"Every 30 seconds another person becomes
a victim of human trafficking."
~ Unknown

Chantal was in her 'room' the same night laying on her 'bed' and staring at the ceiling. Her bed was the only furniture in the room smack in the middle with bare walls and the paint in the ceiling stripping.

Whatever Bigga (who she found out was named Charles), had told her had been a lie. He was using her for more than just carrying drugs to China.

'He lied to me to me,' she thought, 'I wonder if Sam would lose it if he knew. But then again why would he care. It's not like he cares about us. But maybe he will because he must have paid less to use use me.'

Would he lose it if he found out Charles almost starved me to death? Doesn't he see for himself how malnourished I look?

Thoughts.

Thoughts she did not want to ponder.

Thoughts that she blocked.

'That curly haired girl…' she shuddered at the thought of Lizzy. 'Way too chirpy,' she concluded.

She went back to a time in her mind when life told no lies and only sent smiles. She thought about the nights she'd stayed up late and gave her mother a ton load of mischief no matter how many times she would run her off to bed. She knew that although her mother appeared annoyed with her behaviour, she knew she loved it.

Her mind even travelled further back to when her father was alive and she would run into his arms after he came home from a tedious day at work then she would run to the back of her house and carry her newly baked mud cake to show her father who made it his daily duty to 'taste' it and tell her good a cook she was.

That memory brought a smile to her face but was immediately replaced with a frown and her forehead creased as she remembered how her father died.

She sat eagerly on the ground at her front gate waiting for her father to get home. She had made a new mud cake. This one had red flowers in there in the shape of a heart. Red flowers she got from her school's flower bed. She closed her eyes as the memory flooded into her mind's eye.

The three year old, black, kinky haired girl sat on the ground with her pan of mud cake at the front gate. She jiggled waiting on her father to reach home but as the wait became longer her bubbly behaviour went with it too. Her head turned up and her eyes caught an early twinkler that vanished with the wink of her eye.

She felt a hand rest on her shoulder. She turned around and saw that it was her mother who stared down at her. Her eyes were red and her forehead creased.

"We have to go to the hospital sweety," her mother said to her.

She held on to her mother's hand who helped her stand.

"Why mommy?" she asked with her bright murky brown eyes.

"Because daddy is there."

"Is daddy sick again?"

"Yes… but only this time it's worst," her mother replied turning her head away from her so she wouldn't see the tear that had escaped.

She then bent down and picked up her mud cake with the red flowers in the shape of a heart.

"Can I carry this? It will make daddy better," the tiny girl explained.

"Okay," her mother consented.

A minute later a taxi pulled up at their gate.

"Here is our ride dear," her mother said. She held on to her little girl's hand while she carried the mud cake for her.

Fifteen minutes later they arrived at the hospital and were directed to the room number, 313.

"Mommy, daddy is sleeping. Let's wake him," she walked over to her father and as soon as she reached the bed his eyes opened looking at her.

"There's my little butterfly," her dad smiled weakly.

"Daddy!" she smiled brightly showing her missing front and side teeth.

His eyes then moved to his wife and looked lovingly at her, "Sunshine," he smiled just as weakly at her.

"Hey," she replied hoarsely and ran a hand down the side of his face and tears streamed down hers. She wasn't aware that her little girl was looking at her though.

"Mommy don't cry," she said quietly as she caught the tears in her tiny palms, "this cake will make daddy feel better," she said with conviction in her voice as she took it from her mother.

"Here daddy this will you feel better," she said as she held up the mud cake for him to see, "See? This one is different it has flowers in them. It's your favourite colour, red," she beamed.

"It must taste really good but I can't have any because the doctors said I shouldn't eat," he explained weakly.

"Well you can have it when you come home."

"Be a good girl and you'll get to see me again and don't ever stop smiling," her father said to her.

"Keep being the great mother you are and don't stop being happy," her father said to her mother.

"Come here both of you and give me a hug."

They held on to him and she whispered gently in his ears, "I love you daddy."

Suddenly the machine connected to her father started beeping really loud.

"Mommy what's happening?" she asked looking at her mother who had slid to her knees on the ground.

She turned around and looked at her father but his eyes were closed.

"Daddy?" she said poking his face, "Daddy!" she screamed when he didn't respond.

She shook his shoulders hard but he wouldn't respond.

"Daddy! Wake up!! Daddy!!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.

A nurse and doctor rushed into the room five minutes after the beeping began.

The nurse felt for a pulse, "No pulse," she said grimly.

"Cause of death, shot by three bullets and extensive bleeding at the abdomen," the doctor said to which the nurse nodded confirming what he had said. He quickly wrote it down on the clip board he had.

"Time of death," the doctor asked the nurse.

She looked at the time piece connected to the pocket of her uniform.

"Seven seventeen pm, April 7, 2000."

The nurse then drew the sheets over the girl's father's head.

"What are you doing!?" she cried. Though in her three year old mind she knew what was happening she had no idea how to express it but ask the innocent question a three year old would.

The nurse then kneeled to her level, "Your dad… he's… dead."

"No he isn't," she denied, "He's just taking a nap and you'll kill him with the sheets over his head like that," she responded.

The nurse looked over to doctor for some sort of help. He then went into his pocket and produced a lollipop.

"I don't eat from strangers," she shook her head furiously refusing the sweet.

Defeated the nurse stood and wheeled her father out of the room.

"Where are you going with my daddy!" she screamed. The nurse didn't respond.

"Mommy they're taking daddy away!" she cried tears streaming down her brown face.

"It's okay," her mother consoled her wrapping her in her arms.

"Nooooooo!!"

"Chan are you okay?" a girl asked who had poked her head through Chantal's door.

Chantal turned her head towards the door.

"Yeah," she replied wiping the tears from her face.

The girl slipped in and quietly shut the door behind her. The brown skin, Indian haired girl walked slowly towards Chantal gauging the expression on her face.

"What were you thinking about this time?" she questioned with concern.

"You know you can't be in here," she said dodging the question. As if on cue, the front door slammed signaling Sammy's return from doing who knows what.

"Quick hide under the bed!" Chantal whispered furiously.

Within seconds of the girl's disappearance the bedroom door opened.

"We are going to the store tomorrow to get you whatever you need," Sammy said gruffly.

Chantal nodded her head so he would know she heard him.

In one stride Sammy was up in her face looking at her eyes.

"What! You crying? Mommy doesn't want you so stop the crying! You hear me!" he shouted in her face.

She didn't respond so he grabbed her face, "I said, did you here me!" his gruff voice questioned lowly.

She quickly nodded then he pushed her down on the bed.

He stared at her long and hard while she willed her tear ducts to stay unresponsive. He then turned around and stalked out the room slamming the door harshly behind him. 

When a minute had passed the girl crawled from under the bed.

As she took one look at Chantal she engulfed her in a hug but Chantal tried to pry her off but she wouldn't budge.

"Please, Mishti don't hug me."

"You need it Chantal. You are such a crying mess! You must not let his words get to you."

"But it's true! Mommy doesn't care else she would find me already," Chantal cried.

"Hey stop crying for me, please," Mishti asked her with pleading eyes.

"You, you're so strong and you don't make them get to you."

"That is not true. Look." She then proceeded to push her bangles up her arms from around her wrist.

When Chantal looked down at Mishti's wrist she sucked in her breathe. She took her wrist in her hand and looked at the scars. Some healed while others very fresh.

"Doesn't it hurt?" Chantal questioned empathy clear in her voice.

"Yes. But not even close to what they do to us," Mishti responded lowly.

Suddenly Mishti stiffened as she felt Chantal's arms around her taken aback in surprise that she had voluntarily hugged her. Slowly she returned her hug. They stayed there hugging each other for a while.

"I should go before he comes back," Mishti said getting up from the bed.

"Wait, there's cobweb in your hair." Chantal slid off the bed and gently  brushed the cobweb from her hair.

"Stay strong," Mishti said to Chantal.

"You too," she replied softly.

Ten minutes later there was a blood curdling scream.

"I said shut it!" a heavy masculine British accent travelled through the creases of Chantal's door. 

There was then a crash that resonated through the house.

"I told you to shut it," the British accent sneered.

DISCLAIMER: IN NO WAY DO I SUPPORT SLITTING OF WRIST OR SELF HARM!

Okay with that out of the way… what do you all think. Was this intense or not? [Please be honest]

I changed the quote in Chapter 1 so if you would like please go check that out.

I want to give you guys all a heads up, school is starting for me on Monday so updates MIGHT be slow or late. Since this is an important book addressing an important topic I most certainly do not (I repeat) DO NOT want to give you guys any slap dash chapters because I respect you all waaaaay to much to do that so I'd rather take a while to update than rush an update and it didn't have the effect I wanted it to. Also don't worry about me running out of ideas to develop the story because it's all planned already.

Hopefully I update on Friday again and thank you all for being so understanding.

Stay safe and please don't harm yourself.

These are really encouraging/motivating so please don't forget to…
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