The Story of a Broken Child.Part one of many.

Introduction: The First Night

The small brown hand shook as it rested on the table. She was only a child. I didn't understand how anyone could want to hurt her. All I felt for her was love and pity but someone in her own family must have hated her to discard her so easily. Maybe I wasn't being fair. They were desperate, I'm sure, but she was seven. I wanted to replace the year of her life I knew would haunt her forever. The year she should have been learning to ride a bike, starting school, even just playing in the street. Instead she had been beaten, used, forced to please customers. The thought brought tears to my eyes as I looked across the table at this thin child sitting in front of a full bowl of rice, lacking any emotion in her big brown eyes. She must have felt me looking at her because she looked up at me and smiled. It was an empty smile but I smiled back, wanting to comfort her. She put her head down and placed her hands in her lap. This was the youngest case I had personally been involved with and even though I had seen many sad cases, this one seemed to affect me the most. I didn't know her name or the sound of her voice but I wanted to find the relative that sold her and show them the bruises on this little girl's body. I hope they would feel the same pain I knew this girl felt. It was almost time to go but she hadn't touched her food, and even though it was still dark outside we had to get her to the new safehouse as soon as possible. It was my first case in America. I had worked for five years in Cambodia, rescuing girls and boys out of brothels and placing them in safehouses or specially chosen foster homes, so it was almost ironic that my first case in America was a beautiful little girl straight from Cambodia. This was going to be a tough case, more dangerous than any I had ever worked. For the first time in my career, the trafficker was coming to get her. Nothing seemed more important to me than keeping this beautiful child safe. I wanted to scream at this man who was coming after her. It wasn't like I wanted another child to be taken and have to go through this, but why did he have to torment this girl any longer? I knew it would be easier to find another poor, desperate family in Cambodia than following us all over the US and trying to take her back. Why was she so special to him now? She had been through enough and I was determined to keep him away.

I was very interested in her story. How did they get her from Cambodia to New York City? What horrible places had they taken her in between? I wanted to know exactly who had sold her and what did they buy that could replace this granddaughter/daughter/sister/niece/friend. I was going to find the answers and no one was going to hurt this seven year old anymore. I felt like my entire career was just leading me up to this point. I was meant for this and I was ready. I got up from the table and reached out my hand, hoping one day she would trust me. She hesitated, but finally she took my hand and I knew my life would never be the same.

My Favorite Things

Give me coffee in the morning
Give me wine at night
A margarita on the weekend
Everything will be alright

Hot chocolate on cold evenings
Wrap in a blanket to top it off
Pink lemonade on hot days
Better take the blanket off!

A good book makes all this better
With any beverage that you like
Leave this world for another
A few hours at a time

If you have a good imagination
Write a story of your own
Make up something magical
And leave your problems at home