Full Summary:
Her father sold her into the Human Sex Trade. For six agonizing years, men paid to be pleased by her. What happens when a raid forces her to live with a Military family? Will she finally have a safe place to call home?
Estanzia Vivaldi:
I remember what life was like before my father sold me, vaguely. But I do remember what it was like to have a normal childhood, well sort of. From what I do remember, my mother left when I was very young, leaving me in the care of my drug addicted father. I remember all the beautiful things I had collected, how he had packed them up and stored them all in storage, how he had denied me even the simplest comfort. I do know however that when he couldn't find his fix, he would be gone for days at a time, looking for a fix. He used to come home after being away for days and come into my room. He never did anything, but he did stare at me in a very weird way and I always felt uncomfortable around him.
When I was ten-years-old, my father sold me into the Human Sex Trade, and in doing so, collected over twenty thousand dollars. That's how much I was worth to him. He knew better then to sell my collectables, which would get too much attention on him and away from me. He also knew that if he reported me missing in a few days, he could also get the attention drawn away from him and into the media. He knew that he would have to be clean and sober for as long as the search was on and he had cleaned up just one week before selling me. He hid the money within my collectables so that detectives wouldn't find it in the house or anywhere on the property.
While in the custody of my new "family" members, I was aloud to watch the search for me as plans were laid down on where to send me. I was more valuable alive then I was dead, they all knew that. I had never taken my father's last name; my mother hadn't aloud me to. So Vivaldi was her last name and my last name. And the name Vivaldi sprung fear into the very heart of the Human Sex Trade. Because I had my mother's last name, the Russian Mob would be able to claim me if anything ever happened to my father or mother. My mother had made sure that her father would get sole custody of me in the event of hers or my father's death. I was glad to know, that at least, I had someone on the outside of this hell hole, to call and ask for help. But I was never aloud to go near a phone.
Instead, I was sent to Charleston, South Carolina to a house where there were other girls my age and older. I was told that I would be performing tasks for men who wanted to be pleased. At first, everybody wanted me, because I was so young. But when I got older, only the professionalized men wanted me. Four days after I turned sixteen, the raid came, sending me and the other girls over the boarder of being a civilian to being patients at Ft. Marshal. Some of the girls were pregnant and some of them had diseases that nobody wanted. My best friend, who had just been told that her parents were killed (because she had tried to escape), was in the worst shape possible. I also was in bad shape. I was six months pregnant, one of the reasons the men had stopped asking for me.
Now came the real test. Would we be accepted into this community of Military personnel? Or would we be thrown out like trash like we had been told? Would we be returned to our families? Would the Russian Mob come for us? Would all the men that had tortured us over the past few years be caught and jailed for having sex with a minor? For raping a minor?