Kingdom Pillars P.O. Box 108, Newark, OH, 43058
Her story
"C" is a survivor of human trafficking. Here is only part of her story:
When I was a little girl growing up in Columbus, Ohio, I was put to “work” at a very young age.
My mother sold me, and drove me wherever, whenever she got the call to get her drugs or for sex. Many of her “clients” became my clients without my consent as this started at a very young age. The earliest I can remember is being four years old in smelly motels.
Around my eighth birthday, I was taken to an orgy for the first time. It was in a fancy hotel downtown. I was used for an S&M show, chained up with a dog collar, while men committed violent and unnatural acts on me. Afterwards, left lying there like a broken object, I felt so humiliated. I was ashamed, dirty and knew deep down I deserved more in my life. I trembled in fear, but my body straightened and stilled itself like a bow in suspense before the shot, and I heard my voice as though it were not my own, telling them that this was wrong and that I was going to tell on them, and that they would all go to jail!!! As the loud music continued to play, no one seemed to care, no one. Once the “party” was over my mother and some man took me quietly away to a basement. I was certain that I was going to be killed, but instead I was given a sandwich and a blanket and told I was to remain silent.
During the week, I went to school. I was a shy girl, with few friends. I remember once in the second grade, becoming aware of an energetic shift in the room, to realize all eyes were on me. The teacher had been calling on me, and I had been too spaced-out to hear. She wondered out loud if I knew the answer to the question she had asked, and I sat in embarrassing silence while the class laughed. This sadly happened more often than not.
I was a nonentity at school and at home, no one cared for me. I received more attention online and through Mom’s network of drug dealers and friends. It felt good to be viewed as the perfectly beautiful, sensual object by men. This sadly was the only positive in my life. I clung to it as my only raft to keep from drowning in a sea of shame and self-loathing and guilt that I would later learn was not mine to carry. As a teenager, I wanted to kill myself.
It would take several more years, many more hours of therapy, an ongoing mentor, a newfound relationship with the Lord in order to finally share my story with one safe person. Knowing Darcey and Jay are there for me and will always be since meeting them at Lighthouse as a teenager (I am now 30!) has been a huge blessing. I am excited to see how many lives will be changed because people do care and know trafficking is NEVER a choice a young lady makes on her own.
I share this experience publicly here, having finally reached a place in my healing where I have access once again to the strength that came through me in those moments of clarity.
PG-13/EMOTIONAL TRIGGER CONTENT WARNING FOR THIS PAGE
These women have courageously given permission to share their stories.
If we told you plainly everything they have endured, we would have to put a Mature Adult warning. With permission, we have used less explicit descriptions and left out many details.
We use initials to protect their identities.
It is still difficult reading and may be a trigger if you have experienced abuse yourself.
a place called home
We don’t know them,
But they’re here
And need a safe and better place
Away from those who wish them harm;
All the predators they face.
We can’t see them,
But they’re closer
Than we could ever know;
Nearby, but with so little
And no safe place they can go.
We can make a difference
For someone afraid, alone.
Provide a place
With love, acceptance—hope.
To feel safe.
A place called home.
What can we do
To show we care
For broken, hurting hearts?
They need a place to feel safe
For healing, a fresh start.
We can make a difference
For someone afraid, alone.
Provide a place
With love, acceptance—hope.
To feel safe.
A place called home.
- Kathy Robb Howell
