A/N: Hello friends. I apologize for the pure length of time I have been away. I will be working on current, open stories once again, but this one kind of put the others on hold for a little while. It is a request fic from a woman who is living proof of everything the human spirit can endure. I can only hope I have done her ideas justice, that she enjoys this, and so do you.
As always with the nature of these kinds of stories, take care of yourselves. If you ever need to talk, my inbox is open, and I strongly suggest going to RAINN's website and finding the number to your local crisis center in the US. Outside of the US, the HotPeachPages offers a list of services by country. For immediate police or medical assistance, contact your country's emergency line. You cannot pour from an empty cup, so please, please take care of yourselves.
Thank you for the reads and reviews.
Always - DMAA
D/V, Sex Assault, and Child Abuse trigger potential throughout.
I Am the City
Ch 1.
She favoured the mornings, when the fog was just barely beginning to lift, before the city that never slept began to awaken. It was in these moments, as the giant slept next door, that she felt most at peace.
Nataliya
September 21, 2000
"Get up, you lazy girl."
She yelped as a cold hand reached beneath the warm covers, yanking her unceremoniously from her cocoon. "Leave me alone." She hazarded a glance at the clock on the bedside table, groaning at the appearance of three bright green numbers that told her that it was barely three in the morning. She had barely gotten in an hour ago, and she was exhausted. "Money on table from last night. I swear all of it."
"Getting up a little early ain't gunna kill ya." The gruff man before her pulled her standing, shaking her a little as he looked her over. A baby doll tee clung to her body, her lower half clothed only by a pair of underwear. She always felt naked when she slept, but she knew it was how he liked it. And, Mikey, with his tangled hair and prickly beard, his defined muscles, and his short temper, was not the kind of person she tried to displease.
His hands grabbed and rubbed over her breasts, pinching her nipples. She cringed as they hardened involuntarily. "You'll be fine in this," he purred. "Won't stay on long, anyhow."
"Stop scaring me. Who else is here?" she mewled, raking her fingers through her hair to try to hide her face a little better.
"Just some guys from the club. Why don't you give us a little show before bed, baby?" He pulled her flush against him, grinding his hips into her. She could smell the beer on his breath and the alcohol in his sweat that was so key to a chronic alcoholic. He was not as drunk as he could have been, and that scared her even more.
She pulled a face as she tried to step away, wishing she made more to pull herself out of the toxic place she had found herself in. But, she did not, and Mikey made her turn her income over to him, and since it was all under the table, she had very little recourse. She never saw a dime from it unless he sent her to the store with a twenty to buy more beer.
Olivia
September 21, 2000
Glancing up at the sound of footsteps near the door, Olivia found herself surprised to see a woman standing there looking about as lost as a kitten. Despite her attire which screamed sex worker, her visage was frightened, youthful, and, perhaps most importantly, foreign. Olivia could not help but wonder if the woman was even aware of where she was.
"How can I help you?" the detective asked as the woman's glance seemed to survey the room. She was looking for signs of danger, Olivia was certain of that much. Too many victims had come in in the years she had been a police officer for her to not recognize the signs and symptoms of victimhood.
"Officer at desk said to come up here," the woman replied, her accent thick, her English good but seeming to require a great deal of effort, as though she were translating in her head.
"Okay," Olivia said, standing and walking towards the victim. "My name's Olivia. I'm a detective. Why don't you take a seat and tell me what happened?"
The woman nodded, following the detective's guiding gesture. "They said you could make reports of rape," she said, tears filling her eyes. "I don't want to be deported. But, I can't – it's too much."
"Okay," the detective started, sitting the woman down and pulling a chair up close to her. "I'm not with INS. I'm not going to report you. Why don't you just tell me what happened? Were you raped?"
The woman nodded. "My – my, I don't know what he's called. I live with him, but I never loved him," the woman said, shaking her head. "He was helping me find my sister. I came to America to find her. But, he lied. He makes me do things to him and his friends. I am scared he followed me here." The woman trembled as she sat, her eyes constantly flicking around the room. Olivia felt her heart go out to the woman who had experienced nothing short of true terror.
"We can protect you," Olivia said. "You did the right thing coming here. What's your name?"
"Natliya," the young woman sniffed. "Nataliya Andreiko."
"Okay, Nataliya. How old are you?"
"Twenty eight," the woman answered, brushing the tears from her eyes before they had much of a chance to fall. Still, Olivia could see the struggle to not cry, and she handed Nataliya a box of tissues. This was a woman not accustomed to the violence of being sexually exploited. The best Olivia could guess was that she was newer to the country and newly tricked into exploitation.
"Do you know the man who is abusing you?" Olivia asked.
"Only as Mikey," Nataliya replied. "Please, I want get away from him, but he promised help me find my sister. I have to find her. "
Nodding, the detective made a few notes on the notepad on her desk. "What's your sister's name?" she asked.
"Sofiya Andreiko."
"Okay. Where are you from?"
"Kiev, in Ukraine," Nataliya answered, sucking on her lower lip. "My sister was taken to America as child. People who took her told police they dropped her in New York. They say that's the last they saw of her, would not tell police what happened after."
Pressing her lips together, Olivia's pen paused, hovering just above the pad. "When you say took, do you mean smuggled?" she asked.
"Yes," Nataliya answered. "I think. She was five."
Olivia's eyes widened. "She was trafficked, kidnapped?"
"Yes, that is word. Kidnapped. Police found men who brought her to America, but no her. She already bought. I was hoping -" She trailed off, her eyes going dark. "Mother still cries for her every night. Father, he drinks to make pain go away."
The detective nodded, not even able to fathom the level of pain that the family must have felt, especially knowing that the missing daughter had likely suffered. "I can look in our system to see if anyone with that name has had contact with the system, but if she was trafficked, she may have never had contact with the outside world. They may have even changed her name. How long ago did this happen?"
"Twenty three years. We are twins. My parents did not tell me she was brought to America. I found three years ago. I worked and worked to be able to afford to come here, to find her."
Olivia nodded. "Okay. We'll do what we can to help you. But, first, I want to make sure you're safe from Mikey. How long ago did he last force you to do anything to him or anyone else?"
"This morning," Nataliya murmured, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs. "He had two friends from the club over – I dance, at night, at club. He said it was entertainment. Taller man, he put his – he put his penis in my -" Nataliya seemed to struggle for the right word before she cried, covering her face with her hands. "It was first time anyone ever put themselves in my ass."
"Nataliya?" Olivia murmured, her voice soft. "I'm so sorry this has happened to you. I would really like to transport you to the hospital. They might be able to get DNA left on your body from these men, and we can prosecute them for everything they've done."
The Ukrainian woman shook her head. "I can't. They'll deport me. I have to find Sofiya."
"I'm not going to report you, and our ADA, our prosecutor, Abbie, she'll do everything in her power to get you what's called a U-visa so that you can stay here because you're a victim of a crime. They won't deport you, okay? I won't let them." Olivia pressed her lips together. She was only four years older than the woman before her, and she figured it was a sign of how differently her life could have gone. In so many ways, despite her personal struggles and the impact the job had on her, she was so glad that she had never been in any of the victims' shoes.
Slowly, Nataliya nodded. "Will you help me find my sister? I can't bear to think – if she going through this daily." The woman before her wrapped her arms around herself, squeezing her fingers so tightly into her skin, her skin turned sheet white, the blood forced away.
"I'll do what I can," Olivia said. "While we're at the hospital, we can do a DNA collection. Since you're Sofiya's twin, we can use your DNA to try to match it to any of our open cases. If we can get pictures of you when you were a child, too, we can run your image through our system to see if we ever encountered any child pornography or trafficking cases with an unknown child. Since you're identical, we can fudge the system parameters a little to account for any differences developed as you aged, but we should be able to see if we've ever encountered her.
Nataliya nodded. "Anything. I call my mother for pictures. We have many of Sofiya before she was taken." Slowly, her grip on herself relaxed as she stared at Olivia. The detective had to remember that she was probably the first person to offer genuine help since Nataliya had stepped foot on American soil. Her experience in America, until that point, had been one of deceit and abuse.
"Okay. Let's get you to the hospital, then, and while we're there, you can call your mother. Will she be awake right now, if she's in Kiev?"
The woman nodded. "It only nine there. She not sleep much." Nataliya looked at her knees. "I think it will kill her soon."
Pressing her lips together, Olivia nodded. "When was the last time you spoke with her?"
"When I first came to America," Nataliya whispered. "Mikey never lets me use phone."
"I'm sorry, Nataliya. How long have you been in America?"
"Two years," the Ukrainian replied, sucking her lower lip between her teeth as she huddled in the chair. "I want so bad go home. But, I can't leave without knowing what happen to Sofiya." The woman blinked back tears, and Olivia could not help but get the sense that she had come from a very loving family. This was not a woman who had to be tough growing up or learn street smarts. She was compassionate and had such an open heart that Olivia could see it even through two years of abuse.
Olivia nodded. "When we get to the hospital, Nataliya, you can call your mom and let her know you're safe and we're going to do everything we can to find Sofiya."