The sun slips in through the window peaking through the holes worn in the ratty curtain salvaged from a dream lost in the past of forgotten ambitions. I awaken to a day hoping that it will be my last in this life. Take that how you may, both assumptions would be accurate. Any way to escape this life forced upon me by the men that have a hole in their bodies where one's soul would normally be held. I drag myself off the mat that I'm sometimes able to pretend is a real bed in a room with strong walls and a loving family. Then I look up at the grey, pealing walls stained with years of neglect and broken lives knowing that mine is only one among many. Many dreams lost. Many lives shattered. Many tears shed.
In the room next to mine, I hear a young girl whimper in the shadows that I know are created by the dim light shining ominously through her window. I know her fear. It is the same fear that I felt in my first days. She has been torn from the only life she knew. A life that was difficult and far from ideal. But a life that was hers. Now, she is alone in a room by herself wearing clothes that have not been washed in a week. Each day she wakes up hoping that this reality is a dream. That she will wake up from this nightmare. At the very least, she hopes that no one will enter her room for the day. Her days will be spent listening to every step that descends the hallway praying they will pass her room. When the door opens, that is when the real trembling begins. She will shake and begin to hope again when the man speaks to her in kind tone. He will say nothing that she understands or even cares to understand. Then her hope is shattered. He will become impatient when she doesn't immediately heed his command. This is when the violence begins.
This is the point that I try to block out. This is what has made me cease to feel. It was not the crimes that took my fire. It was listening to it happen again and again to those too young and too weak. It was listening to them cry themselves to sleep at night. It was hearing a new voice in the room next door and knowing that the previous tenet is gone forever. That she has finally escaped and the next terror is about to begin. It is knowing that there is nothing I can do about it. It is knowing that these people are ruining the lives of dozens of little girls each and every day. That is what stole my fire. That is what made me want to die or escape or whatever it would take to get me out of here. This is hell. This is a place devoid of any hope. Every semblance, every glimmer of hope is stomped out as soon as it takes hold.
This story is not mine or taken from anywhere else. It is simply how I imagine the life of someone trapped in human trafficking. Please do not ignore it. Human traffcking, modern day slavery, is real and it is part of our world. Don't be deceived. It is also part of our country. Check out this block by a group dedicated to ending human trafficking in our world. Take a stand. Be a part of saving someone's life. love146.org
This is a small part of what I will be doing with the World Race. It is a huge part of what tugs at my heart strings. Support me this year; support freedom.
