FIVE

LIBERTY’S SENSES WERE SO HEIGHTENED THAT SHE could hear her own breathing. She dared not speak. The blacked-out windows allowed no light to enter the van and time stood torturously still as Liberty was transported to a destination unknown. Thirst plagued her, hunger gripped her tiny stomach, and fear stifled her as she cried silently . . . eyes wide but seeing nothing, soul crying while simultaneously muting all sound that escaped from her dried lips. The ride was so long that she had no choice but to defecate, soiling the little clothing that she wore. No food . . . no water . . . no fresh air. The lack of necessities tormented her young mind, terrifying her. The fact that A’shai was no longer by her side made her stomach flip-flop from vulnerability. She wondered where he was and if he was okay, but mostly she wondered where she was headed all the while praying for someone to rescue her. For three days she sat in the back of that van, starving; her knees folded to her chest as she held onto them for dear life. She tuned out the sounds of the whimpering girls around her. She didn’t need to adopt any of their fears to know she was in trouble. The emptiness that she felt inside was unbearable. Flashes of her old village being raided raced through her mind. Her body battled with the overwhelming heat in the van as a chill came over her. She wanted to pray for GOD’s mercy but as she thought of her current circumstance she concluded that HE couldn’t exist. This would not be happening to me if GOD was real, she thought. Aghast with uncertainty, she never closed her eyes. She couldn’t sleep, not when her heart was racing like she had stampeding thoroughbreds in her chest. She could barely hold her eyes open as fatigue plagued her, but her fear was constant and kept her awake the entire trip. The car finally stopped moving, and Liberty crawled to her knees unsure of what fate lay ahead of her. Anxious to stretch their legs, the women and young girls groaned as the doors were opened and they were freed from the back of the van.

“Get out! Hurry up! Get out!” one of the men shouted as he held an automatic assault rifle while moving them out of the vehicle like a herd of cattle. The sun’s rays were blinding, almost painfully. After days of nothing but darkness, the light was just as foreign as this new place she had been brought to. Liberty’s neck was on a swivel as she looked around for Ms. Beth. Even though the white woman was the very person who lured her into her current predicament, Liberty still hoped that Ms. Beth would help her . . . rescue her . . . free her.

“Line them up!” a man shouted.

Liberty was pushed into an orderly line. Her soiled clothes were ripped from her body, leaving her naked. At only ten-years-old nothing about her was womanly . . . nothing sexy . . . but despite this she could sense the inappropriate stares of lust as the men assaulted each of them with their eyes. To her captors this was business, big business at that. They could assess the value of each of the captives just by looking at them, and Liberty’s youth actually worked in their favor. Not yet old enough to be sold, but young enough to work the streets and brothels, they had time to mold her. Her description, light African girl, was foreign for the region she had come from and would get the traffickers top dollar when the time came. It might take years before they received a big profit off her sale, but in the meantime she would work and become well versed in the art of sexual persuasion.

Out of nowhere Liberty and the rest of the girls were blasted with high pressure hoses, and the water was so icy that it took her breath away as it chilled her to the bone. The force was so strong it almost knocked her off her feet. As if she was a dog being washed, they sprayed until all of the dirt and grime had been removed and then left her shaking uncontrollably with nothing to keep her warm. She covered her privates as best as she could with her small hands as the men began to split the girls up into groups. They were being ranked, categorized . . . a price invisibly tagged on their toes. When they got to her, Liberty dropped her head shamefully, but the male trafficker that looked down at her smiled in satisfaction.

“A mulatto,” he whispered, knowing that Liberty had the blood of a white man somewhere in her African heritage. “Start her on the street. If she does well, upgrade her to the brothels. Keep her well. As she grows older her value will increase. No track marks! No scars! No diseases!” the man shouted, ordering the packaging and handling instructions for Liberty.

She was shoved out of the line and into a circle with the other kids that were to be put into street prostitution.

Everyone worked. That was the rule. If you didn’t work, you didn’t eat and Liberty was quickly learning that. As the hunger pangs gripped her stomach, she watched the other children eat. Most of them had fallen into submission fairly easily, but Liberty protested each and every time she was put on the corner. They lived out of a warehouse that had been sectioned off and split into different rooms. The children serviced every type of client, and even the little boys were expected to earn their keep. Being turned out before they even hit puberty, little boys were put on the track to attract pedophiles. Some of the young boys were even dressed like women, wearing short skirts with tape concealing their genitals, accessorized with half tops . . . being turned into transvestites before they even knew what sexuality was. Liberty lived in a sex-filled world that terrified her . . . one that she refused to participate in willingly. She was too beautiful to strike so the traffickers starved her as punishment, and it had gotten to the point where she was dry heaving uncontrollably from the empty feeling in her stomach. Two weeks had passed and her body was so weak that she lay curled in a ball of pain. The only thing that she had consumed was the dirty water that she caught in a bucket as it leaked through the warehouse roof. The time passed gruesomely slow as she cried endlessly, wishing that death would come for her. The sound of locks clicking let her know that someone was entering her room. She lifted her eyes to the door and noticed a woman enter the room. The male workers that ran the street operation stood behind her, and she raised her hand in dismissal.

“Leave me alone with her,” the woman stated.

She walked over to Liberty, her high heels clicking across the floor.

Liberty cowered and closed her eyes, expecting the worst.

“I’m not here to hurt you, little girl,” the woman stated. “Get up.”

Liberty’s small arms trembled as she pushed against the floor to lift herself.

“When is the last time you’ve eaten?” the woman asked.

“I . . . I . . . can’t remember,” Liberty said honestly. Her sunken eyes and bony frame caused a tear to roll down the woman’s face. Human trafficking was a system of manipulation. Liberty didn’t know that the young woman before her used to be in her shoes. Stolen from her home in Dubai, the young woman had moved her way up the ranks. From street whore, to brothel worker, to Madame, she had slept her way out of the misery. Now she helped to manipulate the other little girls that entered the business. Grateful for the dim light, she quickly wiped the tear away as she pulled a cigarette from her clutch. She lit it and slowly sucked in the nicotine, staining the tip in M.A.C. Viva Glam plum as she held the cancer stick between two seductive fingers. She walked to the door and snapped her fingers, immediately summoning a worker in the warehouse.

“Bring me food for her . . . good food. Go out and get a burger and fries,” she instructed.

“She doesn’t work, she doesn’t eat,” the man replied sternly.

“If she doesn’t eat, she can’t work, you imbecile. Look at her. Do you think anyone is going to pay to be with her in that condition?” the woman seethed. She was only twenty-four years old, but she was a veteran in the sex game. She was old news as far as the clientele was concerned . . . past her prime. She had once been the hottest name in the underworld, but her fifteen minutes had passed the moment her breasts had begun to require an underwire. She had become old news while girls like Liberty were on the rise. The worker reluctantly followed her orders, and she focused her attention back to Liberty.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Liberty,” she replied timidly.

“I’m Abia,” the woman answered.

“Where’s A’shai?” Liberty whispered. “I just want Shai.”

“A’shai? Is that your brother?” Abia asked curiously.

Liberty shook her head.

“He came here with you?” she asked.

“They split us up! He said he would always protect me,” Liberty answered. “Where is he?”

Abia noticed the look of infatuation in Liberty’s eyes. She recognized the love. “You love this boy?” Abia said in shock, as she silently wondered what a little girl so young knew about love. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“He’s my friend!” Liberty shouted.

“I’m sorry that they took him away from you,” Abia replied as she took a drag on her cigarette. A knock at the steel door announced the arrival of Liberty’s meal. Abia retrieved it and then gave it to Liberty. She tore open the food, desperately stuffing it into her mouth, barely tasting it before she swallowed it quickly before they decided to take it away. “You have to forget about your past life, Liberty. You’re here now, and all you can do is make the best of it. The only way to make it better is to work your way up. You’re young, but you have to earn your stripes, Liberty. Work hard and eventually you will be upgraded to a higher, more sophisticated level of this business,” Abia explained.

Liberty sat silently, feeling helpless. “I just want to go home,” she whispered, referring to her old village as she thought of the family she had lost.

“This is your home now,” Abia hissed. “And you better get used to it. The sooner you start following the rules, the easier it will be. They will only tolerate your disobedience for so long before you aren’t worth the trouble. You can do this and be a part of this or do nothing at all,” Abia said as she sliced one finger across her neck as if it were a sharp knife. “Do you understand?”

Liberty nodded, quickly knowing exactly what Abia meant. They would kill her if she didn’t comply and assimilate to the way that things were done. Liberty’s eyes misted as she watched Abia walk out of the room. She was the most beautiful woman Liberty had ever met, but Liberty was disgusted by her ugly soul. She listened as the clicking of Abia’s stiletto heels echoed down the hall until the sound disappeared. She tucked her knees to her chest and laid her head on top of them as she cried a river. To survive she was going to have to sell her soul to the devil. Young Liberty may have given up on GOD, but she knew that the devil was real because she was living in hell.

Six months had passed and A’shai was getting used to the routine. He and a crew of other young field workers hid behind the dumpster in the inner city of Tijuana. It was another hustle of the Mexican cartel. They had the youth target the tourists in the area. They were trained to point out and rob Americans with money. It was just another day in the life, and A’shai scoped the busy city street for potential victims. What at first seemed cruel had become a way of life for the young workers, and A’shai somewhat adapted to the working conditions in the cocaine fields and on the streets. For some of the workers, the cocaine fields provided a better living than in their native countries where poverty was an everyday lifestyle. The Mexican cartel ran the governmental structure in Tijuana, so there wasn’t any means of help. Life was what it was . . . hell.

As the boys hid behind the oversized dumpster, they watched as the wealthy American tourists walked the small strip were the local shops were located. They were looking for a mark that seemed to have money so that they could snatch a bag or purse. The field workers would do this every weekend in hopes of hitting a jackpot. A’shai was the youngest of the boys, but he was the fastest so they usually made him do the actual snatching.

“You see those diamonds?” the eldest said after they saw a beautiful woman come out of one of the shops. She was dipped in diamonds and blinged as the sun hit her ring, bracelet, and necklace. She had a fair complexion and her slim body was immaculate. She looked like she could be a famous super-model, and with the kind of jewelry she had on, she just might have been.

“Shai, she is the one. I bet you she has tons of money de’ purse,” the Haitian boy said in a heavy accent.

“I got it. I got it,” A’shai said as he stared at the potential victim.

A’shai nodded his head as he rubbed his hands together, waiting for the right time. He came from behind the dumpster and began to walk towards her. A’shai put his hands in his pockets, trying to look as natural as possible as he neared the unsuspecting woman. His heart began to beat fast as he approached the woman who held her purse in one hand and a shopping bag in the other. He felt the adrenaline kick in and that’s when he went for it. He ran up to the lady and snatched both bags from her hands and took off towards the alley where his accomplices were waiting.

“Hey! Come back here!” the lady yelled just before pulling off her stilettos to give chase. A’shai was running full speed as the boys cheered him on, but he stepped in a pothole in the road and twisted his ankle, drastically slowing him. He grimaced in pain and hobbled to the alley, giving the woman time to gain on him. Once he reached the alley, the lady had caught up with him and grabbed him by the back of his collar. The other boys emerged from behind the dumpster.

“Well, hello there, pretty gal,” one Haitian field worker said as he circled the lady.

“I just want my things back,” she said as she released her grip on A’shai. The Haitian boy began to fondle the woman, grabbing her butt and laughing as the other boys began to circle her also. A’shai stepped back unsure of what was going on. He just wanted her belongings, nothing more nothing less.

“What you want to give me for de’ purse?” the Haitian boy asked as he looked at her with lustful eyes. He was the leader so the other boys followed suit and began to touch the lady inappropriately. She cringed and closed her blouse that showed a small portion of her cleavage.

“You can have the purse. I just want to leave,” the woman said, backing down as she tried to exit the alley. The Haitian boy jumped in her path, stopping her.

“Why you rushing off? Let’s have some real fun,” he said as he grabbed his crotch and laughed sinisterly.

“Yo, what the fuck is going on? Let her go,” A’shai said as he realized their intentions. He didn’t want to sexually assault the woman in any form or fashion.

“Stop being a pussy, Shai,” another boy said as he stepped forward.

“Let’s just take the purse and go, man,” A’shai pleaded. The other boys had already planned what they were going to do to the American beauty, and they weren’t letting A’shai get in the way. Two of the boys grabbed A’shai and held him back while the other two began to rip off the woman’s clothes. “Let her go!!” A’shai screamed as he tried to shake loose from their grasp. They were much too strong for A’shai’s small frame. They managed to rip the woman’s shirt completely off exposing her breasts and they muffled both her and A’shai’s mouths as they prepared to rape her. The woman looked at A’shai, and both of them had tears in their eyes as they knew what heinous act was about to happen. There was a brief moment of silence just before the big boom. The sound of a gun being blasted echoed through the alleyway and blood splattered against the brick wall along with the young Haitian boy’s brain. A tall slender black man stood holding the gun with a cigar hanging from his mouth. He was dark, well-built, and sported a $3,000 suit. Everyone jumped at the sound of the blast. The man was Baron Montgomery, the victim’s husband and one of the biggest drug lords in the Midwestern states. He quickly grabbed the other boy that was abusing his wife and flung him like a rag doll against the building. Pure rage was written all over Baron’s face as he caught the hoodlums trying to violate his wife. The other kids scrambled to get away but Baron let off another round into the air. “If anybody moves, I’m blowing their fucking heads off! Everybody get against the fucking wall,” he demanded as his eyes were bloodshot red as anger overcame him. He knelt down and helped up his wife.

“Are you okay, Willow?” he asked as he took off his jacket and covered her up. She shook her head yes as she wiped her tears away. “I want you to see something baby,” he whispered as he ran his hand through her hair and then gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Line up against the wall,” Baron ordered as he turned his attention to the remaining three boys, including A’shai. He walked over to them and took a puff off his cigar. He then dropped it to the ground and stepped on it. “Do you know who the fuck I am?” he asked one of the young boys as he stood in front of him. Before the boy could answer, Baron pointed the gun to his head and squeezed the trigger, rocking him to sleep forever. His blood and brains splattered against the wall as his body fell limp and he eventually collapsed face down. A’shai and the last boy were petrified as they began to plead but Baron didn’t care. He put the gun to A’shai’s head and told him. “If you believe in a GOD, you better pray to him right now. Say your peace,” he said as he tightened his grip on the gun.

“Baron, wait! He tried to help me. It was the others who tried to rape me. Leave him be,” his wife said.

“Are you sure?” he asked as he looked back at her.

“Yes, I’m positive. He was the one trying to stop them,” she said as she looked into A’shai’s young eyes. Baron then pointed his gun at the other boy and fired two into his chest with no remorse. He put the smoking gun on his waist and looked at A’shai whose knees were trembling.

“Thanks for what you did for my wife, lil man,” Baron said as he smiled trying to ease the kid’s fear. He reached into his pocket and pulled out five crispy bills and handed them to A’shai who waved his hand rejecting the offer.

“I’m good. I didn’t like these mu’fuckas anyway,” he said as he looked down at their bodies. “Can I go?” he asked as he looked up at Baron.

“Yeah, you can go,” Baron confirmed as he grinned at the wit of the youngster that stood before him. A’shai turned around and headed down the alley so that he could return to the fields. Baron and his wife watched him walk away. However, something in Willow’s heart told her to stop him.

“Hey!” she yelled out. A’shai stopped and turned around. “Let us buy you dinner,” she said, feeling that she had to repay him for his bravery to go against his friends for her honor. The sound of somebody giving A’shai free food was too good of an offer to let pass, and he headed back their way.

Baron and Willow watched as the kid in front of them stuffed his face like it was his last meal. They encouraged him to order anything he wanted and four different entrees were in front of him. A’shai didn’t once look up and think about how barbaric he looked in front of total strangers. The Mexican restaurant was the most elegant one on Tijuana’s downtown resort. It was one of very few upscale spots in the dilapidated town. A’shai had never seen anything like it and the food was the best he had ever had. He had already stuffed four rolls into his pocket, knowing that they would come in handy later.

“Slow down,” Willow said as she burst into laughter. She looked at Baron who was also laughing at the young boy and that’s when A’shai finally looked up. He had sauce all around his mouth and on his fingertips as he ate the food like a madman.

“What?” A’shai asked as an odd moment of silence filled the air. Baron and Willow just looked at him, both with grins on their faces.

“Nothing. So tell me, where are your parents?” Baron asked as he folded his hands on top of the table. A’shai focused back on his food and began to eat.

“I don’t have any parents,” he said as he thought about his deceased mother and his estranged father back in Sierra Leone. “I don’t need any parents. I can take care of myself,” A’shai said as he avoided eye contact with Baron.

“I can tell that you’re not from around here. Your accent is too strong,” Baron said noticing the strong African roots in the boy.

“I’m from Sierra Leone!” A’shai said proudly as he stuck out his chest and looked at Baron with clenched teeth. Willow’s heart immediately dropped at the sound of the place because it was her homeland; she, too, was from the impoverished country. Willow reached over and rubbed A’shai’s facial scar.

“How did you get that?” she asked hoping not to hear the kind of horror story that comes with having bad scars.

“It’s nothing. Just a little scratch,” A’shai said as he blew it off. A’shai began to grow uncomfortable with all of the questions and then he noticed that the sun was going down. He knew that he had to return to the warehouse before dark or risk being beaten. “Thank you for giving me dinner, but I have to go now,” he said urgently as he stood up. The thought of being late and being punished made A’shai’s limbs shake and he began to grow nervous. Baron caught on.

“Are you okay, lil man?” he asked as he frowned at the sudden change of behavior.

“Yeah, I just have to go before they notice that I’m gone,” he said. Willow began to tear up as she thought about her childhood. She, too, was a human slave as a teen, but was lucky enough to have met Baron in the same town that they were in, Tijuana. They always came back to Tijuana on their anniversary to celebrate the day that he met her and purchased her freedom from El Garza. It may have seemed like an odd tradition, but Willow actually found peace by revisiting the place that she had been rescued from. She never wanted to forget where she had come from. It was therapeutic for her in a way. Each year she left a little bit of her painful past in Tijuana instead of allowing it to weigh down her heart. Baron was one of the most successful businessmen and drug kingpins in the Midwest, and El Garza valued their working relationship. Working for a man who trafficked humans initially turned him off, especially after rescuing Willow from his clutches, but he used his position of power to his advantage. Willow urged him to get the money and to continue to profit off El Garza, but she always made sure to give back. She opened a safe center in Tijuana for the women and children who were able to escape the modern day slave system . . . all with money that El Garza helped her husband make. So instead of Tijuana being a bad place with bad memories . . . to her it was a place that needed her presence and one that reminded her to cherish her freedom. Willow knew that A’shai was in the same boat she had been in years ago. Baron also picked up on it.

“Listen, do you work for the Garza family? You can tell me,” Baron said as he stood up and walked around the table to A’shai. A’shai nodded his head yes.

“He is an old friend of mine. We should go have a talk with him,” Baron said as he placed his hand on A’shai’s shoulder. Baron was actually in town to discuss business with the Garza family and negotiate better cocaine prices. He had a great business relationship with the family and was sure that he could work out something.

They left the restaurant and headed over to the Garza warehouse. A’shai told them the truth about how he got to Tijuana, and it nearly brought both Willow and Baron to tears. Baron and Willow decided at that point that A’shai would return to the States with them. They had no children of their own, and it seemed like fate brought them to A’shai. Willow, because of earlier sexual abuse, was unable to have kids, so she was open to taking in A’shai. The fact that A’shai was from her homeland made bringing him home with them even more special to her. A’shai connected Willow to her roots, and Baron understood that. When he looked in A’shai’s eyes he saw the eye of the tiger. They both fell in love with the young boy in that brief meeting, and the rest was history. A’shai left on Baron’s private jet back to Detroit, Michigan with them that night. He had been one of the lucky ones. He had found a way out, however, Liberty’s fate wouldn’t have the same storybook ending.

* * *

The clanging of chains being unlocked awoke Liberty from her restless sleep as two of the workers entered her room and closed the door behind them.

“Be the lookout. Once I’m done you can take your turn,” one of the men said as a slight bulge appeared inside his pants. Liberty scurried to the corner of the room and cowered as the man removed his gun holster and lay it gently near the door. “I’m going to make a woman out of you,” the man said as he grabbed Liberty roughly and flung her fragile body onto the steel frame that served as a bed.

“No!” she shouted, seeing the same ill intent in this man’s eyes as she had seen in Ezekiel’s. Her feet went flying in the air and her fingers clawed at his face as he climbed atop of her, manhandling her into submission. She had no strength, but she came out like a lioness cub to protect herself. The scent of the man as he weighed her down with his body made her stomach turn and as his hands roughly parted her thighs, he forced his tongue into her mouth. Liberty bit down as hard as she could, drawing blood.

“Agh!” the man screamed as he brought his hand to his mouth in disbelief. “You bitch!” he screamed hysterically. The blow that followed made Liberty’s neck snap so violently to the side that she feared her neck had broken. Dazed, her head fell back onto the bed and her body went limp momentarily. The room became hazy as she felt the man ripping her clothes from her body. She fought him, removing his hands from her body, but he was too strong for her. Determined to snatch her virginity away he entered her roughly. He penetrated her with so much force that he broke her pelvic bone. The pain was too much for Liberty to bear, and her body went completely limp as she gave up. She realized that no matter what she did, she could not stop this and the more she fought the more he hurt her. So she lay still as endless tears rolled down her cheeks, allowing herself to go far away to a state of mind where no one could touch her . . . withdrawing within herself so deeply that she found peace despite the evil going on around her.