerator. Terrified workers scattered in her wake, Helen scrambled on, on, on, until suddenly she found herself directly in front of Leyla, who turned to greet her, eyes ablaze.

Outraged at this unexpected intrusion, the gangmaster tugged a bicycle chain from her pocket and began to advance. Helen knew she had no energy left, no resolve for another confrontation, so swallowing her scruples she raised the gun, aiming it at her assailant’s legs.

‘Not another step or I will fire,’ Helen barked.

But still the trafficker kept coming.

‘I mean it, Leyla …’

Her assailant was now only ten feet away, so gritting her teeth, Helen squeezed the trigger, determined to subdue her opponent.

Click.

To Helen’s horror, the chamber was empty. Shocked, she pulled the trigger again. Then a third time. But the result was always the same, the hammer clicking pointlessly on the empty chambers. Looking up, she was surprised to see that her antagonist was smiling.

‘Oh, they’re never loaded on site. Can’t risk damaging the merchandise, can we?’ Leyla gloated, chuckling darkly at Helen’s surprise.

Alarmed, Helen raised the butt of the gun to strike, but she was too slow, the chain slamming into her cheek.

Reeling, she staggered backwards, but a second blow to her neck felled her and she collapsed to the ground.

Her attacker took full advantage, pinning Helen down with a heavy boot, whilst whirling the chain above her head.

She now had Helen completely at her mercy.

And this time her nemesis planned to finish the job.