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This week has been a watershed. Besides agreeing to go with Stone to his event, I finally told my brothers about the podcast and then about what happened. They were both devastated and so angry at Pops when they heard the role he played in all of it.
But even as I help them navigate their anger, grief, and guilt, them knowing isn’t a burden. In fact, it’s lightened the one I’ve been holding.
If I can use my considerable platform to shed light on the plague of sex trafficking that’s part of Houston’s underbelly, maybe I can do some good.
So, I’ve decided to come out on The Jezebel, to say my name with pride. I want people to understand that anyone can become a victim of it, but that it doesn’t have to ruin your life, And I want my daughter to be the first to know.
I won’t let her listen to the podcast.
It’s for audiences 17+, but I’m also very aware that the girls who are affected are much younger. But at eleven years old and on the cusp of young adulthood, I decided to just give her a very broad overview of what happened.
“So, I want to tell you a story of something that happened when I was nineteen. I promised when you were born that I wouldn’t ever lie to you. That I would protect you with my very life, and I meant it.”
Her light amber eyes grow wide. “Mom, you’re scaring me.”
My heart thuds and my gut knots, but I smile and take her hand. “I don’t ever want you to be afraid. But I also want you to know that fear is normal. If you’re scared, just remember that darkness exists so that we can see the light, okay?” I tell her.
She nods, solemn and brave. My heart swells with love for her. I push my own trepidation to the side and follow my daughter’s lead and let my courage propel me forward.
“When I was nineteen, I was taken by men, who sell human beings and force them to do things against their will. All sorts of things. I’m fine. I was rescued after only a few days. And I’m very, very lucky that I had a family to fall back on.”
Her face has turned ashen and her wide eyes are glassy with tears. “Someone sold you, Mommy?” she asks in a small, high pitched voice made thick by the tears she’s holding back.
“Yes, but I got out and I’m here,” I tried to reassure her, but she had been beside herself.
“Can they still do that?” She asks.
“To me, or you? No. They’d have to kill me first, baby. But there are people who still do it, and who hurt other people the way they hurt me,” I say and hold my breath and pray she doesn’t ask for specifics.
She brushes her tears away and sits up straight. “We have to stop them, Mom. They can’t do that,” she says, her eyes brighten with anger and for the millionth time, I fall head over heels in love with my daughter.
I pull her into a hug. “No, they can’t. And we will stop them. Or die trying.”
At Last
Regan
“I’m so sorry. But she’s still crying. I can’t leave her like this.”
I hit the little blue arrow and send Stone the very last message I wanted.
I’m despondent, as the three dots populate and disappear half a dozen times, before a response finally pops up.
“I understand. I’ll call you when I’m leaving. And don’t take that dress off…you promised me that privilege, and I plan on collecting.”
Oh, that man…he does things to my heart.
“Mom? Are you almost done?”
At the sound of my daughter’s voice, my heart leaps and nerves assail me. I came into my bathroom to text Stone when it seemed like she wasn’t going to calm down any time soon. Someone reposted that picture of me and Stone on Snapchat and tagged her in it. She was devastated and has been sobbing all night. I had just finished getting dressed when she came to show me the post.
My mother is here, and I know Eva’s going to be fine, but I feel terrible going out when she is so upset.
With one last peek at my reflection, I turn off the light and step out of my closet.
Eva is sitting on my bed, her eyes glued to her phone, her fingers flying.
I smooth the fabric of my dress and clear my throat to get her attention.
