Corruption Among Us

WARNING

Some of the contents you're about to read may be disturbing to some.

Sniffles echo through the dark, crowded auditorium. Some of the audience stir in their seats. The speaker wipes a tear from her face and says. "It's difficult for me to go back to that horrid time, but if I can save a child's life, it will be well worth the pain." Taking a breath of courage, she pressed the remote in her hand. A photo of a diesel pops up on the screen.

"Me and two dozen others spent the next forty-five hours chained in the back of this." A picture of lifeless bodies being taken from the truck brightens the room. "Many didn't survive."

A young, dark-haired girl in filthy, torn clothes replaces the gruesome image. Turning towards the picture, she continues.

"I remember waking up to sobbing all around me. I look around and find dozens of girls chained to the side of what looks to be a metal box. I then feel the floor vibrating below me like it did when I rode in the back of Pappy's truck. That's when I knew we'd never see our families again." She grabs hold of her neck. "The air around me is so hot, so still that it's making it hard for me to breathe." Her hand slides down to her stomach. "And the god-awful smell makes my stomach churn.

She gazes toward the back as horrid memories continue to replay in her mind. "I'm trying to make sense of my surroundings when I hear a baby cry. I try to sit up but a cold, hard device tugs on my arm, pulling me to the ground.

I glance down to find a metal cuff clamped against my wrist. The chain attached to my restraint is secured to a hoop that's bolted to the floor. I try to break free but quickly discover there's no way to escape.

The sobbing gets louder. I look over to see a group of girls around my age crying in the corner. Their long, dark hair is a tangled mess, their filthy clothes are torn to shreds, and their faces are a bloody mess. A million questions come to mind, but I was too scared to ask, afraid of what their answers might be.

"Why me, why is this happening to me, to us?" I bawl.

Salty tears stream down my cheeks, causing them to sting. I reach up and feel several large gashes on my face. I look at the girls again. " They must've beat me too."

I feel a warm, sticky liquid between my legs. I then notice my private area is sore. I look down to find blood soaking through my panties. "What did they do to me? Oh, what did they do?"

Fuzzy images come to mind. I first picture a fat man on top of me. He gets up, and another man takes his place. His hair is long and greasy. His teeth are black slivers. His breath smells like rotten garbage.

I remember breaking free and running for the door. A man in a fancy gray suit drags me back, and the horrors start again.

I recall trying to get away a second time. A strong arm wraps around my neck. I then feel a cloth pressing against my face. I must've passed out because the next thing I remember is waking up in the back of the truck.

"Why did you do this to me, Mammy and Pappy? Why? Why did you let this mean man take me away? Why is God allowing this to happen? Is he punishing me for something I've done?" My twin suddenly comes to mind. I gasp at my next thought. I'm being punished for her death.

I must've cried myself to sleep because I woke up to find the man in a nice suit standing over me, ordering me to get dressed. Glancing over, I find the other girls are gone. I then noticed my clothes in a pile beside me. My privates hurt worse than before. Why does this keep happening to me? I think. Doing my best to do what I'm told, but my body is so sore that I'm finding it hard to do.

After what seems like hours of struggling with my wardrobe, the man drags me to his fancy car. There he explains how my parents are counting on me to pay off Pappy's debt and that I can go home when it's satisfied. Little did I know that the debt will never be paid.

The picture behind her changes to a woman locked in a metal cage. Her hair is a filthy, tangled mess. She has a sallow complexion, sunken cheeks, and glossy eyes. Her frail, child-sized body is nothing more than a thin layer of skin covering her frame. The audience gasps. The speaker turns towards them and continues. "He took me to a shed where I and a dozen others were beaten and raped for weeks. Many didn't survive the constant abuse."

A picture of a battered child holding her teddy bear pops up on the screen. She was one of many who didn't make it out alive. Maddie wasn't the only preschooler at the farm, but she's the one I remember." She sniffles and adds, "The one I miss the most. She couldn't have been more than three. She'd cry for her mommy every night. After hours of sobbing, she'd pop her thumb in her mouth, cuddle up to her teddy, and fall asleep. One cold, stormy night, she sobbed for hours. We tried to comfort her, but nothing anyone said or did seem to help. Early the following morning, she took her final breath.

Wiping a tear from her cheek, she clicks the remote again. Happy children on a playground replace the last image. "5.5 million children are trafficked every year. Approximately 1 out of every seven runaways." She clicks the remote, and nearly half the children disappear.

Hollywood tells you traffickers look like this." A tall, gangly man covered in tattoos appears on the screen. "I'm telling you from experience. They come from all walks of life, young, old, the rich, and the poor. He had several politicians on his payroll. It's how he got away with what he did for as long as he did."

The next picture is of a child darting down the road. I tried to escape the first chance I got and several times after. I ran to the cops on my first attempt. I soon discovered they were in on it too. Being in a foreign country, I wasn't sure who else to turn to. So I'd run around the city searching for help only to find myself back on the farm again.

I asked the other girls for help and was told the men threatened to kill their families if they didn't cooperate or try to run. I later discovered that many traffic victims live with their families but don't tell anyone what's happening because of the threats.

Turning toward the audience, she takes a deep breath and then says, Teaching our children to stay away from strangers isn't enough since often it's the people they know and trust that'll do this to them. A photo of elementary-aged girls being dragged into a fancy house appears on the screen.

I'm urging anyone with a child in their life please be proactive. Ask many questions, and please watch for these signs." A list appears behind her. The child dresses differently, provocatively, or in fancy clothes. They're using more makeup than usual, buying or having expensive things. Change in their demeanor angry, sad or withdrawn, acting out, a drop in grades. The child shows a lack of interest in their favorite activities.

If any of you see something odd in your normal day-to-day, please say something and follow up. You don't know how often I'd wished someone would've done that for me."