Captive

Extreme darkness surrounded the four walls of the bedroom she stayed at. Though it was daytime, she chose to keep the windows and curtains of her small room closed. The sunrays irritated her; so much so she thought as if they were ridiculing or mocking her. She wanted to cry bitterly; but her tears refused to make way through her eyes. There was nothing that could make her happy. Even if she were to be in a room full of people, she was all alone. She couldn’t remember the last time she had smiled, forget about a laugh. She didn’t even have the courage to let out a fake smile or look at herself in the mirror.

Two years ago, her life had been different. She was someone else and the person in front of her was unrecognizable. A healthy and beautiful fifteen year old was now a frail and pale young woman. She was never good at studies and was educated only up to the primary school level. But she was creative and innovative. She was bold and brave. She was never afraid to speak the truth. In her place was a coward who never fought for herself and allowed others to take advantage of her. She barely spoke nowadays; it had been almost a lifetime since she had heard her own voice. She had no one who would listen to her or argue with her or pull her out of bed when she forced herself to drown in her emotions. She had lost the ability to express or communicate, even if she did want to communicate.

During daytime, she was a maid. At night, a sex slave. After her mother’s death, her stepfather had sold her to the man who had quoted her as an object of his lust and desire. For what? For a lumpsum amount of money with which he would feed his own children. His own blood. In the beginning, she fought back. She tried to run away as well. Her attempts failed miserably. Whenever she was caught, she was beaten brutally. Even after being bought into this hell hole, she had tried to run away. But she was caught yet again.

She was punished severely by her master. Punished in a way no one could ever imagine. And again she tried. And again she failed. She tried to kill herself as well but the merciless men didn’t even allow that to happen. This cycle continued a few more times till she realized it was of no use. This was her fate. What was even worse was that, she wasn’t the only one living this hell. There were many more like her in this place but no one dared to utter a word in front of the master and his associates. They obeyed their commands like a string of puppets and she was supposed to do the same.

Cook good food for them, clean their house and do as they asked them to. Keep them happy and content always. It was a regular routine not meant to be changed. She was alive from the outside; but dead from the inside. She was living just because she had to. Not because she wanted to. While the other girls tried to talk to her, she refused to open up and tell them about her story. Their stories were no different than hers. Some were; in fact, more miserable. It took her time, but she made a few friends in the process. Communication helped her in coming out of the dungeon she was locked in. The dungeon her stepfather had pushed her into and the one she had locked herself up in.

When you think that God has closed all the doors for you, you nowhere realize that he has left a small window open in a corner. A window that lets you out of the pain and sorrow you have faced all this time. An unexpected ray of hope came in the fall of a police raid in the middle of the night. While some managed to escape to fall back into the pit, she was amongst the lucky ones to have been caught. A few days in jail made her understand that this wasn’t the life she or her mother wanted for her. She was meant for doing good things, if not great ones. With the support of a local Ngo who took her in their shelter, she accomplished her purpose in life. She completed her basic education and started working for a small-scale industry. She now helps many others like her, who are and have been victims of human trafficking.

The old days were still fresh in her mind. The injuries she faced, the physical and mental trauma she had to witness were all a part of her inner self. But God and life had given her a chance to regain what she had lost. Respect and self gratitude. She was among the few lucky ones. But everyone isn’t.