Posted Jun 17, 2016
She thought to herself for a moment trying to remember where it all started. In the most distant part of her memory she remembered sitting on the top of a bale of hay pressed up against of the back window of a rickety old truck. The truck barreled out of the gravel driveway throwing dust in the face of the man she called Dad. The same man who was the reason she sat cross legged on the prison floor. She never seen him again, but the last vision of him cracking open the beer on that hot sunny day she was sold was enough to stay away forever. She wouldn’t be allowed to see him again anyways because if she did, they would probably kill her family and then herself. She felt that maybe she should have gone back all those years ago and saved herself from all of the pain she has been dealt. Unfortunately this was the life she lived. All the days seemed to mesh together; she wasn’t sure exactly how old she was anymore. When she was sold into this trade she must have been about six. Ever since then she became use to the ritual. Her handlers sent her out all day and night. She’d get sleep if she was lucky enough to get the time. That’s why she laid her head against the cement wall, to catch some sleep before she had to return to the musty bedroom where she performed her duties. Her entire body hurt from the lacerations, bumps and bruises. She wondered if she would always be able to numb the pain and hold onto the fantasy world she could escape to. Once she returned she would be chained up in a closet or out on the floor.
Finally the time arrived when the guard came to open her cell door. She would stand before the judge, take a charge and be on her way. She couldn’t read the judge’s facial expression as he hesitated before the charge was placed. He began to rant but she tuned him out as it didn’t matter anyways. When she tuned back he concluded with ‘I expect never to see you back here, one way or another.’ She was released with papers and community contacts. She chucked them in the trash as she waited on the corner. They were late which was extremely rare but she knew to stay exactly where she was and wait. Her mind raced with thoughts of escape and ‘what ifs?’ She pondered the judge’s conclusion and knew he was right. She would never return to court either way because she would either be dead or saved by then. She slowly backed up and ran to the trash can and snatched up the community numbers. Looking down she immediately seen the word ‘shelter.’ She ran to the nearest payphone and dialed a toll free number which would change her life forever.