AN: Hey guys, recently in my travels, a serious issue took on a new light in my life. I won't say whether it was personal experience or not, but it is a grave matter and I want to bring awareness to it. This story is about the effects of sexual abuse, however relatively minor (Lab Rats is a kids show, so I'm not going to go very far with it), and it will expose you to the greater issue of sex trafficking.

This takes place in the first season of Lab Rats when the bionics are still relatively new to the world, and this is rated a high T. I do not skip out on the details or the feelings, so proceed with caution.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lab Rats or any of the canon characters, just the plot.

I'm a mess.

Maybe I always have been, but now I've realized it.

Bree sucked in a shuddering breath. Saturday night was a mistake. A huge mistake.

Rushing waves painted the background to the brightly lit marketplace, rolling in the salty breeze with them. A strange, yet awe-inspiring array of torches, lanterns, and multicolored neon lights flickered with the beat of the drums and swayed with the movement of all the people below. Beautiful green trees draped between two-story and three-story buildings to create a lush canopy to hide the starless night.

Bree started as the bathroom door squealed open, and she stepped back from the blue stall so that whoever had entered wouldn't see her standing there. She was thankful that she could lock herself into safety within the stall, but she wished that it gave her more privacy.

I'm just glad it shields me from those I fear, she thought to herself.

Aromas of such incredible tastiness wafted through the air – frying fish, oven-fresh pasta, sizzling meats of every kind, piping-hot vegetables of an exotic assortment, and the sweetness of smoothies to add just a touch of contrast to the rest.

As extravagant as the smells, the music added its own color to the exciting environment. Layering over the drumbeats and shakers were xylophone melodies, twittering flutes, singing violins, an assortment of guitars, trumpet trios, and wild voices. Conch shells gave a beautiful eeriness to the music, further ramping up the excitement.

Bree let her breath out, relief flooding her as the other girl left the bathroom. Finally, she was alone again.

She leaned against the tile wall and wondered how she could continue like this. She couldn't hide in the bathroom forever, but how could she go out… there? After what had happened, she wasn't sure she'd ever have the confidence to conquer the world again.

The music picked up intensity, and a crowd began gathering. Bree had been strolling through the streets and wondering at the gorgeous displays when she caught sight of this. Her curiosity drew her in, and before she knew it, she was swept up into the thick of all the people surrounding a group of tribal dancers putting on a show with fire. The bionic felt anticipation rise within her, and her smile was as wide as her eyes were.

People were pressing all around her to get a view of the display, so she didn't immediately notice the man who had sidled up behind her. She felt him brush against her butt, and she shifted uncomfortably; she dismissed it as an accident.

"Bree, are you in there? Bree, come on, you need to come out!" a male voice shouted through the bathroom door, followed by pounding. The bionic jumped in fright, and she pinched the bridge of her nose as it brought back the emotions.

What came next shocked her, it shocked her so much that she lost her train of thought, she lost her interest in the show, she lost her ability to move. He was rubbing her butt, pressing his fingers into her flesh, massaging it, stroking it-

Getawaygetawaygetaway. She choked, shoving her way forward. But people were packed in so tight that she couldn't get anywhere, not really. She was trapped – there was no escape.

He grabbed her, touching her with more fervor, with desperation. Without thinking, her hand flew behind her and hit him, hit his hands away. And finally she screamed.

"Bree, we know you're in there – you need to come out! School's over!"

"Leave me alone!" she screamed.

There was no response.

But no sound had escaped from her lips – she had not screamed. No, it was the scream of a nearby woman, and hers was not of terror, but anger. Hers was enraged.

The spell of shock broken, Bree whirled around to see a short local woman dragging the man away from her, shouting at him in a flurry of words foreign to her ears. He ducked away, scrambling through the crowd and out of sight.

Bree turned to the woman, who spoke to her kindly. The bionic was unable to understand a word she had said, but that didn't matter.

"Thank you," was all Bree could manage to say, and she was certain that the woman in turn didn't understand what she had said. But Bree was not worried; her expression of terror mixed with gratitude said it all.

Bree glanced back at where the man had disappeared, afraid that she might see his white unbuttoned shirt blowing in the wind as he came for her again.

"Bree, Adam went to get Mr. Davenport and Tasha."

"Yeah, we weren't going to let Principal Perry go in there and get you, and obviously we can't."

"Please, just come out!"

Bree hadn't slept in her capsule for the last two nights. She couldn't.

She had tried to, she really had – but her heart was always pumping, her nerves frayed. Never before had she been afraid of her own brothers.

Even when she had found and locked herself in a room where she could sleep alone, the nightmares simply plagued her sleep. There was no escape.

"Bree, why are you in there?"

"Please, talk to us. Come out and talk to us."

She knew that the boys were confused about why she had made a special effort to avoid them for the last day and a half, and she felt bad. They had nothing to do with what had happened. Neither had Mr. Davenport.

But whenever she was around them, she remembered so much better. She remembered him so much better.

She was terrified. And she hated it.

"Breeeeee. What's wrong? Why can't you tell us?"

"Come out so we can go home – we can help!"

No, you can't, Bree shivered. It's a problem with me.

They wouldn't understand. They wouldn't understand how something so… harmless could mess her up like this.

That was it.

They couldn't understand how it really wasn't harmless.

Waking up for school – routine. Actually, it wasn't, because she hadn't been in her capsule.

Getting ready for school – routine. Actually, it wasn't, because she couldn't bear to be around the males of her family. She had to wait until they were all in the kitchen so that she could sneak down to the lab to do what she needed to do.

And then standing, encased by glass, made her tremble. If it locked, she would be trapped in there. Trapped like a doll, a mere toy. She was the man's toy.

Walking to school earlier that morning – routine. Actually, it wasn't.

She didn't walk with her brothers that morning.

She walked alone. And she was afraid.

Would he come up behind her again?

No, that was silly. She had sped back home after the incident, leaving him behind in Central America. Well, physically.

He lived on in her imagination.

In her nightmares.

She continually glanced around, watching for any other creepy middle-aged men who might approach her, but none did. Even the boys and elderly men were now a threat, but none of them approached her either.

She didn't any feel better.

She was just waiting for it to happen again, and she felt worse and worse about it. She felt worse and worse about herself.

How could it not happen again? she wondered. They must see something in me, something so awful that I'm not even a person. I'm just an object for them to use. That's all I'm worth. That's my only purpose.

I feel so dirty.

What's wrong with me?

Can anything ever be right again?

She sunk into a crouch, burying her face in her hands. She could feel the sting of tears welling up in her throat and her eyes.

And she hated it.

"Hey Bree, did you get my texts yesterday? I got a gift card to the new smoothie shop in town, and I thought I'd spend it with you."

Bree had looked up from her locker into Owen's eyes. In her heart she knew they were kind, but to her tainted, fearful mind they had become malicious, desiring. They wanted a piece of her, they wanted to grab her, to keep her….

Will you touch me like that too? she had shamefully wondered. Are you going to hurt me too?

"…but we can still go today after school. How would- hey! Bree, where are you going?"

Bree hadn't replied, rushing off to class. She couldn't bear to be around him anymore.

"What have you done to me?" Bree asked the man in a whisper. She couldn't picture his face for the life of her, and maybe that was a good thing.

But maybe that was a bad thing.

Because all of a sudden, everyone was a culprit. He could have been anyone.

Bree shivered, wiping away the tears that were leaking down her cheeks.

Their eyes. So many. Divide them by two, and that was the number of boys in the room with her. They must all be staring at her, they must all see what she was. No, she wasn't intelligent. She wasn't independent, she wasn't a bionic hero who was supposed to save the world. She was a plaything for them, she was supposed to give them a good time.

How could they resist?

What were they waiting for?

Bree had shot to her feet, weaving her way through the desks and bursting out the classroom door before the teacher could stop her. She bolted down the hall, shoving her way into the girls' bathroom. Into safety.

They couldn't see her here.

"Bree, honey, I'm coming in now," soothed the sweet voice of Tasha as she entered through the bathroom door.

"No, please, go away," Bree croaked.

"Sweetie, open up the door. We need to talk about this."

After a long, numb moment, Bree rose to her feet and unlocked the stall, letting it swing open. Tasha's face was worn with worry, and she rushed in and hugged the bionic girl. After flinching, Bree hugged her back.

"Bree, what's going on?" Tasha asked, pulling away. Her soft eyes searched for the reason, but they could not decipher the tears.

Bree sucked in a shuddering breath, saying "It's… it's..." Embarrassment colored her cheeks, and she hastily wiped away the fresh tears springing from her eyes.

"It's okay, sweetie."

Bree swallowed back a sob. "I was… t-touched. I was sexually ab-abused." She buried her face in Tasha's shoulder, gripping her orange shirt tightly.

"When? When did this happen? Who did it?" Tasha sounded horrified, and it only brought on more tears for the bionic.

"I don't know. It happened S-saturday night, I snuck out, I ran t-to Mexico to see what this holiday festiva-val was like to have fun, and he- and he-"

Tasha held her, shhing her comfortingly. "It's okay, it's okay…."

"I feel so worthless," Bree sobbed.

Tasha pushed her out so that she could see her eyes, grasping her shoulders with force. "Don't you ever think that again, Bree Davenport. It doesn't matter what anyone says or does to you, you are an amazing young woman. You are strong, kind, smart, and beautiful inside and out. You are my daughter now, Bree, and you are worth everything to me, to Donald, and to your brothers. You. Are. Not. Worthless."

Bree swallowed, nodding. She couldn't pull her eyes away from her feet.

"Come on, sweetie. We're going to go home and tell the boys what happened."

"What?" Bree exclaimed, looking up in horror. "No!"

"Yes," Tasha said firmly. "They need to know so we can take care of you. You aren't going to go through this alone."

"What can they do?" Bree asked. "They wouldn't understand." They'd laugh at me.

"You'd be surprised – they're going to make sure that it won't happen again."

The two of them stepped out into the hallway, and Bree's anxiety peaked as her brothers all rushed to hug her.

"Are you okay?"

"What's going on?"

"We were so worried about you!"

Bree couldn't help a small smile at how much they cared for her. She was still scared, but all of a sudden, she didn't feel so alone.

And she knew that she'd be okay.

AN: Yeah, this is a real issue. If any of you out there have experienced anything like this and are really struggling with it, please find help. Talk to a trusted adult – you don't have to go through the experience alone. Sexual abuse is NOT okay, and it is mind-boggling that there is an entire well-oiled machine of a market built around this terrible crime. Scenarios like the one in this story can be the gateway to becoming trapped within the machine of slave-trafficking. It is NOT okay that anyone should have to go through this.

While women and children are the primary targets, even boys can become victims. This can happen to anyone, no matter who you are or where you live, though if you are a teenage girl living in an urban area, you are far more likely to go through this. Girls out there, support each other and always be extremely careful wherever you go, whatever you do. Boys, take care of the ladies in your lives – mothers, sisters, friends, girlfriends. And watch out for yourselves as well. The one thing that will keep away a predator is the clear protection of another man.

I don't have anything against middle-aged men or Mexico, but it is fact that this happens, and what took place in this story was one possible scenario. And to clarify, I'm not saying that girls and women are weak and need the protection of boys and men, but that when you are being abused, it's not easy to stick up for yourself. And guys are just naturally physically stronger than girls, so predators fear getting beaten up by a guy who is emotionally attached to the victim. All young children should be guarded.

Always act with caution, and never forget your inherent worth – you are worth the world, and no one can change that. What Tasha said to Bree applies to all of us (guys, change the words woman and beautiful to man and handsome/great). If you don't have a support system, find a counselor, a close friend, someone so you don't have to go through something like that alone.

Don't let another person taint you; always remember that it is their crime, their sin, their guilt. Not yours. God made you perfectly in his image, and you are worth more than all the stars in the galaxy combined. You shine brighter, and you are far more incredible. You are a human being, and no one can ever take that away from you. Ever.

Pray for the victims so that they might find healing. Pray for the criminals so that their hearts will be changed and that they repent and change their evil ways.

God Bless.