Today, I bring you a courageous story of a woman who was sold into sex slavery when she was five years old and abused all of her life, sexually, physically and emotionally. Her dream is that by sharing her experiences, we can stop human trafficking in the U.S. and help the victims see that they can get help, that there are people out there who have been through this and want to help. This is her story, in her own words, nothing has been changed to reflect how horrible it is in a child sex ring…
A Little About My Victory
I grew up as part of a child sex ring run by my step-dad, whom I was told was my real father. I was taught that allowing myself to be raped was what I had to do to gain my parents’ approval. I didn’t believe it and rebelled at every chance. Through conversations overheard when I was very young, I learned I had no birth certificate, which made me realize my parents were liars.
Because my step-dad was a police officer, I believed running would be unsuccessful, so I endured sex abuse for eight years. The whole time, I searched for some clue as to my identity.
My step-dad became ill when I was 13. We moved to protect my sister and mother. Since I did not exist on paper, I wasn’t able to be enrolled in school after eighth grade. This ended my sex abuse but not the physical and psychological abuse from my mother.
When I was 35 years old, my divorce lawyer found my long-sought birth record by cross-referencing names my mom had used with my date of birth, which was correct.
It was an additional eight years before my dad would find and contact me. How appropriate it was the day before Easter, which would serve as my day of rising, as well.
It has been just over a year, and we now have an advocacy blog that I write and he dutifully and lovingly edits.
We edited an email account of my childhood and turned it into a book, all in the hopes of creating enough awareness that children may be rescued and or spared the types of abuse I suffered.
I also realized that I was given an extra measure of grace and strength and offer my suggestions on thriving past abuse within my blog.
Human Trafficking Exists In the U.S.
This was far from the truth. In fact, I was living in hell, being trafficked by the man I called daddy.
My step-father, whom I believed to be my dad, was selling me to his pedophile circle almost daily. These men varied in occupation and behavior. One thing they had in common was their lack of concern for the victims: their toys.
Some believed they were teaching us, deluding themselves into thinking abuse was justified. Others were sadists who enjoyed inflicting pain on us. There were even a few who would beat children to death in order to have sex with them as life left their poor bodies.
Yet for my fifth birthday, he auctioned me to a man in the basement of my own home, where I should have felt safest. It became a house of terror from that day on. On my fifth birthday my innocence was auctioned to the highest bidder and continued for eight years. The physical abuse as well as mental abuse was intense and will forever be a part of my memories but no longer control my life which was a choice to heal that I made.
The man was a sadist who left me beaten on the floor. My mother’s response was to call me clumsy and refuse to listen when I tried to tell her. She said I was making it up. Her man would never let that happen. Yet she had bred me for that very purpose.
So there is child trafficking in the U.S., and our children are victims. A majority of girls were hidden after being stolen, using techniques I will not describe for fear of educating freaks in how to get away with kidnapping and murder.
My point is trafficked children from the U.S. and the rest of the world endure treatment that is not only criminal but beyond grotesque. It needs to be stopped now.
Read detailed accounts of my life in my book
I was conceived under false pretenses on my mother’s part. She had, from the beginning, sought out to produce a child that could be used in a sex ring in order to support her. She deceived my dad, got pregnant and left him as soon as she accomplished her goal. To protect my sister and supply a victim, ME!
More importantly the men involved steal, breed and obtain children however and wherever they can, and if one parent heeds a warning and watches their children more closely, preventing abduction, then all my suffering was worth it. The group I belonged to bred teens like prized bitches selecting traits like any good breeder, but they also abducted victims.
One popular method that I witnessed was infiltrating a family and using one of the breeder girls to babysit. Once accepted the men would arrange a swap. They waited for the parents to go out. Then use one of their sitters to exchange children who through their abuse had died with living children. They did this by starting a massive house fire and throwing the dead children of simular size in the living children’s beds and taking the living as fresh MEAT! They had other methods but all involved people appearing perfectly safe and dependable misleading unsuspecting parents.
When I was 13 in order to abort and/or kill myself, I jumped from a window and ripped open my breast on a branch of the bush I did not see below me, so I have a scar there and on my pelvic bone from a mixer inserted and removed as punishment for biting someone when I was a child. The mixer caught on my skin ripping it open. My face was punched so hard it split my skin under my eye. I was not hidden so I was not allowed to be scarred too badly for obvious reasons. The hardest thing about being in the group was knowing that you would eventually be used to produce more victims.
The girls were separated from group meetings when they were about 11 years old and then forced to have sex with only selected males, typically a teen male that from what I could tell was abducted early in childhood and one or two adult males. This was their effort to reduce inbreeding. We were expected to produce a child for them as soon as our cycles were regular enough. At that point we were raped three times a day minimum by our sires. They would abuse us mentally as much as possible for getting periods. We were useless, not even good enough to get pregnant.
The agony is explainable knowing that you are growing a life inside you, and it will likely be more abused and considered disposable and eventually get killed. Girls would regularly kill themselves after seeing their infants taken. I walked around from ages 11-13 in constant fear for what would eventually be the fate of an unborn child I would soon produce. Each period would bring a sense of dread and relief! Dread for what they would do to me and relief that I had escaped another month without giving them another life to abuse.
The babies would be given away to be kept by “families” until they could join the group when they were five years old. Some if they were imperfect (deformed) were sacrificed at rituals. The “families” were a pedophile and an older teen or former adult victim typically, usually living remotely where the comings and goings would go unnoticed. After all I had endured and because I did not give in at 13, I became pregnant and gave into the idea of suicide although I am not sure if I was trying to end my life as well as the unborn child or the unborn child. I survived obviously, but the baby did not.
It took quite sometime for me to shed myself of the guilt of ending another life deliberately, and at times I still wonder why I did not try other alternatives. The fact is I saw how quickly they found runaways and what they did to them and I was chicken. I did what I needed to do to spare the child! As to how it felt to grow up like this, it is hell but after a time you become numb to the abuse and just react the way good girls are supposed to.
I developed what I call an off switch and would shut out all the pain in an almost catonic state of mind and run on for lack of better discription auto pilot and in an emergency and still do. I have had several bouts of cervical pre-cancer from HPV as a child never has progressed luckily we have caught it in time to not have to do major care. I have spinal damage that took me from being an artist to hardly being able to print well enough to read but am getting better to some degree so we will stick to the being trafficked as a child.
After a lifetime of childhood and then domestic abuse I found the love of my life once I determined every life is precious, including me. I have been called brave and courageous but I am not. I realized when writing my dad that I had a lot to offer the world in the way of awareness, and that if I was not part of the solution then my surviving was pointless and significant. Awareness is so buried. Help is so hard to find. Survivors feel ostracisized and fail to seek help. I felt that if I spoke up perhaps someone needing help would gain enough strength to go and get it. Awareness is essential for those who work to find and aid these children. To be a part of the solution, repost and support a group you favor.
KNOW WHO YOU TRUST PLEASE!