I thank my lucky stars every single day that I'm still alive now to tell my story. At the time, all I knew was that I needed to survive. I didn't know just how dangerous my situation actually was or what easily could have happened to me.
The first time, I was abandoned by people I thought I could trust. People I thought loved me. As a result I ended up at a bus station in a new state, on the rough side of town. A young couple took me in and claimed it was out of kindness. In reality, it was because the young man saw profit in his eyes when he looked at me. Before I realized this was someone I couldn't and shouldn't trust, he sold me to the highest bidder. I was purchased for somewhere around $90 in total, with the hope and plan of having me earn much more for the purchaser, if they managed to break my spirit. I'm alive now to tell you he failed. I even wrote about it in 2017 (Detailed Pieces of a Shattered Dream).
The second time, I knew the man for seven years first. He was a police officer in another country. He was warm and welcoming throughout the years we knew one another, though he did occasionally have a streak of jealousy and a controlling nature in him. Still, I fell for him. Finally, after 7 years, he invited me to be with him in Scotland and to get married. It was my dream coming true, I thought. Really, it was the beginning of a nightmare. One hundred and fifty two days of forced slavery as an object of entertainment became my life. I wasn't just his own entertainment, but the entertainment of others whom he invited to partake in the novel American girl. One hundred and fifty two days I regretted my decision to go there. One hundred and fifty two days I wished I could escape. For one hundred and fifty two days, I kept myself alive by telling myself things would get better.
Eventually I managed to escape. I lied my way out of there. I made him believe that I would come back if he sent me home. I made him believe in me. Finally, he sent me home with a return ticket to go back in time for my birthday. I hit the ground back in Los Angeles and disappeared. For a number of years I lived in fear until one day... I didn't.
I can't explain why I decided to open up about my story, but it didn't happen right away. It wasn't until I learned how to talk about the first event that I finally opened up about the second. Eventually I'll write that story, too. For now, it's served a valuable purpose in helping others get out alive. For now that's enough. For now.
Someday he'll live his life in fear the way I did, knowing he'll be exposed to the world in a future book, "Custom Justice" about my one hundred fifty two days of Hell.