Traffick (39 page)

Do you really believe I'd rather

you were back in Las Vegas?

I can only respond with a shrug.

Kyra is quiet for a moment.

Looks like we've got to work

on some relationship building.

And it's a start. I'm thinking long

and hard about the roles I've played

within my failed relationships.

My family has been fractured

for a while. The support I've received

lately is the most I've had from Mom

and Dad since I was a little kid,

before their partnership ruptured.

That they're trying to repair it now

is largely because of me, so maybe

I can be a catalyst for good there.

Or maybe they'll fail at it again.

Kyra? When we were little, I looked

up to her, but she outshone me in

every way, and after a while it got

old taking the backseat to her well-

earned accomplishments. I chose

silent resentment in favor of expressing

my feelings, and that was a mistake.

Lucas was never a real relationship

at all. I clung to the idea that he cared

about me, though he was nothing but

all out for himself. Good riddance.

And now, James. If there's the slimmest

chance for us, it will be rooted in honesty.

I want to try if he does. I need someone

wonderful in my life, and guess what.

He's calling me right this minute.

Is in love with me.

He's my light, my warmth,

my bread and water.

How did I make it

through even one day

without

him? Someone wonderful

promises to spend the rest

of his days by my side.

People will say we're too

young to experience undying

love

that time will agree.

But the bond between

our hearts is steel, unbreakable,

and with proper care, won't rust.

One day he and I will explore

the world

hand in hand, and maybe

little hands will join ours.

Someone wonderful

gives me hope for the future

and without him my life

is colorless.

To my Tears of Zion exposé.

I'm not sure they really believe

me, but at least they don't send

me away. They haven't as yet

agreed to remove Eve from

Ruenhaven's grasp. What else

can I say to convince them

she's in evil hands? “May I ask

you something? What did Father

tell you about how I left?”

As always, it's Mama who

answers.
He said, like your sister's

namesake, you listened to

the serpent. That you seduced

that man, who was weak of spirit.

“No. He seduced me, with food

and soap. And I wasn't the first

girl he'd coerced in that way.

When you're starving, you'll do

anything for a piece of fruit.

Eve is hungry right now, Mama.

I don't know if Jerome is back,

or if there are others like him,

but whatever she did, this is not

a proper punishment for it.”

She jumps on the defensive.

What she
did
was emulate
you.

You ought to be ashamed of

yourself for encouraging her

immodest behavior. Just look

at you now, in fact. I knew

you'd figure a way to get back

together with that person

out there. Why . . . why . . .

It's a regular abomination.

It's no wonder you ended up

on the streets in that hideous

city. It was God's chastisement.

You can't circumvent his laws

and expect anything less.

Slapped down. I remember

this feeling so well, like I

could never deserve God's

mercy. I look her straight in

the eye. “Return to the scriptures,

Mama. ‘If we confess our sins,

he is faithful and just to forgive

us our sins, and to cleanse us

from all unrighteousness.' God

has forgiven me. Why can't you?”

One she's having a hard time

answering. While she thinks

about it, I go to the door,

wave to Andrew for him to

join me. Might as well get

to the meat of things. When

Mama starts to sputter, Papa

actually quiets her. Curiosity?

Guilt? Some tiny hint of love?

Leave her be. She deserves to

have her say, and so does the boy.

As Andrew speeds up the walk,

no doubt worried that I'm knee-

deep in trouble, it occurs to me

that Papa rarely dared to disagree

with Mama in the past. Has he

grown tired of her domineering

attitude? Has my command of

scripture swayed him? Does he

hear the truth of my words?

Does he, maybe, miss having

his children in his household,

and sincerely regret he didn't

stand up for us sooner? I'd like

to think all of the above hold true.

I'd like to believe my papa loves me.

Sobering thought, because

it doesn't include Mama. Would

I like to believe my mama loves

me, too? On some deep personal

level, I really don't care anymore.

Andrew crosses the threshold,

and as he does, I vow my children

will never doubt their mother's

love.
Are you okay?
he asks,

concern obvious in his voice.

“Absolutely. I just don't want

to break our news to them without

you beside me.” I twine my fingers

into his, squeeze hard, and tug

him toward the living room.

Mama's hackles rise noticeably,

and I try to lower them first.

“Do you know what thought

just crossed my mind, Mama?

That I don't believe you love me,

and to be honest, I wonder if you

ever did. I think you're afraid

of love, and that makes me sad.

Because love is
of
God, not in

spite of him. And you're wrong.

My love for Andrew is not

an abomination. It's real, and

beautiful, and so, of God. Look . . .”

I extend my left hand. “Despite

all that's happened, and Andrew

knows everything, he wants to

marry me. Yes, we're young, but

you were only a couple of years

older when you married Papa.

I wish . . .” A giant knot forms

in my throat, and I can't finish,

so Andrew tries.
I know it's hard

for you to believe this, but when

I first met Eden, I'd never been

in love before. And do you know

what made me love her almost

immediately? First, her incredible

spirit, which could only be born

of God. And second, her respect

for Creation, which had to come

from you. I'm sorry ego came

into play last year—both mine

and yours. Mine, because yes,

I wanted her to love me. And

yours, for much the same reason.

Forward momentum at full

throttle, I do my best to swallow

the lump in my throat. “Without

your permission, we can't get

married until I turn eighteen,

despite the emancipation.

It's only a year, and we don't

mind a long engagement, but

I don't want to spend it in Las

Vegas. Andrew and I plan to

live here in Boise. This is our

home. I hope we can maintain

a civil relationship with you, and

I'd very much like to stay in close

contact with Eve. I really wish

you can find room in your hearts

for me, but if not, I'll work through

it. Either way, please, please find

room there for Eve. She deserves

parents who will show her love.”

Mama sits, speechless, eyes cast

toward the floor. Papa looks a bit

shell-shocked. “Come on, Andrew,

we should go. Merry Christmas,

Mama. Merry Christmas, Papa.”

Crisp and clear, with myriad

stars sequinning the black velvet

sky. I beam a silent thank-you

in that direction. I'm not sure

how much we accomplished,

but it could have gone worse,

and as we left Papa said,

You've given us a lot to think

about.
At least one of them

heard us. I hope we used all

the right words. Andrew slides

his arm around my shoulders,

snugs me tightly against him

as we walk to the Tundra.

“I'll still need to go to Elko.”

I figured as much. I'm on semester

break for another week. We'll go

in a day or two. Everything will

be okay, Eden. I promise. Hey,

have I told you lately I love you?

“Andrew, you just told my parents

you love me.” We stop beneath

a streetlight, where anyone can see.

And this time when he kisses me,

I know without a doubt I'm home.

I first became interested in the subject of Domestic Minor Sex Trafficking (DMST) when I came across the statistic that the average age of young women introduced into prostitution is twelve. This was in 2007, just as the widespread problem of child sex trafficking was becoming news. I spent the next year researching and writing
Tricks
, which introduces five teen characters from different parts of the country, all of whom, for very different reasons, end up turning tricks in Las Vegas.

All five lived on in the minds of readers, and eventually a sequel was called for, as the characters' fates were still undecided at the end of the book. While
Traffick
provides those answers, it also introduces readers to other DMST victims, some of whom become survivors, and others who don't. All these characters are inspired by very real people, living very real lives as DMST victims. We have become much more aware of the problem in the last decade, and awareness is the beginning of change.

With new federal guidelines in place, the penalties for DMST pandering have greatly increased. Trafficking children under the age of fourteen now carries a mandatory life sentence in many states, including Nevada. However, DMST will continue as long as there is a market. Education is paramount, as is intervention by law enforcement and great organizations like Children of the Night, GEMS: Girls Educational and Mentoring Services, and other rescue services. Help is available.

You can find a service provider in your area by calling the National Human Trafficking and Smuggling Center at 888-373-7888.

Or, report suspected child prostitution activity to the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children at 800-THE-LOST or
cybertipline.com
.

According to the National Human Trafficking and Smuggling Center:

• Human trafficking is the exploitation of a person for the purposes of forced labor or commercial sex, regardless of citizenship or nationality. Despite the connotation of the word, “trafficking” doesn't always indicate movement between cities.

• Sex trafficking is when a commercial sex act is induced by force, fraud, or coercion, or whenever the person induced to perform such an act has not attained eighteen years of age.

• Trafficking happens to US citizens, within the borders of this country, and in every state.

• The average age of a child introduced to DMST is twelve.

• Daily in the United States between 150,000 and 300,000 children under eighteen are trafficked.

• Up to 30 percent of DMST victims are boys, including straight, gay, and transgendered youth.

• More than 70 percent of homeless youth living on the streets turn tricks to survive.

• Victims of DMST don't always self-identify as victims. Often they believe they don't deserve a better life, or that their pimps truly love them and this is a small price to pay for that love.

Also by Ellen Hopkins