Every day, children across the world are abducted and forced into prostitution by crime lords who rule the global sex trade industry. Estimates of the total number of children who are currently sex slaves is 2 million globally (UNICEF).
Today’s fictional article is about Anne, a 13-year-old runaway who becomes caught in the web of a gang of sex traffickers. Their goal is to turn her into “Ruby,” a green-eyed goddess working in their international businesses located in Singapore, Seoul, and Bangkok. But Anne turns out to be more than they bargained for, as she unleashes her secret weapon.
To help you with today’s story, each day of Anne’s captivity will be numbered 1-4.
The beginning:
“My name is Victoria Anne Mills, but I go by Anne. My story began at age 13, when my father died. Right before he died, we had a bad fight over my wanting to have a friend over to spend the night. He said no, and I screamed, “I hate you! I want a new dad!”
My dad was a gentle giant — he’d hold me and make me feel like I was the most special girl in the galaxy. He smelled like a pine forest from his aftershave. After he died, mom fell apart, drank, and got depressed. When she said we were moving to Texas to stay with her mother, I ran away. I went from friend to friend, until one day, four big men came and kidnapped me.
Day 1 of Captivity – Arrival:
I was drugged, so my next memory was waking up in a small room in the basement of a huge mansion in the woods. My room was isolated, but I could hear voices of other girls. I had a cot, a bucket for a toilet, a blanket and pillow. When I fell asleep, my father appeared to me in a dream: “When they come for you, ask for a pencil and paper to draw and sketch, but keep a secret record of everything you see, and make a map of the basement.”
Day 2 – I meet Ming:
This morning, when a woman named Ming brought me breakfast, I asked for a pencil and paper to draw animals, and she said OK. She measured me for clothes, dyed my hair blonde, and gave me a necklace which said, “Ruby.” I learned the names of the Big Boss, Mr. Blackmore, and his son, Little Boss, Steve. I drew pictures of animals, but also made a secret map of the basement and the back-door exit, which went into a tunnel that ran into Coal Creek Road.
Day 3:
Steve brought me lunch, which I refused to eat. This enraged him, so he put a metal ankle cuff with a chain attached on my leg. He looped the chain over a ceiling rafter, pulled it tight, and as I was hanging upside down, he whipped my back. I heard a girl screaming at the far end of the basement, but when Steve stopped, I realized it was my own screams.
When Steve decided to rape me, he made a mistake — he lowered me down to the floor, and when the chain fell from the rafter, I wrapped it around his neck and pulled. I flew out the basement door into the tunnel, took Coal Creek Road and ended up in a cemetery. Exhausted, I fell asleep in a pile of leaves.
My father spoke to me again: “Wake up, Anne, you must find the Blackmore Vault, and hide your map in the crevice of the door.” I awoke and followed his commands.
“The next part of my story involves the Sherriff — it’s how I was found and taken to the ER:”
Westbound on Coal Creek Road, came the “Junkman,” in his rusted-out Chevy truck. A silver glint on the hillside of the cemetery made him pull over and climb the hill. “Wow,” he whooped, “a brand-new Cadillac hubcap.” A second flash of metal beckoned him over. He bent over and saw a chain, which he pulled until he realized it was attached to the ankle of a child. He brushed the leaves off her face, saw she was breathing, dashed down the hill and called 911.
Sheriff Browning arrived at the scene and the Junkman took him to where he found the girl, but she was gone. Using flashlights, they began to search for the girl. It was an old cemetery, filled with Civil War graves and mausoleums. “There she is Sheriff, on the Blackmore Vault,” the Junkman said.
A young girl sat on the top stair of the mausoleum. In her hands was a chain gathered in her lap, which was attached to a metal ankle cuff. Her head was tilted back, resting on the monument door. Her eyes were fixed on the waxing moon as her blood-stained body bathed in amber moonlight.
Emergency Room:
The ER physician sat next to the girl, as a nurse cleaned the whiplash wounds on her back. He left the room and told the Sheriff, “she’s in shock — let’s meet in the morning and you can interview her.”
Day 4 – Recaptured, then saved:
At 5 a.m., four burly men in white coats entered the back stairway, overcame the security guard, and stole Anne.
A question kept bothering the Sheriff — why had the girl picked the Blackmore Vault to sit on? He drove out to the cemetery and found the secret map that Anne had drawn in the crevice of the door. Two hours later, police stormed the Blackmore mansion. Sixteen girls, including Anne, were saved.
The End:
You’ve just finished reading Anne’s story. What kept her from giving up? It was her “secret weapon,” these core beliefs instilled by her father: 1. I am important. 2. I am strong. 3. I can overcome anything. The end.
The content of this article is for educational purposes only, and should not be used as a substitute for treatment by a professional. The characters in this story are not real. Names and details have been changed to protect confidentiality.
References: “Arkofhopeforchildren.org” — Child Trafficking Statistics
Dr. Richard Elghammer contributes his column each week to the Journal Review.
