Please, Let Me Go--The Horrific True Story of a Girl's Life In the Hands of Sex Traffickers by Caitlin Spencer

Author:Caitlin Spencer [Caitlin Spencer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781786068408
Publisher: John Blake Publishing
Published: 2017-04-06T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 9

On the first day, it seemed fine. Harry and Gretchen were in a room when I got there, a waiting room with a big fish tank, bright and clean. There was a desk for me and rooms out the back where the ‘girls’ worked. In fact, it stayed fine for a week or so, then Gretchen told me that they had a spare room for me so I could move in. I was keen to get away from Vernon as he was an oddball, so I saw this as a safe haven. It would be where I would get my visa and after that I could do whatever I wanted. I didn’t plan to work there forever, I would be able to recreate myself once I had residency, just as I’d hoped.

Every cliché you have ever heard came at me as soon as I did move in.

Harry needed to take my passport because it was required for the application.

Harry needed to take my mobile phone because it would be distracting while I worked.

Harry needed to send his driver Doug with me every time I left the building to make sure I was safe.

They controlled me from the start, and I just went along with it, because, after all, I was the girl who never said ‘no’.

It all changed so fast. Once Harry and Gretchen gave me a spare room, they told me I would have to pay board but they never said how much, they just said they would deduct it from my wages. Harry said I needed to pull my weight a bit once I lived there. I needed to make more money. ‘You need to pay this and this and this,’ he’d tell me, meaning all the visa costs and lots of other things he tried to confuse me about, but I don’t think they were real.

It wasn’t long before they both told me that I would have to work there as one of their ‘girls’. ‘It won’t be often,’ Gretchen explained, ‘it’s just that you’re costing us so much and we really do want to help you.’ I’d done it before, I told myself – how bad could it be? If the only way to earn was to work as a prostitute, how could it be worse? I could disassociate, as I always had. I even had to do massages as the front for the place, but that wasn’t often – we all knew what I was there for. Harry and Gretchen even took me out to get dresses as they had this notion that they were running some sort of high-class establishment. I don’t do dresses – I never have – but I remember wearing a long, red expensive one with a stupid flower clip in my hair that they said was perfect. They also got me to agree to wear lots of make-up that one of the other girls applied for me. All of it had to be paid back to them though. Every

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