Trafficked: The Terrifying True Story of a British Girl Forced into the Sex Trade

by Sophie Hayes

  ‘Do you think I’m asking you?’ he barked at me, and I could almost see the rage flaring up inside him like a flame. ‘Don’t you realise how easy it would be for me to get you out of this country if I wanted to? How simple it would be to inject you with a drug that made you unconscious, throw you into the back of a lorry and have you out of England before anyone even noticed you were missing.’

  He’d said much the same thing to me before, and I knew that it was true.

  ‘Think about it,’ he told me. ‘I’m not an unreasonable man, so I’ll give you some time to decide which way you’d rather do this. I’ll be back tomorrow.’ Then he opened the front door and walked out of the flat, and I curled up on the sofa and wept.

  Kas didn’t come back the next night or the night after that, although he phoned several times to remind me he was watching me. And by the time I heard Erion’s key turn in the lock of my front door late one night, I’d realised I couldn’t fight Kas on my own and I told him what had happened.

  ‘Right, I’m phoning your mum,’ Erion said immediately. ‘Why on earth didn’t you tell me about this before? Why do you shut me out so that I can’t help you? Why do you shut everyone out when it’s clear you need help?’

  ‘You can’t phone her now,’ I told him tearfully. ‘It’s two o’clock in the morning. She can’t do anything at this time of night except worry. Please, please, Erion, let me tell her when I think the moment is right.’

  So he agreed to wait and although he fell asleep with his arms wrapped round me, I knew that by shutting him out, I’d risked losing him.

  I had to go to a work meeting in London the next day, and as I sat on the train, staring blindly at the world speeding past the window, I felt as though I was trapped in a vortex, spinning faster and faster and waiting for the moment when it would spew me out and I’d have to try to land on my feet.

  It was about 11.30 that morning when my phone buzzed and Robin’s number flashed up on the screen. The meeting had already started, so I muttered an apology, said something about having to take ‘this important call’ and walked out of the room into the hallway.

  ‘I’ve just had a conference call with your mum and Erion,’ Robin told me. ‘Erion’s told us everything. Jesus, Sophie, why didn’t you tell someone sooner? You could have come to me, you know. Why didn’t you phone me?’

  ‘I thought I could manage it on my own,’ I said, and the words sounded stupid, even to me.

  ‘Then you clearly haven’t understood just what you’re messing with,’ Robin sighed, echoing the words Erion had used when I’d told him what had happened. ‘You can have no idea what you’re involved with or the danger you’re in, otherwise you’d know that you can’t deal with this on your own. I do understand, though,’ he added more gently. ‘I know that you’re so deeply involved in it that you’re unable to take that step backwards that would allow you to see the situation as anyone else might see it. But the thing you have to understand, Sophie, is that you will never win against a man like that. He doesn’t play by the rules that govern what normal people do – people like you and me. He makes up his own rules, which are based on just one immutable fact: no one and nothing matters to him except himself and what he wants. You have to let me take charge of this now.’

  It was what I’d often thought about Kas myself and I realised, with relief, that Robin was right. Until that moment, I’d thought I was the only person who understood what Kas was capable of and how his megalomania and delusions of self-importance guided all his actions. But the truth was that I was so afraid of him, I was the very last person in the world who should be trying to stand up against him.

  As soon as I finishing speaking to Robin, I got a text message from Erion, saying, ‘I’m sorry. But even if you never speak to me again for the rest of your life, I had to do this. You may hate me, but I did it for you.’ I wiped my sleeve through the tears that were streaming down my face, and then my phone rang again.

  I could tell as soon as I heard my mother’s voice that she was almost frantic with worry. She told me later that she’ll never forget Erion’s phone call that day or how devastated and heartbroken he sounded, and that she’ll always be grateful to him for making the decision to tell her. She’d phoned Robin immediately, and in their conference call a few minutes later, Erion had told them, ‘I realise now that I’ve seen him in a coffee shop and I know I can’t just stand by and do nothing. If no one else can stop him, I’m going to do it myself.’

  ‘I understand how you feel, but, please, don’t do anything,’ Robin had said. ‘We haven’t been able to take any action while he was in Italy and while Sophie didn’t want to press charges against him, but it’s out of her hands now that he’s here. She’s going to have to leave Leeds for a while to give me time to work something out.’

  Somehow, I managed to get through the rest of the day in London and when I arrived back in Leeds the following afternoon, my mother met me at my flat. Within two hours we’d cleared everything out of it. My boss already knew something was going on and when I went into work to tell her I had to leave, she was brilliant. ‘Just go,’ she told me. ‘Do what you have to do and I’ll sort everything out here. I’m sure we can find a way for you to work from home.’ So, once again, I left my life in Leeds, this time to go home with my mother and wait to hear from Robin.

  A long time later, Erion told me that a couple of days after I’d gone home, he’d been walking through the city centre with a friend when they’d been stopped by a man who was a friend of Erion’s friend and who introduced the man he was with as Kas. Erion was horrified, but he’d been forced to shake Kas’s hand – for the sake of appearances, so that he didn’t give away the fact that he knew who he was – and he’d had to look away so that Kas wouldn’t see the anger and hatred in his eyes. I don’t suppose Kas would have noticed, though, because I’m sure he was still blissfully unaware that I’d told anyone what he’d done to me or that he had come back to Leeds to find me.

  Erion often went to a coffee shop that was popular with Albanians and other Eastern Europeans, which is where he heard that Kas had become friendly with a long-distance lorry driver. ‘It isn’t just a chance friendship,’ Erion told my mother. ‘He’s planning to take Sophie. However afraid she is, she still has no idea of the danger she’s really in – she can’t deal with someone like that on her own.’

  A couple of days later, Robin rang me and said, ‘We need to get you out of the country for a few days, so we’ve arranged for you to stay at a “safe house” in Germany, with some relatives of someone who works for STOP THE TRAFFIK. You need to disappear. Change your phone number and don’t write anything on any internet site – which means not even logging on to MySpace or Facebook, or anything similar. Close your accounts if necessary. Shut everything down.’

  So I did as he told me, and 48 hours later, I was on a plane, being swept along on a tidal wave and wondering where on earth it was going to take me.

  Chapter 15

  The German couple I stayed with were very kind to me. I shopped and cooked with the wife and went out on my own for long bike rides in the countryside, and when I’d been there for three days, Robin phoned and said, ‘You don’t need to worry anymore. We’ve got him.’

  I burst into tears and all the fear and anxiety that had been building up inside me for so long exploded out of me like the air rushing out of a pricked balloon. At first, all I could say was ‘Thank you. Thank you.’ But eventually I calmed down enough for Robin to be able to tell me what had happened.

  Apparently, after I’d left Leeds, the police had stopped and searched Kas in an area frequented by drug dealers. He’d been carrying several passports, all issued in different countries in different names and all with his photograph, and when he was arrested and fingerprinted, his existing arrest warrant for the attempted shooting had been flagged up.

  I returned to England a week later and, not long afterwards, Kas was sentenced to a year in prison, to be followed by deportati
on to Albania.

  It felt as though the hand that had been gripping my throat for so long had been removed and I could breathe again. I didn’t have to be afraid of my own shadow anymore, and I didn’t have to look over my shoulder all the time, although I don’t know if I’ll ever manage to break that habit completely. Even now, I jump at every loud noise and flinch if anyone raises a hand near me for any reason.

  Even after Kas had gone to prison, I’d still sometimes search the internet for any mention of his name or for any sign that might indicate he was active again – partly because finding nothing allowed me to go to bed at night feeling secure. And then, one day just before Christmas, about eight months after he’d gone to prison, I looked on the social networking site he used to use and found that the ‘last active in’ date had changed from May to December. I stared at the screen, unable to make any sense of what I was reading, and although I told myself that it was a mistake and it wasn’t possible for him to have logged on to his website just a few days earlier, I phoned Robin in a panic.

  He tried to reassure me by telling me, ‘He’s in prison, Sophie. So it can’t have been him.’

  ‘He isn’t in prison,’ I insisted, knowing that I sounded paranoid and hysterical. ‘I’m telling you, Robin. He’s out.’

  ‘Okay,’ Robin said. ‘Just to put your mind at rest, I’ll make some enquiries and then I’ll call you back.’

  And it turned out that I was right. After serving just over half his sentence, Kas had been deported back to Albania. I knew that I could no longer afford to feel safe and that if he wanted to risk coming back for me, he’d find a way. All I could do was hope he’d decide I wasn’t worth it.

  I still think about him for some reason on most days, and I sometimes wonder if he’s doing the same thing to some other poor girl, and pray that he isn’t. People tell me they understand why I can’t bring myself to give evidence against him and that they wouldn’t expect anyone in my position to put themselves through such a terrible ordeal, particularly without any guarantee that he’d be convicted. But I still feel really guilty about it, and I wish I was braver.

  Moving back to live with my mother, stepfather and sister that summer was the best thing I could possibly have done. I spent almost all my time with Emily, and I know that, without her and Mum’s support, I’d never have got anywhere close to being back on track and able to do ‘normal’ things again. My boss at work continued to be brilliant too, and to organise things so that I could carry on working from home. And then, not long after I came home from Germany, I accepted a transfer to the London office and the opportunity to start again somewhere new.

  Erion and I saw each other occasionally, but, over the years since we first met and fell in love, our relationship had been stretched to its limits and beyond. So I suppose it was inevitable that, eventually, it would start to show signs of strain, and I think I knew even before Erion said anything to me that he could no longer cope.

  He was crying as he told me, ‘No matter what happens, I will always be here for you if you need me.’ And he’s kept his word, coming to visit me for a wonderful weekend after I’d moved to London and phoning me from time to time to ask how I am. He sent me a text message last Christmas saying, ‘I miss you. I wish we could turn back time.’ And I wish that too.

  I wish things had turned out differently and that I’d gone to Albania to marry Erion when I had the chance, because losing him is the one thing for which I know I’ll never forgive myself. But it’s too late. You can’t move forward with your life if you’re constantly looking over your shoulder – for whatever reason – and I know that what I’m wishing for is something that just isn’t there anymore. Too much has happened since we were first together; I’ve changed too much and I’m no longer the person I was when we met. But I know that Erion is the only man who has ever truly loved me, and the fact that I lost him will always make me sad.

  Occasionally, I check my old email account and a few months ago I found an email from Kas in which he said, ‘I love you. I miss you. I hope you’re happy.’ Not very long ago, reading it would have sent me into a downward spiral of fear and panic, but now I feel almost sorry for him because I know he won’t ever get even close to understanding or experiencing what love really is.

  If I came to face to face with Kas now, I’d still be frightened of him, but only because I’ve been conditioned to fear him. I’m stronger than I used to be and I’m not alone anymore, so I know he can’t hurt me, and I think I’d have the strength to say ‘Leave me alone.’

  When he came back to Leeds for me, I knew he was coming. It sounds melodramatic, but I could feel it. Even so, I was blind-sided and I wasn’t ready to deal with him. I don’t think he’ll come again, though. His only real concern in life is to protect himself, and coming here now would be risking too much – and for what?

  I used to be so desperate to believe he loved me that I almost convinced myself he did, even though his every word and action proved otherwise. But, against all the odds, I survived those months in Italy and now I’m determined not to live in fear, and particularly not to allow a man like Kas to rule my life by making me afraid. I’m stronger now and I refuse to think, I can’t do this because of him. If I am ever forced to deal with him, I’ll meet him head on and try to stand my ground against him.

  People who know about what happened to me say, ‘My God, how do you deal with things like that?’ And the only answer I can give them is, ‘You have to – there’s no choice.’ I do worry, particularly about things like doing my work well, and I always put as much effort as I possibly can into everything I do to try to ensure that I don’t fail and that people don’t think badly of me – which is perhaps still more important to me than it should be. But I try to remember to be proud of the obstacles I’ve overcome.

  What Kas did to me opened my eyes to the terrible things some people are capable of doing to others. Working with STOP THE TRAFFIK is helping me to make something positive out of what I’d thought was a totally and irretrievably negative experience, and I want to use that experience to try to help other people who haven’t been as fortunate as, ultimately, I was and to help raise awareness about people trafficking.

  It’s easy to dismiss girls who work on the streets as deadbeats or drug addicts without ever thinking about why they’re working as prostitutes. And the truth is that many of them have been trafficked and they work long, exhausting, miserable, soul-destroying hours for men who are cruel and violent. They’re constantly afraid, not just because of what might be done to them if they don’t do what they’re told, but also because of the very real threats that are made against their families and the people they love.

  What kind of person does that to another human being?

  At the moment, except when I’m giving talks for STOP THE TRAFFIK, I don’t tell people about what happened to me. I just want to be Sophie. And that means that I sometimes feel as though I’m living a double life, although I prefer to think that I’m living my life – Sophie’s life – and that I’ve left Jenna behind me in the past. Not telling people can make things difficult, though – for example, when I over-react to something and can’t explain why, such as the time someone at work fired a toy gun at me and I fell on the floor with my hands over my head, screaming.

  I’m not brave enough yet to stand up and face people and speak openly about my experiences, but I know one day – when the time is right – I will be.

  Although it’s probably difficult for anyone to guess what happened by looking at me, I still carry it with me and I still find it difficult to distinguish feelings. I broke up with a boyfriend recently after we’d been together for about a year, and the only thing that surprised me was the fact that he’d stayed with me for as long as he did. Whenever he told me he loved me, I’d ask him ‘Why? How do you know?’ – which isn’t really a response designed to make romance blossom!

  I still have to try really hard sometimes not to wish certain things were different – that I’
d gone to Albania that summer and married Erion, that I’d never met Kas, that Steve had been my real dad, and that my own father had loved me. My brother Jason said that when he told our father about Kas and what had happened to me in Italy, Dad said, ‘Let’s go and break his fucking legs.’ But he never even phoned me to find out how I was, and although I’d like to believe he said it, I think it was just my brother’s way of trying to make me feel better.

  As well as the psychological scars Kas left me with, his physical violence towards me has caused long-term back and neck problems. It was recently discovered that the headaches I keep getting are due to severe nerve damage, for which I have to have regular treatment. They start abruptly, without any warning, and are excruciatingly painful, so I’ve had to curtail some aspects of what would otherwise be my normal life. Worst of all, though, is the fact that they’re a constant reminder of Kas’s brutality towards me and of his almost-daily vicious attacks.

  On the positive side, I think I am finally learning to accept that some things can’t be changed and there’s no point wasting your life wishing they could. I often feel as though I’m climbing a ladder, at the top of which are all the good things I hope I’ll have one day – including a strong sense of self-esteem and the ability to accept love without question and to live at peace with myself. At the moment I’m only a few rungs up that ladder, and I can’t even see the top of it yet. But I know that if I keep climbing, I’ll get there in the end, however long it takes me.

  A Note from Sophie’s Mother

  When Sophie rang that day and asked about Auntie Linda, I thought my heart was going to stop. I’d known all along there was something wrong, from the moment she rang to say she wasn’t coming home and that she was going to stay in Italy with that man. I’d never met him and I had no reason to believe he didn’t treat her well. But I know my daughter, and there was something in her voice that made alarms bells start to ring in my head.