Murderville Page 0,18
as a chill came over her. She wanted to pray for GOD’s mercy but as she thought of her current circumstance she concluded that HE couldn’t exist. This would not be happening to me if GOD was real, she thought. Aghast with uncertainty, she never closed her eyes. She couldn’t sleep, not when her heart was racing like she had stampeding thoroughbreds in her chest. She could barely hold her eyes open as fatigue plagued her, but her fear was constant and kept her awake the entire trip. The car finally stopped moving, and Liberty crawled to her knees unsure of what fate lay ahead of her. Anxious to stretch their legs, the women and young girls groaned as the doors were opened and they were freed from the back of the van.
“Get out! Hurry up! Get out!” one of the men shouted as he held an automatic assault rifle while moving them out of the vehicle like a herd of cattle. The sun’s rays were blinding, almost painfully. After days of nothing but darkness, the light was just as foreign as this new place she had been brought to. Liberty’s neck was on a swivel as she looked around for Ms. Beth. Even though the white woman was the very person who lured her into her current predicament, Liberty still hoped that Ms. Beth would help her . . . rescue her . . . free her.
“Line them up!” a man shouted.
Liberty was pushed into an orderly line. Her soiled clothes were ripped from her body, leaving her naked. At only ten-years-old nothing about her was womanly . . . nothing sexy . . . but despite this she could sense the inappropriate stares of lust as the men assaulted each of them with their eyes. To her captors this was business, big business at that. They could assess the value of each of the captives just by looking at them, and Liberty’s youth actually worked in their favor. Not yet old enough to be sold, but young enough to work the streets and brothels, they had time to mold her. Her description, light African girl, was foreign for the region she had come from and would get the traffickers top dollar when the time came. It might take years before they received a big profit off her sale, but in the meantime she would work and become well versed in the art of sexual persuasion.
Out of nowhere Liberty and the rest of the girls were blasted with high pressure hoses, and the water was so icy that it took her breath away as it chilled her to the bone. The force was so strong it almost knocked her off her feet. As if she was a dog being washed, they sprayed until all of the dirt and grime had been removed and then left her shaking uncontrollably with nothing to keep her warm. She covered her privates as best as she could with her small hands as the men began to split the girls up into groups. They were being ranked, categorized . . . a price invisibly tagged on their toes. When they got to her, Liberty dropped her head shamefully, but the male trafficker that looked down at her smiled in satisfaction.
“A mulatto,” he whispered, knowing that Liberty had the blood of a white man somewhere in her African heritage. “Start her on the street. If she does well, upgrade her to the brothels. Keep her well. As she grows older her value will increase. No track marks! No scars! No diseases!” the man shouted, ordering the packaging and handling instructions for Liberty.
She was shoved out of the line and into a circle with the other kids that were to be put into street prostitution.
Everyone worked. That was the rule. If you didn’t work, you didn’t eat and Liberty was quickly learning that. As the hunger pangs gripped her stomach, she watched the other children eat. Most of them had fallen into submission fairly easily, but Liberty protested each and every time she was put on the corner. They lived out of a warehouse that had been sectioned off and split into different rooms. The children serviced every type of client, and even the little boys were expected to earn their keep. Being turned out before they even hit puberty, little boys were put on the track to attract pedophiles. Some of the young boys were even dressed like women, wearing short skirts with tape concealing