The First Time They Took Me.

I made a terrible mistake. I should have known better from the beginning. Something didn’t feel right about this man, but I was young and naive. I found myself getting involved in drugs and excessive drinking at the age of fourteen.

I always wanted justice for the child I once was, but every attempt to seek it seemed to be met with rejection. It took me until I was seventeen to gather the courage to report that I had been sexually trafficked for fourteen months. At first, the police seemed empathetic and understanding, but as time went on, I realized justice would be elusive. My story became just one of many in their files, likely to be forgotten.

I kept my ordeal a secret until October 2020 because I feared judgment. How could a boy be a victim of such a crime? Would people think I was lying? These thoughts haunted me, but my close family offered immense support. They believed me, helped me report to the police, and supported my mental health recovery. Despite their support, I still felt broken, used, and discarded. I despised the skin I was in and often engaged in self-destructive behavior. Looking at myself in the mirror reminded me of the exploitation and abuse I had endured.

One day in December 2017, as I walked up a hill in a town in North Somerset, England, I spotted a familiar face in a car. It was the older brother of my best friend – or so I thought. He offered me a ride home, and in my intoxicated state, I didn’t realize the danger. I got into the car, unaware that the man behind the wheel was a complete stranger.

As we drove, I began to sober up and comprehend the danger I was in. We arrived at a house in a nearby town, far from my home. I refused to get out of the car. The man’s hand rested on my knee, and he reassured me that it wouldn’t take long and that he only wanted to have sex with me. I adamantly refused, but his hand continued to climb my thigh, and he unbuckled my seat belt. He forcefully closed his door, trapping me inside. I fought back, kicking and trying to unlock the car door from my side. Unfortunately, he had already locked it. I eventually stopped fighting, resigned to my fate. I begged him to stop, promising not to tell anyone, but he continued until he was satisfied.

Silently, I sat on the car seat as he drove me back to the bus stop where he had picked me up. I caught the bus home, praying that this nightmare would never happen again. Unfortunately, my prayers went unanswered…

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