Traffick Read Online Free

Traffick
Book: Traffick Read Online Free
Author: Ellen Hopkins
Pages:
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have
    a nicer place. “Just once,
    for me. Oh, and try a little
    taste of heroin. That will make
    everything easier.” Before
    you knew it, you were hooked,
    and doing whatever you had
    to do to keep supplied.
    She has heard this story.
    How many girls like me
    there must be in the world!
    And some of them leave it
    in awful ways. At least
    Bryn didn’t hurt me, not
    physically, the way some
    pimps do. “That’s pretty
    much it,” I admit. “Then I
    found out he kept a whole
    stable of ‘models.’ I was just
    another one of his girls.”
    That stings to say. And while
    he never beat me, he scarred
    my heart. I doubt I’ll ever be
    able to trust a guy again.
    As for love, what’s the point?

I Don’t Expect Sympathy
    Okay, maybe a little. Instead,
    Naomi’s jaw stiffens like cement
    setting up, and her eyes take
    on a serious chill. Total
    transformation. Let me ask
    you this. Why would you leave
    a cushy life in a nice home,
    with a family who supported
    you? Why would you let them
    worry for months that you might
    be dead? A little selfish, yes?
    Whoa. She can be downright
    mean. Come on, RIS, think of
    something to say. “You don’t
    know anything about my family.
    All my mom cares about is her
    country club and taking my sister,
    Kyra, shopping. All my dad cares
    about is work. They probably didn’t
    even notice I was gone for a week.”
    And Kyra no doubt threw a bon
    voyage, good riddance party.
    Sometimes there’s a decent bit
    of distance between perception
    and fact, especially when it comes
    to teenagers and their parents.
    Did you ever stop to consider
    you might have been wrong?
    Not until Mom’s barrage
    of apologies in the hospital.
    Of course, Dad showed up
    all pissed and disgusted.
    And Kyra, my loving sister?
    All she cared about was
    her reputation. How could
    you do this to me? What
    happens if my friends find out?
    So, “No, Naomi, I’m pretty
    damn sure I was spot on.
    No one noticed me when
    I was there. Why would they
    miss me when I was gone?”
    The universe doesn’t revolve
    around you. Me, me, me.
    Tiresome. I’ve talked to your parents,
    and your sister. If you’d died,
    they would’ve been devastated.
    Did you know your mom spent
    hours and hours e-mailing
    your photo to law enforcement
    agencies? That’s how the police
    knew who you were when they
    found you, lying there frothing.
    Had you been just another hooker,
    who knows how hard they would
    have tried to resuscitate you?

Derailed
    By dimpled blond Naomi.
    So much for sympathy.
    So much for trying to justify
    the dumb moves I made.
    I’ll try to pacify her, paint
    my face with contrition.
    â€œYou’re right. I was totally
    selfish, and I’m sorry I hurt
    my family.” As the words
    fall from my mouth, I realize
    they’re maybe true. “I’m just
    a stupid girl who fell in love
    with the wrong man.”
    Tell me about him. What
    was so special about this
    guy that made every ounce
    of common sense desert you?
    â€œBr—Bryan is to die for.
    Cute. Smart. Drives a cool
    car. Mostly, he treated me
    like I was the most amazing
    girl he’d ever met. He swore
    I was beautiful, and made me
    believe it. No one else has
    ever done that for me.”
    Okay, that sounds lame. Totally TV.

I Don’t Out Bryn
    To Naomi—I call him
    Bryan. Bryn is a peculiar
    name, one that stands out,
    and even as hurt and pissed
    as I am, getting him in trouble
    (he could go to prison
    for a very, very long time)
    isn’t on my “to do today” list.
    Don’t ask me why not.
    Part of me would genuinely
    enjoy seeing him locked up
    in a cell with some beefy guy,
    looking for a little action.
    I’d probably pay to watch.
    Despite that, the biggest
    piece of schizo me remains
    head-in-the-clouds in love
    with the bastard. How is that
    possible? I’ll never forget
    hours and hours, curled up
    in a
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