Episode 9.

We weren’t supposed to do drugs—too skanky—but I smoked a lot of weed to numb the feelings. It became my nickname among my clients and, later, my Instagram handle. I liked the confidence it gave me.
When I was being trafficked, I never earned any money. Instead, my traffickers occasionally bought me gifts, like a pair of Timberlands and Baby Phat clothes.I needed cigarettes and rides, so my traffickers bought me cigarettes and gave me rides. I got to know the other girls in the motels, and they became my friends. Fitting in was more valuable to me than getting paid. I quickly became a different person. Even my look changed—no more pretty dresses. I started emulating the girls I saw in hip-hop videos, wearing bright colours, all matchy-matchy in big fur hoods and sunglasses, an orange bag bedazzled to the hilt. I got more experienced, I upgraded from seedy motels to upscale hotels, where the clients were mostly middle-aged men. I was comfortable with that demographic and could get the most money out of them. They’d start showing up around six. I encountered every type of client: a dad next door, a real estate agent, a guy from corporate at a major fast-food chain. Some guys would get super aggressive. They’d act nice, then, during sex, they’d start choking you. Other guys would try to take off the condom.
There are two main types of love-vendor: gorilla pimps, who control girls through violence, and Romeo pimps, who control them by being their boyfriends. David and his guys were the first kind, and Madam Veronica was their main enforcer. I once saw madam Veronica drag a girl backwards down a staircase for keeping a tip. The guys would beat me up for talking back or not earning enough. The first time it happened, Andrew(David’s friend) was driving a new girl around, so I was stuck in the back seat. I lit a cigarette and Andrew told me to put it out. When I refused, he reached back and slapped me so hard that he split my cheek. Blood splattered all over the window. But clients don’t like bruises and cuts, so more often the guys would burn me with cigarettes on the shoulders because my long hair would keep the marks covered. They were smart about how they hurt us. We were goods they needed to sell.
Life during this phase was unbearable for me as my traffickers started demanding something else as big as demanding for my life.
I had gone through hell over what relationship with men had cost me.
To be continued……

© Grace Dammy.