The Stolen Chapters

What They Took From Me

Human trafficking.

Two words

that can never explain

what they took from me.

They didn't just take my freedom.

They took pieces of my trust,

my innocence,

my ability to feel safe

in a world that was supposed to protect me.

They made me feel like

my body wasn't mine.

Like my voice didn't matter.

Like saying no

was something I wasn't allowed to say.

And when it was finally over,

people thought the nightmare ended.

But it didn't.

Because you can take someone

out of the situation,

but sometimes

the situation doesn't leave them.

It follows you home.

It follows you into your sleep.

Into crowded rooms.

Into relationships.

Into mirrors.

Into the moments

when someone gets too close

and your body remembers

what your mind is trying to forget.

I learned what fear feels like.

I learned what silence feels like.

I learned how to disappear

while standing right in front of people.

And sometimes I wonder,

Who would I have been

if this never happened to me?

Would I trust people easier?

Would I love without being afraid?

Would I look at myself

without remembering everything

I survived?

But I refuse to let

what they did to me

become the definition of who I am.

Because they took my freedom,

but they didn't take

my future.

They took my voice for a while,

but they didn't take it forever.

They tried to make me feel powerless,

but I am still here.

And that means

they didn't win.

I am more than what happened to me.

I am more than the memories.

More than the fear.

More than the scars

no one can see.

I am a survivor.

And maybe healing

doesn't mean forgetting.

Maybe healing means

remembering without letting

the memory control me.

Maybe it means learning

that my body belongs to me again.

That my voice belongs to me.

That my life belongs to me.

So when you hear

the words "human trafficking,"

don't just hear a statistic.

Hear a person.

Hear someone

who had dreams.

Someone who had a future.

Someone who deserved safety.

Someone who deserved to be protected.

Someone like me.

They may have stolen chapters

from my story,

but they do not get

to write the ending.

I am still writing.

And this time,

I hold the pen.