Traffick Read Online Free Page A

corner, stomach knotting,
    body shaking beneath beads of salt
    sweat, waiting for him to bring
    powdered relief, cursing the day
    I met him, weeping at my need
    for him, screaming into the silence,
    â€œPlease come, Bryn. Please
    come and make love to me!”

A Poem by Eden Streit
Screaming into the Silence
    No one to hear
    the brittle cries
    but shadows thrown
    against the walls and
    I
    burrow my face into
    the quilts to shut out
    the demon dance.
    This nightmare I
    can’t
    escape walks and breathes
    beyond the confines
    of sleep, and with it
    a monster impossible to
    forget,
    grinning. Leering.
    Whispering lust-infused
    ballads through serrated
    teeth. He carries in
    his
    hand a perfect strawberry,
    offers it like treasure,
    and when I bend to taste
    it, he smashes it into my
    face.

Eden
Walk Straight
    Was a godsend to me, maybe
    even literally. I’d been sleeping
    on the streets, crashing behind
    Dumpsters, offering myself up
    to passersby for meager money,
    barely enough to eat. I would
    say “survive,” but that requires
    being alive, and I was one of
    the walking dead when I threw
    a plea skyward, “Please, God,
    please, if it’s your will, show
    me the way out.” It wasn’t God
    who actually answered, but
    a priest in the Catholic church
    I had sleepwalked into.
    How can I help you? he asked,
    trying not to look disgusted by
    the odor clinging to the awful
    Salvation Army clothes I wore.
    I didn’t know how he could help,
    but once he had no doubt about
    my circumstances, Father Gregory
    knew exactly how. He sent me here
    to Walk Straight, a rescue for teen
    prostitutes intent on a better life.

Teen Prostitute
    How can I ever reconcile that
    title in front of my name? It’s so
    contrary to everything about me—
    the straitlaced daughter
    of an evangelical preacher and his strict,
    overbearing wife. Mama. At least
    she was until she sent me to hell on earth,
    a reform school of sorts called
    Tears of Zion, where they isolated me
    in a tiny room, only a Bible for company.
    Barely fed me. Rarely bathed me.
    Forced me to meditate on my sins—
    chief among them falling in love
    with Andrew, the Catholic boy with
    attitude and spiritualistic belief beyond
    the ken of my hellfire and brimstone
    parents. With love as my sin, it was
    only proper that my redemption
    would come at the hands of a devil,
    my savior Jerome, a Tears of Zion
    apostle with a sick appetite for sex
    with young girls like me, who he wanted
    to own. I did what he required in trade
    for an escape route across the desert—
    my path to prostitution when I fled from him.

I’ve Confessed None
    Of that to the great people here
    at Walk Straight, a place founded
    by an ex-prostitute determined
    to help reshape the tomorrows
    of teens who want out of “the life.”
    My caseworker, Sarah (who still thinks
    I’m “Ruthie”) has been after me for
    information. To live here, my legal
    guardian has to sign off on it. I was
    never arrested, so I’m not in the juvenile
    justice system, therefore not a ward
    of the state. When I first arrived
    here, I told them my parents
    were dead. That lie is catching up
    to me. Walk Straight has been patient—
    their goal is to take kids off the streets
    and give them a safe place to live.
    But there are legalities involved.
    I’m scared to return to Boise and live
    under my parents’ rule again. I’m also
    terrified of seeing Andrew, who I love
    more than anything in this world,
    because he’ll want to know why—and
    where—I vanished last spring.
    I just don’t know how to tell him.

I’ve Been Courage Building
    For weeks, and today is the day
    I’ll give Sarah the information
    she needs to ruin my life the rest
    of the way. But it’s the only real
    roadway into the future. I truly wish
    Andrew could be there, too, but
    he deserves someone better than me.
    Someone clean. Unbroken. Worthy
    of a love so