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"I don't know. Stay alive and not get sympathy from the so-called good Samaritans. It's actually the reason I dress up like this. No one will want to try and fix someone like me. My bitchy personality and ever angry face is to keep sympathy eyes away from me."
"Wow. I didn't know it meant so much to you."
"Now you do and if you want to live the rest of your life in peace, you better get rid of that pretty face. Trust me, you will be better off that way."
Street life was the worst thing that had ever happened to me, exclusive of my grandparent’s abuse. At least before, I still had a roof over my head, wore clean clothes, and ate good food but it didn’t make up for the abuse we endured. I was not going to add to my suffering by living like someone else in the streets.
There were only three girls in our group. June, me, and Emma. Emma was crippled so it was always June, I, and three of our five men going out to look for supplies. The worst that could happen was us being chased by a street vendor after grabbing something off their cart or being chased by security guards for trespassing.
It was a chilly night like every other night for the past three months. We had just finished eating leftovers from a nearby restaurant and everyone was lost in their own dark thoughts. Three men dressed in all black approached us with bright flashlights pointed at us and threw several $20 dollar bills and coins at us.
We were all huddled in our dusty blankets in a circle, only our faces were visible.
"You and you, stand up," One of the men commanded pointing at Emma and I. We couldn't see their faces due to the bright lights that were shining in our eyes.
"I can't, I am a cripple," said Emma softly. Her face was untouched just like mine and she had short hair.
"Bullshit," the man on the right said as he bent to uncover her only to be met by her weak crippled legs.
"Fuck! Just you then," the man in the middle said. My heart was already pounding. What do these men want with just me? I wondered.
"Why just her?" A voice I later recognized to be Matteo’s asked from behind me. The guys beside the one in the middle took out guns from their waistbands and pointed them at us.
Without warning, the man in the middle grabbed my hair and pulled me from the group. I tried to scream but he was quick to cover my mouth.
"Not a word or you'll each have a bullet in you," I heard one of the men coldly say. My friends did not disobey.
I was crying as I tried to free myself from his tight grip but my efforts were in vain. I tried biting his gloved hand covering my mouth, punching him, and even refusing to walk. He would drag me harder, forcing me to get up on my feet again and hold the wrist of his hand that had a handful of my hair in it.
After a minute of struggle, I was thrown in a van and made to sit on the floor. The van started moving the minute the door was closed. I couldn't see anything as most of my hair was in my face and I didn't want to. All I could hear and feel were my legs and hands being tied.
My hair was roughly moved from my face. I gasped in fright when a black figure right in front of me came to sight. The figure forced a piece of cloth in my mouth then pushed me as he stood to leave.
My eyes opened wide upon seeing I was not the only one in the van. There were six more girls all tied up like me and had cloths in their mouths to suppress screams and speech too. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I looked back and forth. We all had one thing in common, we had not altered our natural faces. Only two had nose rings and three had two pairs of earrings. There were different hair colors ranging from black to orange, purple, red, maroon, and blonde.
June was right, there are people out there after girls like us. Girls who could be fixed and presented before anyone. Hair color was not a concern as it can always be dyed but piercings all over the face can't be blocked.
My cries intensified at the thought of the fate that had befallen me. Wherever I would end up, I certainly was not going to be showered with milk and honey.
"How many did we get today?" I heard a voice ask from the driver's seat.
"Seven. Three more than yesterday," A male voice behind me responded.
I turned to see three men in all black seated behind me with their eagle eyes on us.
"Good. The boss will be pleased. His shipment has enough cargo now."
We are the cargo. More than seven women being shipped out of the state. Am I being trafficked to become a sex worker? No, no, no. This can’t be happening. I feared. All the girls were crying, trying to free themselves from the rope but even if we succeeded, we couldn't leave the van.
I cried throughout the whole drive, about an hour. I had lived outside long enough to know it was past midnight when we arrived. The van door was opened, bringing stacks of hay, containers, and layers of cartons boxed in sight.
"All of you out now!" A male voice commanded, banging the side of the van with his bare hand.
Behind the van, three men in fancy suits and luxurious jewelry sat at a round table. They were surrounded by armed men while they played poker. We were lined up in front of them and waited for our judgment.
That was the first time I laid my eyes on Enzo. I thought they were all monsters for what they did to us at first but I was soon after proven wrong.
"They are perfect and more than yesterday's. Good job, Philippi. Good job," One of the men said in a strong Mexican accent.
