Mary was waiting for me in the stairwell at five o’clock. I felt nervous and excited.
“The dress is perfect!” She looked me over, made me twirl around. She commented that my makeup and dress made me special. “You make such a beautiful bride.”
“You really think so?”
Several times she told me how nice I looked—and I believed her. “You will have so much fun, I promise. Come on,” she said, pulling me after her up the stairs to the second floor. We stopped at a room and Mary knocked.
A man with gray hair and a wrinkled face opened the door. “Please, come in,” he said and smiled at me. He was heavy with a beer belly hanging out over his belt, and he wore only a pair of gray dress pants.
“Here’s your girl,” Mary said as we stepped inside and shut the door behind us. “She’s ready for you.”
“You are so lovely,” he said. He smiled and asked me a few questions. He seemed nice enough, but something wasn’t right. He stroked my hair and rubbed my shoulders. I wanted to believe that man cared for me. I desperately needed to know that I was loved and that he would be a daddy to me.
Although I can’t explain, it didn’t feel as if we were playing a game, and I wasn’t sure what was happening. He touched my face, patted my shoulder, and his hand moved down to my neck. “So young. So pretty. So sweet.”
Mary turned to the door, and just then a click made me know she had locked it. “I want you to meet Katariina,” she told the man. “Kat, he’s my friend.”
“You are so pretty,” he kept saying to me.
I smiled. Why wouldn’t I? That was something my father had never told me. I was confused and a little scared, but I yearned to hear such words from a man.
And yet . . . why did he make me feel uncomfortable? Something about the way he looked at me and the way it felt when he touched me didn’t feel right.
He walked over to the nightstand and motioned for me to sit next to him on the bed.
I didn’t move.
“Would you like to sit next to me, honey?”
Chills went down my spine, and like the nice, polite girl my mom had always taught me to be, I said, “No, thank you, sir.”
My voice felt shaky because I was scared. I stared at Mary. Until then I hadn’t realized she was dressed for the beach and wore a blue cotton blouse over her bikini. Why am I dressed up and she’s not?
“What’s going to happen now?” I asked Mary. “Are you going to leave me?”
“No, I’m right here,” she said, but she stayed near the door, as if guarding it from my going out or anyone coming in.
Not sure what to do, I knelt by the bed instead of lying down as I had done with Ralph. Without consciously doing so, I was kneeling in a prayer-like position, my eyes were closed, and I started asking God to help me. What should I do? I’m scared and don’t know what to do.
Just then, the words Billy Graham had said at his crusade filled my mind: “Remember this: God will never leave you or forsake you.” I pictured Mr. Graham standing there, pointing his right index finger at me, reassuring me that God loved me.
I looked up as Mary finished rolling a marijuana cigarette and put it on a tray. I looked at her inquisitively while she lit the joint and pretended to smoke it before she passed it to the man. Both of them pretended to smoke it.
Mary held it out to me. “Here, Kat, try it. It’s good for you.”
Because I could see that they weren’t really smoking it, I knew something wasn’t right. Why are they trying to trick me?
The old man on my left side and Mary on my right made it clear that she intended for me to stay in the room after I smoked it. She laid the joint on the tray. Once before I had tried marijuana with some rough kids and I hadn’t liked it.
“It’s all right,” the old man kept saying in a quiet voice. “You don’t have to be afraid.” He lightly stroked my hair and my shoulders. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”
I didn’t take the pot, but I calmed down.
“How much will you pay for your girl?” Mary asked him. “She’s ready for you.”
I was for sale! I stared in bewilderment as they bargained for me.
“No, that’s not enough,” Mary said with a hard edge on her voice. “She’s a virgin. I want five-fifty.”
Instead of answering, he turned to me. “Are you a virgin?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Have you ever had sex with anyone?”
“No.”
He looked at Mary, nodded, and said, “All right then. I’ll pay five-fifty.”
That’s when I understood how much I was worth to them—five hundred fifty dollars.*
As they talked, I kept hearing Billy Graham’s words inside my head. I sensed that smoking the pot would have been the end of my resistance. Although I hadn’t seen it happen, I’d heard of kids who had smoked pot and gone limp like spaghetti. They weren’t able to walk or do anything, and I didn’t want that.
Silently and fervently I prayed, repeating the promise of God through Billy Graham.
Mary smiled as she held the joint out to me again.
I shook my head. “No, thank you.”
“Take it!” Mary’s voice no longer sounded friendly and kind.
I shook my head again.
“Take it! Now!” The man’s voice was louder and demanding, but I wasn’t going to give in. Finally, he looked at Mary and then back at me. “Would anybody miss you if you were gone?”
“My mom would miss me,” I said. “She’s downstairs right now cooking dinner for me, and I need to go home soon.”
“What’s going on?” he shouted at Mary.
“Taste it!” Mary held the joint only inches from my mouth. Then she softened her voice again. “It’s okay, Kat. It’s good for you.”
Only later, after I was truly trapped in sex trafficking, did I realize that she had probably laced the joint with something that would have made me totally compliant.
The man picked up the joint and again pretended he was smoking. “See! It’s really good.”
“No, thank you,” I said once again. As I spoke, I felt a strange boldness that I hadn’t known before. I didn’t hear a voice, but inside my heart I kept hearing these words: Don’t take the pot.
Mary and the old man tried to reason with me. He finally asked, “Would anybody be able to hear you if you screamed right now?”
“Yeah, my mom would hear me. I would scream really loud and she’d come looking for me.” I stared right into his eyes with defiant boldness.
I was also scared and confused. Mary is my friend. Why did she bring me to this man? What are they planning to do to me? Why is he asking me so many questions? Is he planning to kidnap me? Why would Mary do such a thing to me? He’s a bad man—I know that now. I could feel it in my heart, that yucky he’s-a-stranger-and-I’m-in-danger feeling. Doesn’t Mary see that he’s bad?
I stood up, hands on my hips, and showed them I wasn’t going to submit. You’re not going to get me. I’m a big girl so you’ll have to tackle me.
“Get out of here! Get out of here!” the man shouted. He grabbed my arm, unlocked the door, and pushed Mary and me into the hallway.
“Wait!” Mary yelled as he shoved her out of the room.
“Forget it, forget it. It’s too dangerous. Besides, I’ve lost interest.” He slammed the door behind us.
The lock clicked.
I never doubted God had rescued me from that terrible scene. And it wouldn’t be the last time God had to intervene in my life.
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*As I learned later, that was the going rate for an American virgin girl.