How Fighting for Myself Became a Fight for Other Trafficking Survivors
In 2011, I heard a loud bang on my door. My heart began to pound in my chest. I’d heard that knock before. A “cop” knock. Complete and utter despair set in when I heard the officer call my full name, demanding I open the door or he would kick it in and take me to jail for everything he found in that room. I started taking inventory of all the illegal things my trafficker had done, everything he’d forced me to do, and what we had in that room. I wasn’t quite sure why the officer was threatening to kick our door in, but I was sure I knew the only possible outcome.