And He Called Me Angel The Story of a Human Trafficking Survivor

242 Pages·2015·1.19 MB·English

by  Meyers

AuthorHouse™
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.authorhouse.com
Phone: [phone]

© 2015 . All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 2/2/2015

ISBN: 978-1-4969-6729-9 (sc) ISBN: 978-1-4969-6727-5 (hc) ISBN: 978-1-
4969-6728-2 (e) Library of Congress Control Number: 2015901524

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,
and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links
contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer
be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do
not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby
disclaims any responsibility for them.
Contents
Chapter 1 Two 20’s for a 40
Chapter 2 The Old Coat
Chapter 3 “Easy” way out
Chapter 4 Driving Lessons
Chapter 5 How To Trick John
Chapter 6 It’s My Turn
Chapter 7 A New Job
Chapter 8 A Wedding For A Ring
Chapter 9 Knights n’ Pawns
Chapter 10 Cherries Anyone?
Chapter 11 Daddy’s Phone Call
Chapter 12 Teen in my genes
Chapter 13 Making Greedy
Chapter 14 She’s Prettier Than Me
Chapter 15 Bang Your Head
Chapter 16 A New Place
Chapter 17 The Beginning
Note From The Author
T
his book was written to honor and give reverence to all the souls lost to
Human Trafficking. And so that you, the reader, can get an understanding of
why some children can’t “just get out” of this situation on their own. The most
frequently asked questions of a trafficking victim is “Why did you stay? Why
didn’t you get help?”
I was trafficked for sex as a teen and it is not as simple as it seems. This is a
billion dollar industry and it will not be overcome easily. The traffickers have
increased in numbers and so have the victims. Statistics say hundreds of
thousands are currently being trafficked, there are many more than we are aware
of.
Sex Trafficking isn’t alone, in Labor Trafficking people are forced to work to
earn small amounts of food. Humans die in both of these industries. Trafficking
will not stop until more is done about the demand for humans, whether it be for
sex or labor. No demand, means no need for traffickers to exist.
Please, read my story and find out what happens on the inside. Learning about
trafficking betters your chances of recognizing the signs of trafficking so you
can protect the one’s you love.
Some names/locations in this book have been changed to protect others. Please
excuse the language, it was necessary to express the culture of the lifestyle.
Some conversations may not be exact in original wording, but all of the stories
are real.
Chapter 1
Two 20’s for a 40
M
emories, something most people try to hold on to, those are things I’ve
tried to forget. I only have a hand full of memories of the old house out in the
country in Arkansas. I can remember a silver Christmas tree that I thought was
very weird, going to see the new house in town when I was around 4 or 5yrs old,
and the day Mom killed the Dog. We had a black dog, and one day the dog bit
me on the hand. I don’t remember why the dog bit me but I remember momma
changing the bandages and the healing part. I guess because it hurt more after
than it did in that moment. What I do remember most though is Momma walking
down the dirt driveway. You see, our house was down a long country road that
ran between endless cotton fields. The driveway to the road was a dirt path lined
with several trees and filled with tire grooves that led you to the house. She was
walking with a quick determined pace because she was real upset. She had the
dog by the collar dragging it along with her. In the other hand she had a gun, it
was long and black, a rifle. I watched mom rush down the driveway until she
disappeared between the trees. A few seconds later I heard it. “Pow!” I knew
exactly what it was, I was used to guns. My dad and uncles frequently shot clay
plates they sent flying through the air with a slingshot. What I didn’t know
before that moment was that guns were used to kill, let alone my mom would use
one to kill. The dog had bit me and she killed it. All 6 of us kids cried for our
dog. Mom helped us give our dog a proper burial and we all lined up to say our
goodbyes. Our only brother was at the head and the five of us girls followed in
order. It was a very sad day. I thought about it for years after. My mom killed
our dog because of me. Being one of the middle children I was often forgotten
about, but not that day. That day she wanted to protect me so much that she
killed that dog, our dog. I remember that the most. And moving, I remember
moving. The six of us were growing up and we were moving into town so this
meant neighbors, school, and most of all friends. My Aunt had come by and was
asking about the new house in town. I was excited to move so when my aunt was
telling mom she was going to see the new house I wanted to go. Number one I
loved riding in a car and number two I would do anything to go to town. I ran
into the living room “Aunt Janell, Aunt Janell I wanna go, I wanna go, please
take me with you.” I begged. She smiled and looked at my mom, “can she go?”
Mom quietly said yes so I went to town with Aunt Janell and got to see it all by
myself, no other kids. We rode through Main Street, there was a drugstore,
department store, barbershop, and a couple of other buildings all connected in a
row. Our new house was Just a few blocks from the downtown area, and as
small as the town was everyone’s house was a few blocks away. We moved
there a couple of days later. The house was big and white and was technically
three stories to us kids because we counted the scary attic. There was a big wrap
around porch and a big ole beehive inside the wall of the house when we first got
there. My dad and some others got rid of the bees; of course, we kept the honey.
In town, there were two stores to get food from, one we called Reba Bland’s, and
the other was the Black’s. The Black’s store was Just down the road from the big
house we moved into in town. We had a big garden in the back for vegetables
and Dad would sometimes hunt or fish for our meat. I remember going froggin
with him. He would take these pitch forks on long poles and spike them down
into the water from a bridge above. Those frogs were huge, and they taste Just
like chicken. After dinner I would try to be the one who got to lay on mom’s
chest while we watched the science fiction shows my dad liked. I remember
laying on her chest and hearing her heart beat. I would try to listen for mine as
well to see if our hearts beat the same. I would slow my breathing to try to match
her breathing. I thought, well, if I come from her, I should be in rhythm with her.
I would work at trying to stay in her rhythm, sometimes I could make it work,
but most times we were slightly off. She would talk and it was like having your
ear up to a speaker with a bit of a muffled sound. I would hope that she would
talk during the show just so I could hear the inside muffled sound. Those were
the days…it was exactly what you would think small town living would be.
There were good memories in that town, but it didn’t end that way. It was
famously touted throughout the family that dad had proclaimed to mom. “When
you turn 40, I’m trading you in for two 20’s.” It was a joke, to us, but it wasn’t
to him. He meant it and he did it, he traded mom in for two girls who were not
quite in their 20’s but they were in our family, my mom’s blood kin. Yep, that’s
what I said. Two blood nieces! Yea, not good, I knew then and know now how
“not good” that was. Mom’s mood changed when that happened. She used to be
happy, now she was just there. I never seen her cry but I watched her face fade
away over the pain day by day. My cousin showed off their relationship before
they even began the divorce. That added more pain and less momma. Very
shortly after that our big ole white house burned to the ground, the only thing
still standing was the freezer that was in the dining room. We had to move to a
house several blocks away and when we did… dad didn’t. Mom was never the
same afterwards, being his wife was all she knew. They met when she was
finishing out her teen years. She was raised in the country in the cotton fields
and went from there to Dad’s house. She only finished 6th grade. According to
her, Grandpa wanted them to learn to read, write, and do arithmetic, then go to
the cotton fields. Her family slowly migrated to Oklahoma leaving her there in
Arkansas mostly alone. The sister she had there wasn’t exactly on her side, she
had moved there only because Dad convinced her to come back. With no one
and nothing to stabilize her, I personally think mom had a mental breakdown. It
was only weeks later when mom met her new boyfriend, and he didn’t come
alone. She’d never had any other relationships besides Dad. She had no clue
what was coming at her. “The twins” Dan and Ron quickly became the
disciplinarians of the house. They were much younger than she was, she had
traded off for two twenties as well. I don’t know if she intended for it to be that
way but it was. She had done the same thing to Dad that he did to her. Only
thing was, they weren’t doing anything to each other. They were doing
something to us kids but they were too busy in their own worlds to realize it.
Mom had gotten things together to go to night classes at the high school to get
her GED so she could get work to take care of us kids. She’d never had to have
an outside job before, she had a job, and it was called “Mom!” She’d never been
away from us either. This was the first time she would need to be away but it
was important. How could she take care of 6 kids with no education? So she
went to school and when she did, the twins began babysitting / molesting all six
children in some way, shape or form. Ron had taken Amanda for himself and
Dan had the rest of us to his self. I didn’t fully understand what was going on,
but I knew deep in my soul it was wrong, it felt wrong, as wrong as wrong could
be. I waited for mom to step in and do something. She didn’t know at first but
after a few weeks I told her about Shelia having to go to the bathroom with Ron
and her telling us stories about it. Dad was told by others in town that the twins
were living with us and according to mom, he was steaming mad. I was glad
someone told him and was waiting for the moment when he would walk through
the door and stop all of this since mom was ignoring the existence of it. He never
showed up. It was only a day or so later that mom told us to pack a bag. She said
to put a few suits of clothes and some underwear in a bag. I thought we were
going to a friend’s house or the church for a camp of some kind. Each of us
grabbed a hand full of things and we waited for mom’s friend to show up. When
it was time to go mom was acting strange. She was looking out of the windows
and acting all nervous. When the car pulled up she opened the door and hurried
us all out to the car. We threw our bags in the trunk and got in the backseat. “Get
down, get down!” mom yelled to us. We had no clue why but we got down as
low as we could. After driving for a while on the highway she said we could get
up. We looked out the windows and there were nothing but cotton fields all
around. We started going through a town and pulled up to a building with a lot
of windows. We filed out of the car and into the building mom went to the
counter while we found seats. We were there for hours and it wasn’t hard to
figure out that it was a bus station. Mom finally told us that we were headed to
Memphis, Tennessee. We got on the bus when it was our turn. It was fun at first
but after a while that long drive wore us down. It was night time when we pulled
up in Memphis TN. We had just gotten off the bus when I looked up to see a
very familiar face. I froze right where I was. “How was the ride?” was the first
thing he said. I couldn’t say anything back, it was Dan and Ron. Clearly they had
planned with mom to meet us here in Memphis. Why were they here? Why was
she going to let this start happening again? We walked with them several blocks
away from the bus station. When we got to the tall buildings we went inside one.
Mom got a hotel room and we went up the elevator to the room. Mom went back
down and told Dan the room number for him to come up later so the hotel didn’t
know there were so many people in the room. We only lasted a week or so there
and Dan didn’t let a day go by without some kind of contact with me. The only
income was the twins going to the blood bank and they could only do that once
each. Mom went to the legal aid office and they paid to put us back on the bus.
Now we were on our way to Oklahoma. This is where I met my grand-parents
and other family members. It was great, at first, until mom let the twins join us
in Oklahoma. The molestation began again the night they arrived. We were
living in a small shack of a house near the fair grounds that my uncle owned. My
Aunt didn’t like that Dan and Ron had come to Oklahoma and it wasn’t long
after that we moved. We moved in with old man Letcher that mom did side jobs
with. We were only supposed to stay for a little while, just long enough for mom
to find another place. I guess it was easy for the old man to see what Dan had
begun so he followed suit. I had gotten sick and my mom sent me to sleep in his
bed. I thought it was to take care of me, it was for a whole other reason. This is