Valencia 1

Valeria Valencia

Ms.Alcaraz

English P.2

14 November 2017

I, the Wilting Flower

The pain not only physically but emotionally could ever be forgotten as long as I lived. It

had stuck and it had shaped who I have become. My name is Daniela Martínez, a twenty seven

year old and up until about a year ago, I was victimized into sex slavery. My story has never

been spoken of to a single human being but I shall share now because I feel like I have to in

order to cope. November 18th, 2010, it was a normal sunny day in Santa Barbara (CA), not

exactly good or bad, just normal. Usually everyday after a long day of learning, I would go to the

park and just sit, it was my quiet place. Sitting on the park bench listening to music with my

headphones on, alone with my thoughts. The moment I lingered for throughout my entire day.

However, I stand corrected when I assumed I was alone. There I was listening to my favorite

song by the Webs when my day went completely downhill. Unfortunately for myself no one was

around so when I kicked and screamed, not a single being came running my way to see what all

the ruckus was about. Dragged into a white van by two men with black leather jackets and masks

who were so strong that I could not even fully fight back and defend myself.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT?PLEASE …..I’ll do anything !!!” I said as I was being dragged

across the concrete floor.

“Shut up, of course you’ll do anything. And you will” The man said with a smirk on his face.

As soon as I was put into the van, I was drugged

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From that point on, all I remember was waking up in a dark room with about eleven other

young girls that were all around my age. I soon realized we were in a basement, there were beds

everywhere for us to lay down so apparently they wanted us to be comfortable, but how could we

ever feel that way? However, most of the girls looked like they had just seen a ghost so they

definitely were not comfortable. I was in too much of a shock to shed an actual tear at the

moment. About an hour later after processing it all, I began to sob. I just layed there sadder than

a wilting flower. I was so afraid and so many thoughts had been cruising my mind and I had an

idea what was going to happen but I couldn’t believe it, it was too gruesome.

A man had came down and took the girls and I out of the basement and when we arrived

to the first floor, multiple men were just staring at us. They started undressing me and I didn’t

fight it because some of them had guns so I was completely frightened to even try anything.

They gave us lingerie to put on and from that moment on, I knew I had been correct about my

gruesome thought from earlier that day. From there these men told me that I must be

professional with the clients which meant no crying, no screaming, absolutely no funny business

or else they would beat me. I was threatened so of course I said I will obey. I tried my best not to

cry. I was sent to a room and when I entered, I saw a man lying on the bed. He was as old as a

the funky town song from the late 70’s. This man was literally unpleasing to the eye: beer belly,

bald, scars on his face, and a disturbed look. I knew what I had to do so I walked up to the man,

he immediately just pulled me towards him and started groping me as if we were two teenagers

who just moved in together. I had no control whatsoever and I wanted to cry so bad but I

couldn’t. He treated me harsh in a sexual way and I hated it. This man was a tower of strength.

He raped me and I screamed because of how much it hurt, I’ve never been through that before.
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After he raped me he told me to “take care” of him and I didn’t know what he meant so he was

furious and just shoved my head down towards his private parts. I could feel his ice cold hands

rubbing my body all over and I just couldn’t stop crying. I was in the worst situation I had ever

been in my entire life. I couldn’t wait till it was all over, I was relieved when the alarm clock

yelled as his time was up. My “boss” came in and took me out of the room. I bawled my eyes out

after my boss took me back down to the basement. My innocence…. my purity, it just vanished,

all because of a man who couldn’t get some in the real world. For the first time in my life, I truly

hated myself but I knew everything that was happening wasn’t my fault.

I remained in this house for years, four to be exact and the situation didn’t get improve at

all. I went through hard times in there when it came to my physical state of being. I was

depressed and so were many of the other girls that were going through this as well. Depression is

like trying to ride a bike without training wheels for the first time, it’s not fun, it doesn’t work

out, and you just want to cry. After these four years I was shipped off to Paris arriving to new

men that were in control of me. It was different in Paris, my job had to do with me going outside

unlike in the other house I was forbidden to step foot out of the house under any circumstance. I

was a prostitute and every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday I had to be in a particular street corner

by a specific time. We were dressed in a extremely provocative way to get more attention, and it

was quite uncomfortable for me but eventually I got use to the costume I had to wear for work.

There were many of us around the same area so my boss had men sit in a car parked by our

corners watching our every move making sure we wouldn’t dare to make a run for it and try to

escape. I felt like a caged animal stuck in a pet shop, so many promiscuous eyes laid upon me. I

never tried running because I didn’t know my way around Paris, I was full of fear. I knew what
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would come my way if I ran: death. My boss would perhaps send someone to capture and beat

me over and over again so I prevented this from happening by not trying anything risky. I

absolutely hated the feeling of getting a beating from a man who’s as strong as a heavy storm.

I stayed in Paris for about two years, from that moment I was exported to Chicago where

I was originally born. I still had the same boss due to the fact that he came along with me with a

couple of other women. Chicago was where my grandma had lived so for some reason I had

hope of someone actually finding me and setting me free. However, it didn’t transpire like this

whatsoever and as a matter of fact, I went through the worst in Chicago. Insults were always

thrown at my face and the most famous one was skank which I found pretty ironic due to the fact

that the men who did this to me helped me fulfill that title.

“Get over here you fucking slut.” said my clients who had no respect for me whatsoever.

I would get so furious at times and I would completely blow up.

“Oh you can’t get some pleasure in the real world huh? No one wants you? You’re a fucking

freak, GET AWAY FROM ME!” I would say to most men.

I was beaten, raped, and uncared for by cruel men who didn't even bother to give me a proper

meal from time to time. There was this one man in particular who didn’t use protection and he

impregnated me. Protection was a big deal to my boss because he couldn’t afford things that

happened like this because he didn’t want to have the need to “take care” of it. I knew I was

pregnant due to my period being late and me puking almost every morning after I woke up. I

didn’t want to tell anyone, I wanted to keep this a secret but I just couldn’t. They were going to

drug me as usual,but I didn’t let them. I told my boss I couldn't work that day: I wasn’t feeling

well. I had to tell my boss about the pregnancy. He was furious, he slapped me and said “how
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could you be so stupid?” I didn’t say anything but after this incident had happened, a man came

into the room i was staying in and started beating me. I knew I would lose my baby. He then

continued to punch me in the stomach and got the crazy idea to him my stomach with a heavy

dumbbell. I started sobbing immediately after I saw what he had caused. I experienced: bleeding,

sobbing, and fearness. I could see the blood dripping from my shorts and I knew my baby was

gone. At this point in my life I just gave up completely. I told myself hope wouldn’t be lost - but

I was wrong. Trauma is now a friend of mine.

One day I realized who the hell I was and how I acted before this nightmare began.

Before this all happened, I was actually tough, I was a rock. I just really wanted my life back, I

craved those days at the park and most of all I missed my parents. I was determined to be free

again and was no longer going to live under the roof of a monster and be treated like shit. Like I

was nothing because I knew I was something. I always told myself that from that moment on. I

was sick of feeling like I was in an ever ending black hole. I payed attention from that point and

on. I studied the routines of the men that stayed in the house watching us but what I realized was,

they don’t actually watch us. These men think we're too scared to even try something so they

don’t take their task seriously. All of the guns on the table and not on their waist showed that

they were as foolish as someone who actually thought there was a pot of gold at the end of a

rainbow. I made an escape plan all in my head. It was too risky to write it on a paper so I thought

the escape mission over and over again in my head. I was in desperate need to be free - I knew

what I had to do.

The next day was the day I stopped being stepped all over, the one day I would recieve

my freedom. I came out of my room, quietly as ever due to me being so frightened about the idea
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of getting caught. I was as quiet as a cat which is actually extremely difficult. The house where I

was staying at the time had many rooms in it, it was almost like a hotel hallway. There I was,

jumping from one room to the other as sneaky as possible. I finally was done going through the

hallway that went for miles and miles. When I reached the kitchen, I realized it was going to be

more difficult than I thought to get to my freedom. Four men, two sitting down watching the

television that was on the counter, and two standing up laughing about a video they had seen on

the web earlier that day. Yes, they seemed distracted but I knew one tiny rookie mistake could

ruin my chance of getting out of this living nightmare. I looked carefully around the room to

hopefully spot any type of weapon so it would help me out in my situation. I really needed

something to protect me because the front door was past the kitchen. I spotted a gun on the

counter, I had to get it, I just had to. I got down on my knees and crawled my way to the gun.

Due to hesitation, the crawling took longer than expected. I managed to actually get there and I

was so happy that these men were facing the other direction than where I was coming from.

I keep referring to people as men because I never learned their names and there was

always only ​men ​around. Well I probably did, but I just didn’t pay attention when I was there.

The depression took over most of the time and I just focused on myself and my sadness.

I reached up to the counter and was trying to find my way to the gun with my fingertips.

It took me two minutes before I could actually find the damn gun. Once I had it in my hands, I

crawled back to where I originally was for “safety”. I had a plan, and it was to shoot one of these

monsters in the head and catch them by surprise and just run outside even though I didn’t know

what exactly was outside. Well that was I did alright, except it had a bit more complications. I

got up and and I shouted.

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“GET THE FUCK UP, GET UP NOW!” I said frightened as hell.

“You really don’t want to do this.” One of them said.

They all looked terrified and I’m guessing it was because there guns were nowhere near

them. One of them came charging at me and I really wish he hadn’t. As he was coming towards

me, I shot him ….. I shot him in the head. Blood was everywhere and when I say everywhere I

really mean everywhere. I was so mad so I just shot the rest of the men too. It was like I had no

control whatsoever of what I was doing. And for the first time ever, I was glad my dad would

always take me to the damn shooting range in my early teen years. Once I shot them all, I stood

there, in shock. I couldn’t move for at least thirty seconds. My eyes were popping out of my head

and my palms were as sweaty as someone who forgot to study for their calculus test. I heard

someone from the hallway coming out. I guess there was another person in the house that I didn’t

know about. I ran out of that place like crazy and I never stopped running. I didn’t make it very

far though, I guess the man in the restroom caught up to me. The man shot me in the leg and it

immediately dragged me down. The pain was agonizing, blood was splattered all over the floor

due to my leg oozing blood. Of course it hurt like hell but It didn’t stop me from trying to leave.

I was army pulling my way further away from the house, but then I realized this monster

continued coming after me. He was getting closer and closer so I turned around and managed to

get in a good position aiming at him with the gun that I had stolen.I had two more bullets so I

knew that I could no longer mess up this shot because it would mean everything would be over

for me and I would die. He was ten feet away from me, I missed my shot. I was crying and

crying because i thought i wasn’t going to get out of there. Then he was five feet away from me,

I knew I couldn’t afford to miss this shot. I focused and as he got right in front of me, I shot him
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in the face. He fell on top of me which injured me even more due to his size. I pushed him off of

me which took a cool minute because this man was so heavy. Once I got him off, I layed on the

ground as started to bawl my eyes out. I finally had hope again, I just had to hope no one else

was outside of this house a this time of night like the men who took me from the park that day

after school. As I was sobbing, I got up and I continued running with tears rushing down my face

like a waterfall. I was out of breath, you could hear me gasping for air from a mile away. I was

limping, but I was determined to get out of there. I made it to an alley, as soon as i got there, I

ripped the bottom part of my sweats and wrapped it around my leg where the gun had striked. I

had to apply pressure or else I would have bled out. As soon as I was done taking care of my leg,

I hid in a bush. I was there for a couple of hours, I needed to wait till the sun was up to try and

leave.

It was Chicago so I knew my way around since I grew up here. I stood up and I instantly

started running towards the city, which wasn’t very far where I had been. I ran towards my

grandmother's apartment building as fast as I could. I only stopped a couple of times to take long

breaths due to me being so tired. I didn’t stop for anyone though, even if a person tried to benefit

me in anyway because of my injury. I couldn’t trust anyone, anyone at all. As I ran, I thought of

all of the great things that could happen in my life now since I had escaped. I would finally be

reunited with my family, which is absolutely what I wanted because I miss my mom so much it

hurts. I just wanted her to hold me in her arms, I really needed that.

After a long hour and a half of finding my way to my abuelita’s apartment

building, when I arrived to her home I really couldn't process what I did. I actually escaped from

a horrible life that could have killed me. I stood outside for about 10 minutes just sitting on the
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steps thinking of what I would say to her. I finally went up the stairs and started to head my way

into her apartment. I knocked on the door, but received nothing in return for two whole minutes.

I thought I needed to be louder due to her age. I banged on the door, but not in a bad way that

would frighten someone. I banged twice, I heard footsteps approaching the door. I shed tears

immediately, but they were tears of joy. Happiness is what I felt, a feeling that I haven’t felt in a

long time. The door opened and I saw her, it was my abuelita. She didn’t recognize me and she

seemed to be scared a little because of my appearance.

“Abuelita, it’s me…..Dani.” I said as I was crying.

She looked at me and said nothing, but her facial expression said everything. She couldn’t

believe her eyes.

“Dani? Mija? Aye mi niña, mi niña!!!!” She said as she cried.

She hugged me and we both cried in eachothers arms for as long as we needed to. When she let

go, she had so many questions. I felt free to answer them for her, well only the ones I could.

The questions didn’t last very long, once she saw my leg she ran into her apartment and came out

with her car keys. She took me to the hospital where she cried even more when she saw all of the

bruises on my body and it hurt me emotionally because I didn’t want her to look at me and

realize what I went through. The hospital helped out a lot with my leg situation. It took a long

process but my leg ended up being fine. At the hospital, I felt suffocated. Doctors, police

officers, and machines took up my air. I freaked out at everyone, I just wanted to be alone. Long

story short after the hospital I went home with my grandma and everyone appeared to be there.

They were all just staring at me; my mom, tio’s, cousins, and friends. They looked at me just like

how my grandma did when she first saw me. There was a moment of silence, but I cracked it
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when I ran to into the arms of my mother. She apologized as we cried, but confusion hit me like

a truck because I didn’t know why she apologized. She had nothing to apologize for. My mom

explained to me why she apologized.

“This is all my fault, if I had been there this never would have happened. If I called you to make

sure you were okay, i-if i had picked you up from school early instead. It as all of my fault i

should have been there!” My mom said this to me as she bawled her eyes out. She was squishing

my cheeks together and looking at me in the eye as she spoke. I could tell my mother truly

believed this happened to me because of her.

“Mom this isn’t your fault, how were you suppose to know? This could have happened to anyone

so no, please don’t think like that.” I didn’t want her to think of herself this way.

The rest of my family continued to stare, but some were crying, mostly all of them. After the

awkwardness drifted away, I received love from so many people, something I didn’t receive for

years. My abuelita had my favorite dishes; pozole, milanesa, and tortas. We had a good time, but

I explained to my mom what happened to me. Two waterfalls appeared beneath her eyes. I

explained that I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want people to refer to me as “Daniela - the

girl who was kidnapped and raped.” We discussed it and she understood. After we spoke, we

went back into the living room with everyone else. I couldn’t be happier, I was with the people I

loved the most - my family.

What happened to me caused extreme trauma, I had nightmares every other day but I

know I can get through it. It just takes time, but I will never fully forget my past, it’s too painful

and important to. I know I need my story told and hey you never know, my very tale could be a

best seller.
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