A young African girl on a bus is jabbering away about her recent arrival. She asks her aunty how much longer her journey will be. Soon she will naively hand over her passport, be raped, and be baptised into the sisterhood of trafficked sex workers. Over the next seventy minutes the claustrophobia of her plight becomes our own. Through sound, video, and gruesome proximity the sex trade will pervade your soul while watching Roadkill, but the strong performances will force you to never look away, despite your strong desire to do so. The problem of the piece is that the cramped quarters that the play exists in (about fifteen or so audience members in a small house in New Town) and shocking subject matter would be effective enough design wise to carry the day. But for some reason, there are more video montages, sound-scapes, and theatrical lighting than are necessary, which at times drown out the extreme emotional depth that everyone involved experiences. Roadkill will not be everyones cup of tea, but it is a vital play about a horrific subject that should haunt you after you leave the festival.