by Sibel Hodge
I wanted to die inside. I wanted to scream, “YES,” from the top of my lungs. I wanted to clutch their legs and beg them to take me away. But Paul was in the very room. What could we say?
Paul was purple with rage when they left, and all of the girls were subject to kicks and bodily punches. He went lightly on me because he does not want the Millionaires’ Club men to ask too many questions.
But I am the most angry, and I do not have the satisfaction of venting my anger. I can only turn it inward and fester.
I have had enough of being an actress trapped in a victim’s body.
I tug at my hair until clumps of it are coming out at the roots. I bite the inside of my cheeks until I taste metallic blood. I gnaw on my fingernails until they hurt.
The police know this is a brothel so why don’t they shut it down? Isn’t it illegal here? They do not care.
I feel defeated. Is there no end to this torment?
Day 97
Still the police do nothing. Jamie has been to see his friend many times, but the answer is the same: They cannot do anything without evidence. Jamie cannot make a statement to them about the things I said until Liliana is safe, so they have no evidence. I am in a catch 22 situation.
Day 98
When I was a little girl, I would get so excited before my birthday. I looked forward to it for months, asking my mother all the time how many more days I would have to wait until I was another year older. It was not just the presents I anticipated with happiness – they were always small and inexpensive. No, the thing I looked forward to most was being a big girl. Because when I was a big girl, my father told me I could do anything and go anywhere I wanted; the world was full of opportunities that way. At that age I wanted to be a ballerina or a vet.
Now I am a big girl and I look forward to being raped by millionaires. It is twisted and sick, isn’t it? I look forward to seeing those men because they are cleaner than most of the men at the massage parlour. It is the one time when I can go outside and smell the fresh air. I can see the river, the stars, the sparkling lights of the city. Somehow, it gives me hope. There is a whole world that exists outside of the massage parlour, and I have a feeling somewhere in that world is an opportunity for me to get my real life back.
Day 99
Yesterday night the politician played out his sick games with me again.
And, as he thrust inside me and squeezed my throat with more vigour than before, a plan formed in my head, and I thought of two things before I lost consciousness…
If I am dead, no one can help Liliana.
I am tired of waiting.
Day 100
I need Jamie’s help to carry out my plan. Since Paul believes I am the perfect, compliant slave, he never thinks to search me before my torture with the politician in the confines of “The Millionaires’ Club.”
It was easy for Jamie to smuggle in a small video recorder when he came to see me. I have no idea how to use such modern and complicated technology, and for a minute I was scared that I could not do this. But Jamie came to my rescue, patiently showing me how to work the buttons and giving me constant reassurance. For three hours I took videos of him and then deleted them again – over and over until I could work the camera blindfolded. By the time he left I was feeling more confident.
Please let this work.
Day 101
Paul suspected nothing as he dropped me off at the apartment. It did not take me long to find the perfect hiding place for the video camera on a shelf opposite the bed.
This was my only chance, and the enormity of it gave me butterflies. I wanted to be sick, but instead I gulped cold glasses of water to settle my stomach until the politician arrived.
I checked the digital clock by the bed for the millionth time, waiting for the agonizingly slow minutes to pass until he arrived.
When he finally rang the doorbell, I double-checked the position of the camera with shaky fingers and set it to record.
I have had a long time to perfect my acting skills. Now they will be put to the test.
I did not dare watch the video when I arrived back at the massage parlour. Instead, I hid it beneath a loose floorboard under the carpet in my bedroom. I pray that I managed to work it properly, and that every sick thing he did to me is captured clearly.
Day 106
The wheels of justice turn quickly when you have the weight of blackmail behind you. So much has happened that thoughts are jumbling around in my head all at once. I will try and start at the beginning.
After Jamie smuggled the video out of the massage parlour, his policeman friend managed to arrange a private meeting between Jamie and the politician.
From what I understand, the politician used his contacts to order a raid on the massage parlour. Everyone was taken into custody at the police station. I was kept in a cell on my own for four hours before a lady from the Moldovan Embassy called Katya came to see me.
Through the deluge of tears, I told her my story, and that I needed Liliana to be safe before I could make a statement about what had happened to me. I was scared that she would not believe me. To some people, the story would seem so unreal that it must be complete fabrication. But she did believe me. I saw the tears in her eyes, too, as she took notes, comforted me, and tried to keep her own composure. I did not mention the politician, but she said the police have been instructed by powers “high up” to assist me in every way they can.
Katya told me that the Foreign Minister had somehow heard of my story and was pulling strings with the Immigration Department in Britain and the government in Moldova. They would be searching for Liliana immediately.
She also told me the British Immigration Department were issuing a temporary visa for me. If I was willing to give evidence against the traffickers, they would grant a full visa so I could stay here.
‘It is very unusual,’ Katya said, ‘that the Foreign Office and Immigration Department should go to this much trouble. I have never seen it happen like this before.’
I just nodded at her, as if I were unaware of this, and asked her more questions.
I had been in the police cell for twenty-four hours when Katya came to see me again.
‘We have found Liliana,’ she said breathlessly, enveloping me in a hug as a cry like a wounded animal escaped from my lips and I collapsed to the floor.
When I could get my breath back, she told me that Liliana had not been living with Natalia. That was a lie by the Rapist and the others to coerce me. Liliana had been in a state orphanage all this time. Katya told me that since I could not leave the country at the moment, under the circumstances, the British government would be willing to allow Liliana to be flown here to me and would even pay for the airfare.
I was kept in the police station for another twenty-four hours for my own safety. I was told that Paul was still in custody, but none of the other girls had spoken out about being trafficked. They would be relying on my statement to prosecute him.
The enormous weight of this settled on my chest and I could not breathe, but one thought kept me strong. I was determined that he and the others should never be able to do this to anyone else.
For the first time in 106 days, I was in control.
Jamie was allowed to visit me and again I broke down. All the aggression, hurt, tears, anger, degradation, shame…it all came to the surface and exploded. Just like before, he held me in his arms and rocked me, without asking for anything from me in return.
It is strange, but part of me feels love towards him for that. I did not think that I would ever be able to feel anything for anybody again. I thought I would be emotionally dead, but over this time we have built up a friendship that is beyond explainable. I trust this man. I believe he is a good person, and part of me loves him for not giving up on me. Without him, I would still be in that place. I owe him my life.
And Jamie’s help never seems to end. He offered to fly to Moldova to bring Liliana back with him on the plane so she will not be alone and frighte
ned. He sat with me while I wrote a letter to her to read on her journey so she knows she is coming to see me and will not be scared.
For a third day, they kept me in custody for my protection, but I did not mind. It was still a cell, but it was a halfway home to freedom.
I was not released from custody until Liliana was on the aeroplane to Britain. The thought of seeing her again made my throat constrict. Katya had been told by the Maldovan authorities that they had accompanied Liliana and Jamie onto the plane and it had taken off on time.
I was finally released under a police escort, and along with Katya, we travelled to Gatwick Airport with tense excitement.
I craned my neck at the arrivals area, waiting for the slightest glimpse of my beautiful Liliana. Suddenly she appeared, her little hand held tight in Jamie’s. And then she was running towards me.
I picked up my baby girl and held her tight. Squeezing her to me as the tears snaked down my cheeks and landed on her hair. She wrapped her legs around my waist and rested her head on my shoulder.
‘Where have you been, Mummy?’ she said.
Words that broke my heart.
Day 107
My new home is in a hostel for vulnerable women. There are many women like me here. I know; I can see it in their eyes. Although everyone is friendly, most of them find it too raw to talk about how they came to be here. We are all in the same situation: adjusting our lives in the hope we can mend and become whole again.
Children adapt to things quickly. I wish I could, too. Liliana has not mentioned the orphanage, and I do not want to pressure her to talk about it in case it makes her scared or unhappy. She hugs Ivan close to her chest and follows me everywhere I go, chatting constantly like she has been deprived of speech since I last saw her. She is inquisitive about this new country…
‘Will I meet the Queen?’; ‘Why are we here?’; ‘Who are the other ladies here?’; ‘Why is your hair falling out?’
She seems happy and contented just to be with me again, but she is sad when we talk about my mother.
I miss her and so does Liliana. I want to visit her grave and say goodbye properly, but I cannot go there. What if the Rapist and the others find me and take me back? I do not know if I can ever go back to Moldova. So instead, my mother will forever be alive in my heart and in my memories. Just like my father and Stefan.
Although the hostel is in a secret location, I do not go out alone. Paul is still in custody, but I worry that he could get someone to find us. This is what my life will be like from now on. I am free, but will I ever truly live as a free person?
I do not sleep well. Noises like the banging of a car door or shouting outside late at night frighten me. I wake up with my heart pounding, threatening to explode out of my chest. Liliana sleeps in my arms on the small bed we share. I do not have much, but it is enough.
We are together and that is all that matters.
Six Months Later
I am living one day at a time, but at least I am living.
Liliana and I now have a British visa to stay here, and I live in a small two-bedroom apartment with a security entrance. It has a balcony, overlooking a park. I love to stand on the safety of the balcony and stare at the outdoors. I relish the feeling of the sun on my cheeks as I take deep gulps of fresh air. It is little things like this I have come to appreciate.
I am still scared every day. I look over my shoulder all the time whenever I go out, and as one hand grips Liliana’s tightly, the other is firmly pressed around a can of pepper spray in my pocket. I have nightmares every night. I am being chased and people are trying to kill me. When I wake up, it takes me a long time to get back to sleep, even though I feel the reassuring touch of the knife under my pillow. Although we have two bedrooms, Liliana and I both sleep in the same one, our arms wrapped around each other’s, like how I used to sleep with Stefan. I do not want to let her go. She sleeps deep enough not to hear my nightmares, but she complains that I never let her out of my sight.
I have a job now as a volunteer. I work with other women who have been trafficked, and try to help them. I think it will aid my healing process, too. I remember my father’s words every day. He whispers in my ear that I should do something special with my life in England. I think he would be proud of me.
I see Jamie several times a week. We take Liliana to the park or cinema, or just sit and chat. Liliana is in love with Whiskers. Jamie is my best friend and I treasure that friendship. Maybe one day it will become more, but I cannot think of that now. Little by little, second by second I am getting better. Over time I can only hope the internal and external scars will fade, although I know they will never disappear. I have been offered counselling but I do not want to talk about what happened with someone who can never truly understand what it is like. The best therapy for me is to try and help the others.
I now have hope in the future, and for that I must thank Jamie and Katya.
I still have a copy of the video and it is my security in this new world I am living in.
The trial will be starting soon. The lawyers have told me Paul will be sent to prison, and the Italian and Moldovan police are working in conjunction with the British police to prosecute the Rapist, Natalia, Andrei, Angelina and the rest of that gang. But what about the other traffickers in the world?
I am one of the lucky ones who managed to escape. There are thousands out there who have not.
Organisations who deal with human trafficking:
http://www.sophiehayesfoundation.org/
http://www.stopthetraffik.org/language.aspx
http://www.acf.hhs.gov/trafficking/
http://www.humantrafficking.org/
http://www.eaves4women.co.uk/POPPY_Project.php
http://www.gems-girls.org/about
http://www.endhumantraffickingnow.com/
A note from the author:
I normally write chick lit books, so this novella is something very different for me, but it’s a story that needs to be told.
About five years ago I watched a mini series about girls from Eastern Europe who’d been trafficked. It haunted me for a long time, and then gradually it faded from my mind and I got on with my life. Then a little while ago I was sitting in a doctor’s surgery waiting for an appointment and picked up a magazine. Inside, was the story of one women who’d been trafficked. It made a chill run through me, and I realized that in those five years, I’d never heard anything in the media about it.
That got me thinking, and I started researching other victim’s stories online. They were horrific, heart breaking, gut wrenching, and I knew this was a subject that, despite being such a global problem, a lot of people are unaware goes on. I really wanted to do something to raise awareness into the subject and Trafficked: The Diary of a Sex Slave was born.
Although the book is fictional, it’s inspired by these victim’s stories, and is a very sad global reality. In 2007 the US Department of State carried out a Trafficking in Persons report. The statistics shocked me to the core: 700,000-800,000 men, women and children trafficked across international borders each year, approximately 80% of which are women and girls, and up to 50% are minors. The figures will be a lot higher four years on.
And one of the truly scary things is, most people think it only affects third world countries, but it’s going on right under your nose. The US Department of State estimated 14,500 to 17,500 foreign nationals are trafficked into the United States alone each year.
I wanted Trafficked to be gritty, hard hitting, and tear-jerking. And I wanted it to make people really stop and think about this subject. I chose to write it in the form of a diary so the reader really feels every emotion – the fear, beatings, horror, desperation, hope, and faith. I wanted you to experience the ordeal through the eyes of all the Elenas out there.
Also by Sibel Hodge
Fourteen Days Later
The Fashion Police
My Perfect Wedding
Be Careful What You Wish For
The Baby Tra
p
Voodoo Deadly
How to Dump Your Boyfriend in the Men’s Room (and other short stories)
About the author
Sibel Hodge has dual British/Turkish Cypriot nationality and divides her time between Hertfordshire and North Cyprus. Her first romantic-comedy novel, Fourteen Days Later, was shortlisted for the Harry Bowling Prize 2008 and received a Highly Commended by the Yeovil Literary Prize 2009. My Perfect Wedding is the sequel to Fourteen Days Later, although it can be read as a standalone novel.
The Fashion Police is a chicklit comedy-mystery novel, the first in the series featuring feisty, larger-than-life, Amber Fox. It was runner-up in the Chapter One Promotions Novel Competition 2010 and nominated Best Novel with Romantic Elements 2010 by The Romance Reviews. Be Careful What You Wish For is the second Amber Fox murder mystery.
Based on her own experiences with infertility and two attempts at IVF, The Baby Trap will have you laughing and crying at the ups and downs of modern baby-making.