Trafficked The Diary of a Sex Slave (6 page)

For the first time ever, a man has asked me why I do this job. I get the feeling he thinks this is my choice. Do people really think every prostitute turns to this life because they are nymphomaniacs? Because it is their number one career choice? Do they honestly think some women and girls aspire to be a sex slave whore like they aspire to be a pop star? I wish the world would wake up.

I was aching to tell him the truth, but I did not dare. What if it is a trap? So I steered the conversation back to him as the minutes of the night slipped by.

Day 82

My life drags on, but now there is some kind of routine. Five days a week I am used by “The Millionaires’ Club”, and three times a week Jamie comes to see me.

Jamie reads the paper to me, or stories, or poems. I like poems the best – there is something magical about them. Today I saw a picture of the Strangler in the paper, and asked Jamie to read the story about him. He is the Foreign Minister. Ironic, isn’t it? I sat there wondering what makes a man in that position do this. I used to think it was just poor countries that fed corruption and deceit, but now I think it has poisoned the veins of the whole world. I hide my surprise about this politician by asking Jamie to play one of the card games he has taught me. We played Rummy and Whist on the bed, and he is always very gracious when I beat him.

Somehow, in the midst of all this, he has taught me to laugh again.

We talk about a lot of things, but the only thing I do not tell him is how I got here and who I am. Somehow I feel an invisible bond with him – a closeness that I cannot explain. I look forward to his visits because he only seems to want female companionship. If I am honest, I feel something like excitement when I see him. He does not want to use and abuse me like the others, and he is the only man since I was taken who treats me like a real person. I would like to think I can trust him now, but I do not know for certain, so I still say nothing about being trafficked.

Day 86

When we were dating, Stefan came to visit with a bunch of wild flowers for me. Pinks and yellows and blues lit up my bare windowsill, and the smell was incredible. I arranged them neatly in a tin cup, and every time I walked past them I would take a sniff and admire their simple beauty. It was the first present he ever gave me, and whenever he could find pretty flowers after that he would always pick them for me.

Today, when Jamie brought me a bunch of flowers and awkwardly presented them to me, I cried. All the pent up hurt, pain, and anger suddenly spewed out of me, and when I started, I could not stop. He gently held me in his arms, rocking me like my mother used to do when I was a child, as he made shushing sounds.

I wondered why something as simple as a flower had triggered such emotion from me when I had been trying so hard to keep it all inside, and then I realized it was not the flowers at all. It was the gesture.

That is when I knew I should trust this man, and so I finally opened up and told him everything that had happened to me. He was silent while I talked, but I knew from the look on his face he was horrified.

He told me he assumed I was a willing participant who enjoyed sex – that I chose this profession. He thought I was earning most of the money the massage parlour charged, which is £50 for half an hour, so maybe I was attracted by the lure of good money. He thought that I did it because maybe I had a drug habit, or was unable to get a regular job for some reason. He thought I was in control of my life.

He had so many false ideas about me and how I came to be here that when he realized, he cried right along with me.

‘I have a friend who is a policeman,’ he told me before his time was up. ‘I will speak to him as soon as I get home.’

‘You will have to be very careful about how you go about things,’ I pleaded with him. ‘They will kill my daughter if they find out I told anyone.’

He hugged me tight. ‘Don’t worry, it will be discreet. I
will
get you out of here.’

And I believed him.

Day 87

I finally have hope, and it is like someone has injected some magical substance into my veins that fills me with excitement. I am buzzing with happiness, and I cannot wait to see Jamie and discover how soon the police will take me out of here.

I think back to the policemen in Italy and hope they are not the same here. I push those thoughts to the back of my mind and wait for Jamie to arrive.

****

When Jamie came to see me today, he was awkward again. He told me he feels tremendous guilt for assuming things about me, but I do not care about that.

I took his hand and rushed him to sit on the bed and tell me everything that happened with his friend.

‘He is a sergeant in one of the Criminal Investigation Departments in the Metropolitan Police. I told him everything you told me and he is passing it onto the Clubs and Vice Unit. He thinks it will only be a matter of days until they arrange a search warrant and raid the premises.’

I clutched his arm. ‘But what about Liliana?’

He took both my hands in his, gripping them tightly. ‘These people won’t know you had anything to do with this. My friend said the police will take all the girls here into custody when they arrive. You’ll be protected then, and after that, we can get the Moldovan Embassy to check on Liliana and keep her safe.’ He gave me a reassuring smile.

Day 88

The politician’s demands are the same, but I know it will soon be over so I can put up with him and all the other men.

My main concern is Liliana. Will Paul and the others somehow find out I was involved in this and carry out retribution against her? I twist all the possible scenarios around in my brain on an endless loop.

I do not think they will find out, but if I am arrested, how do I get to Liliana? I pray that the Embassy can make enquiries and find out if she is still with Natalia in our village. I daydream about them whisking her away to safety. Until she is safe, I cannot speak out loud and tell the truth about what happened to me.

I pace the floor when I am not working and wait for news from Jamie.

*****

When he arrived, he said he had made enquiries with the Embassy, and they would not look into Liliana’s whereabouts until they heard the story from me and verified it. I need to go to the Embassy and tell them everything personally. It seems ludicrous to me. I would go there if I could. No amount of persuasion by Jamie would make them change their minds. Until they have a relative of Liliana making an official complaint to them or a court order, they will do nothing, so I must wait for the police to take me to safety before I tell them.

Our time together was short. Jamie only stayed half an hour because he does not want to be here when the police arrive.

Day 89

There was no search warrant, no teams of policemen. Only two officers arrived in uniform at eleven o’clock in the morning, when all the customers had gone.

Paul was here when they came, and the police lined all the girls up in the reception area. They explained they had an anonymous tipoff that some of the girls were being kept here against their will, and asked all of us to confirm that we were here by our own choice.

I wanted to die inside. I wanted to scream, “YES,” from the top of my lungs. I wanted to clutch their legs and beg them to take me away. But Paul was in the very room. What could we say?

Paul was purple with rage when they left, and all of the girls were subject to kicks and bodily punches. He went lightly on me because he does not want the Millionaires’ Club men to ask too many questions.

But I am the most angry, and I do not have the satisfaction of venting my anger. I can only turn it inward and fester.

I have had enough of being an actress trapped in a victim’s body.

I tug at my hair until clumps of it are coming out at the roots. I bite the inside of my cheeks until I taste metallic blood. I gnaw on my fingernails until they hurt.

The police know this is a brothel so why don’t they shut it down? Isn’t it illegal here? They do not care.

I feel defeated. Is there no end to this torment?

Day 97

Still the police do nothing. Jamie has been to see his friend many times, but the answer is the same: They cannot do anything without evidence. Jamie cannot make a statement to them about the things I said until Liliana is safe, so they have no evidence. I am in a catch 22 situation.

Day 98

When I was a little girl, I would get so excited before my birthday. I looked forward to it for months, asking my mother all the time how many more days I would have to wait until I was another year older. It was not just the presents I anticipated with happiness – they were always small and inexpensive. No, the thing I looked forward to most was being a big girl. Because when I was a big girl, my father told me I could do anything and go anywhere I wanted; the world was full of opportunities that way. At that age I wanted to be a ballerina or a vet.

Now I am a big girl and I look forward to being raped by millionaires. It is twisted and sick, isn’t it? I look forward to seeing those men because they are cleaner than most of the men at the massage parlour. It is the one time when I can go outside and smell the fresh air. I can see the river, the stars, the sparkling lights of the city. Somehow, it gives me hope. There is a whole world that exists outside of the massage parlour, and I have a feeling somewhere in that world is an opportunity for me to get my real life back.

Day 99

Yesterday night the politician played out his sick games with me again.

And, as he thrust inside me and squeezed my throat with more vigour than before, a plan formed in my head, and I thought of two things before I lost consciousness…

If I am dead, no one can help Liliana.

I am tired of waiting.

Day 100

I need Jamie’s help to carry out my plan. Since Paul believes I am the perfect, compliant slave, he never thinks to search me before my torture with the politician in the confines of “The Millionaires’ Club.”

It was easy for Jamie to smuggle in a small video recorder when he came to see me. I have no idea how to use such modern and complicated technology, and for a minute I was scared that I could not do this. But Jamie came to my rescue, patiently showing me how to work the buttons and giving me constant reassurance. For three hours I took videos of him and then deleted them again – over and over until I could work the camera blindfolded. By the time he left I was feeling more confident.

Please let this work.

Day 101

Paul suspected nothing as he dropped me off at the apartment. It did not take me long to find the perfect hiding place for the video camera on a shelf opposite the bed.

This was my only chance, and the enormity of it gave me butterflies. I wanted to be sick, but instead I gulped cold glasses of water to settle my stomach until the politician arrived.

I checked the digital clock by the bed for the millionth time, waiting for the agonizingly slow minutes to pass until he arrived.

When he finally rang the doorbell, I double-checked the position of the camera with shaky fingers and set it to record.

I have had a long time to perfect my acting skills. Now they will be put to the test.

I did not dare watch the video when I arrived back at the massage parlour. Instead, I hid it beneath a loose floorboard under the carpet in my bedroom. I pray that I managed to work it properly, and that every sick thing he did to me is captured clearly.

Day 106

The wheels of justice turn quickly when you have the weight of blackmail behind you. So much has happened that thoughts are jumbling around in my head all at once. I will try and start at the beginning.

After Jamie smuggled the video out of the massage parlour, his policeman friend managed to arrange a private meeting between Jamie and the politician.

From what I understand, the politician used his contacts to order a raid on the massage parlour. Everyone was taken into custody at the police station. I was kept in a cell on my own for four hours before a lady from the Moldovan Embassy called Katya came to see me.

Through the deluge of tears, I told her my story, and that I needed Liliana to be safe before I could make a statement about what had happened to me. I was scared that she would not believe me. To some people, the story would seem so unreal that it must be complete fabrication. But she did believe me. I saw the tears in her eyes, too, as she took notes, comforted me, and tried to keep her own composure. I did not mention the politician, but she said the police have been instructed by powers “high up” to assist me in every way they can.