The room smells of sweat and fear. A thick chain with a padlock seals the barred door, and inside, three young people lie on mattresses on the floor, dozing off thanks to a mix of exhaustion and diazepam. Every so often, nurse Saio Keita approaches to check their vital signs, and the youths stir in their half-sleep. Ibrahima (a fictitious name) is one of them. Connected to an IV drip, he watches her expressionlessly and dazed from somewhere deep within his mind.