by Kim Merrikin
January is National Human Trafficking Awareness Month. This year, we wanted to use this opportunity to amplify the words of the survivors we serve—to invite them to do the educating. We offered the prompt “What I need you to know is…” and invited survivors we’re walking alongside to respond with letters to the general public.
Throughout January, we’ll be publishing these letters in a blog series called “Letters from Survivors”—they are directly from survivors in the REST community—to you.
We did a little spelling/grammar editing to ensure the clarity of the message. We did not edit phrasing or content in order to keep their real, raw words.
This survivor-author chose to share about some of the events and circumstances she endured throughout her younger years. To respect you, the reader, we feel it appropriate to offer you trigger warnings on the topics of domestic violence, car accidents, infant death, and suicidality.
World, what I want you to know…
0–8
Idyllic, church family, picnics, prominent family, respect, no nudity, cussing, drinking or fighting in front of the children. Father was killed in a horrific DUI crash, killed him and my principal’s daughter’s fiance and threw the third passenger free of the accident and the other driver, headed the wrong way on an exit ramp and plowed into them headfirst killing himself in the process.
9–15
Beatings like I never knew existed! Knocked my front teeth out, beat me so bad I got a bleeding disorder so I didn’t clot when cut. Hospitals, steroids, holes drilled in my back, saw a kid die from a rattlesnake bite, traumatized, sank lower into depression. No one noticed. Began doing drugs, always an excessive amount as I had no guidance. At 15, I saw a heroin baby born to a girl I’d gone to jr. high with. It died within hours of her shooting up, going into labor, seeing that poor tiny baby struggling for life, all blue and crying and we couldn’t hold it or give it comfort. It died. She went back to tricking and heroin and another baby, more beatings. Skipped school for six months till I got caught. Sent to night school where I ran into the guy I had the biggest crush on. Took so many illegal chances. Holding on to the gun used in 13 burglaries. One night I told my mom I had a ride home. She worked full time and was waiting up late every night to pick me up from night school. On this night, my boyfriend’s truck was broken into and we had to wait for the police and while my boyfriend was calling them, my mom called the school office and talked to my boyfriend. He reassured her he’d get me home. Lost my virginity that night. Got pregnant. Sent out of state to an unwed mother’s home and forced to place my beautiful son for adoption. I came home two weeks after birth to my friends not knowing how to relate to me. My BFF had also given birth to a beautiful little girl, and I began taking care of her at night so my friend could sleep until one night she got angry and told me that was HER baby. “She” wanted to get up. I went home and cried for days. Took a bunch of drugs trying to OD, cut myself with razors, marked myself up pretty good before I quit. More attempts to OD, more beatings. Sinking lower.
15–16
So depressed. Given an ultimatum by step-dad—work or school! I tried school. Felt ashamed, got a full-time job. More beatings.
Left home! A run-away again. Middle of winter in Alaska. Too young to rent even though I had money. My friends (including my baby’s daddy and his very pregnant new girlfriend) made me sleep at their place. Began supplementing my income on the side. Ted Bundy killed a friend of mine’s sister, and I had dated her brother. Then his sister got busted at 16 for prostitution. Something that had never dawned on me. So I began not accepting just a bed for the night. I worked and could pay, but that’s not all this new group I met wanted. Cuban war is about to break out. Kissed three GIs I knew goodbye. They promised they’d be back soon. Never saw them again. Puerto Rican drug lord began hitting on me and would ask me to babysit his apartment while he flew to east coast to get more product. Hell yes, I babysat the apartment. It was nice and no one suspected nothing. I was being groomed.
He began a sexual relationship. He was around 35 and I was barely 16. One night he told a “compadre” to take me home which I found odd as he knew I only lived a few blocks away. Next morning I found myself waking up at his place with a toddler, and he’d taken my clothes, shoes, and all coats. I was stuck for three days not knowing how to take care of the baby. Struggling. Woke up determined I was going home. Bundled that baby in so many blankets, duct-taped towels to my feet, wrapped blankets around me, and off we set! I didn’t have a clue where I was at. Walked and walked, needed to find a phone booth or other people I felt I could trust. I knew if I went back and he was there, I might get killed. Walking, cold, baby is hungry and crying. Finally a phone booth. Called my mom and described where I was at, and by that night she had me in her arms, crying, wanting to know all. I had to return the baby, so I went to the head dealer and gave him the baby and told him what happened. He said he’d take care of it, and I never saw them again. More drugs. Ran away again for the final time. Got involved again with the cocaine drug lord at the time and I began dating all the coke dealers. That was a life I knew and was ok with. I was such an idiot! Didn’t get busted, but got beat up one time too many. Met my husband working at my legit job which I never gave up. I worked for his parents. Did not know at the time that he was out on bail for armed robbery, and was going through a divorce. A minor he’d gotten pregnant and they aborted after the wedding. She took him for a ride. Totaled his new car, etc.
This letter may seem to end abruptly but it is the full and complete letter from the survivor.