Fact: Of the more than 23,500 runaways reported to NCMEC in 2018, one in seven were likely victims of child sex trafficking. That's over 3300 children.
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Chapter Two
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Suzie was the best in the business, Daddy Ken told her all the time and so did Uncle Sean, saying things like, "You were made to do this!" Calling her what they considered to be affectionate nicknames like "Baby girl," or "Little precious." If they were really eager for her, they would call her their little baby slut or baby whore. She knew those last two nicknames weren't good ones, but Suzie never complained, Suzie never cried unless she was supposed to cry, and most importantly, Suzie never said no.
She had fought when she was found, but after a few days with her first costar, Little Timmy, she learned. She didn't want to get beaten, she didn't want to be hung up and whipped like Timmy told her he had been. She didn't want to be screamed at either. Uncle Sean and Daddy Ken had done so much screaming at her when they grabbed her off the street. She couldn't think when she was being screamed at and she knew the only way to not be screamed at was to be a good little girl. She didn't want what happened to her that one night to happen to her again either, when Daddy Ken, Uncle Sean and Timmy's Daddy and his Uncle Sam brought her into a bedroom and all of them took turns with her. The tears had been real that day, and the pain and the bleeding. She knew the only way for that to never happen too, was to be a good little girl. If following orders was good, then Little Suzie might be the best little girl in the world.
She never messed up on her name, either. Never once responded to her real name the couple times they had used it to test her. One time she took a chance, rolling her eyes and going, "That isn't my name anymore. That was another little girl. A little girl who didn't know what it meant to really feel good." They never tested her again. She was Little Suzie.
She had said her name to herself, over and over again, but she was afraid she'd talk in her sleep and say it, so instead, she would nick pens or pencils when she could. Hide them, and any time she came across a piece of paper, she would write her old name on it, and then crumple it in a little ball and swallow it. She wasn't Timmy, she was Suzie but she would never forget her other name. She'd keep it all inside of her. Her name written hundreds, maybe even thousands of times.
Unless she was told otherwise, Suzie could act like she really loved what was happening when the cameras were on her. She could do it when Daddy Ken and Uncle Sean brought company over too. Suzie played well with others. Suzie often flirted with Daddy Ken, and sometimes even Uncle Sean, so they would think she was the best little girl in the world. She would bat her lashes and sit on their laps, legs spread wide over their knees, rubbing herself against them. "Do you want me?" She'd coo into their ear.
"Yes," They would say, their voice getting lower. huskier, and Suzie could tell they were ready for her, which would make her wiggle harder on whichever man it was, lap.
"I want you too, Daddy," her voice was still that little girl cooing voice Daddy Ken loved so much, the voice that told him what a good little girl she was, the voice that made him think she loved being his little baby whore. Or, if it were for Uncle Sean, she'd use his name. "You treat me so good, Daddy. And all I want to do is treat you good, too. Can I treat you good, Daddy? Can I treat you good, Uncle Sean?" More batting of her lashes, as if she were asking for a very special treat.
Of course she could treat them good. Daddy Ken and Uncle Sean never minded when Suzie took charge, in fact, they loved it. She could do the same thing in her movies, too. She could climb in a stranger's lap, rub against him and whisper into their ear, just loud enough so the microphones would pick it up, that she had forgotten to put panties on under her pretty little dress.
She was good at the most common plot to her movies, yelling, "No, please, don't hurt me!" while tears fell down her cheeks, real tears, then, at a certain point, start moaning and talking about how good it felt and then start saying, "Please, don't stop!" Or she could do the reverse and start out a willing partner, then beg and cry for whoever was doing it to her to stop. "Please," she'd cry, her tears rolling down her face, brow furrowed in pain, a look of agony behind the tears . "It's so big! It's too big! You're going to split me in two!"
She played her role, both on and off camera so well that nobody had the slightest clue she hated it. That she only got through all of it by picturing her body becoming that of a monster, her fingers becoming ten small knives, her teeth becoming razor blades, her tongue something that could inject people with venom. And she would picture in her head that every thrust every stroke, every move they made, she was hurting them, poisoning them, and they were so caught up in the pleasure of it that they didn't even realize until it was too late that they were being killed. She liked to pretend that when they finished off, that was the last of them. Not a finishing orgasm, but an emptying of the last of their essence, the shuttering and moaning were the throes of death.
It was this imaginary game she played that got her through, made it so she could do everything she did. The batting of her lashes, the wiggling, the suggestive dialog, it wasn't that she was seducing these men, she was softening them up for the kill.
It could even help her justify why sometimes it felt good. When just the right things were done and she was in the right frame of mind, she'd find herself falling into it, waves of pleasure rolling over her. It made her feel so guilty until the killing game came to her.
Now she knew, she wasn't having an orgasm over the sex, she was having one over the thought of whoever was was violating her, dying.
She never let anyone know what her real thoughts were. She learned to code what she said out loud to something she was thinking. When she cried out "Daddy" It meant, "Asshole." When she said she wanted to be good to someone, what she meant was, 'Let me kill you. You need to die.' So on and so forth. That might have sounded difficult, but Suzie was surprised at how easy it was. You just reversed things in your head. Yes means no and no means yes, and Suzie lived like her entire life now was nothing but one, long, opposite day. Affectionate gestures weren't affectionate, they were hunting tools.
The only time she didn't have these death fantasies was when she made movies with other kids, which wasn't often, thankfully. She knew they were all victims too, and she didn't want to kill them. Their Daddies, and even on occasion, their Mommies were a different story. She'd love to take them all out, as slowly and painfully as possible. Bat her lashes, swish her behind, rub up against them, until they were so overcome they took her, and then she'd kill them, her whole body one huge weapon.
This ability to act as if she really was some sex starved child who enjoyed what was happening to her had other uses too. She didn't have to live in a basement all the time, Daddy Ken let her sleep upstairs in a real bedroom at most of the places they stayed in. The last three places they moved to, she didn't even have to go to the basement unless it was time to make a movie or entertain someone. She always slept in her own room. Yes, sometimes Daddy Ken or Uncle Sean came and slept with her, which she didn't like, but it was better than the basement, and they were just as likely to join her in the basement too. She could sometimes even go outside too, as long as Daddy Ken or Uncle Sean was with her. She was always a good girl too. She never tried to run. She would sit on the grass, if there was grass, legs crossed under her, soaking in the sun. Or, if the house had a swing set, she'd play on that. Sometimes Uncle Sean or Daddy Ken would set up a sprinkler if it was hot, and she could play with that. She didn't have a swimsuit, and if the place was secluded, as most of them were, she'd just take off her clothes and play naked in the water, knowing that's what Daddy Ken and Uncle Sean wanted her to do.
The last three times they moved, she wasn't tied, gagged, and kept in the box either. Daddy Ken and Uncle Sean almost never traveled together, they often didn't even live together, but Uncle Sean was over almost every day. Those last three moves, Suzie was allowed to ride in the front seat of the van with Daddy Ken. She could look out the window, watch the scenery pass. She could see other kids, going back and forth, from school or some other activity. All of them looking like her, yet entirely unlike her or the other kids she'd made movies with, too. These kids looked wide eyed and even the older ones, the ones that probably were having sex themselves, looked innocent. Probably because they wanted to have sex with the person they were doing it with. Someone their own age or maybe a little older or younger, someone who took them out for a hamburger or to a movie and then, after a certain amount of time, they both agreed it would be okay.
Occasionally, she did see another kid, most often a girl, but sometimes a boy, with that same haunted look she had whenever she wasn't pretending to be a killer on the prowl. If they were driving past, she would raise her fingers in a half wave.
If they saw it, they almost always returned it.
The wounded knew how to spot each other. It was like some secret club nobody wanted to belong to, but managed to have a whole lot of members anyway.
Her acting abilities gave her freedom too. She realized that one day when Daddy Ken left her in the van to go into a restaurant to get food for them. Sometimes they stopped and went into the restaurant, but Daddy Ken was in a hurry that day, so take out it was.
There was a convenience store right next door to the restaurant. Suzie had been in them before with Daddy Ken or Uncle Sean. She knew they sold things like candy, gum, and soda. There was a five dollar bill in one of the cup holders. She took it, got out of the van and went to the little store. She bought the first candy she could see, a Hershey bar. That was good, she liked chocolate, Daddy Ken wouldn't think it was odd that she bought chocolate. As she paid the clerk, it was taking everything she had not to scream, "Help me! I'm being held captive by the guy driving a dark green van over at the restaurant, save me!" But something told her this was not the time to make her stand, that if she did, she might not succeed and then she'd lose everything. And, even worse, the clerk, that greasy haired man who smelled of cigar smoke and onions, might ask Daddy Ken if he could have her for a bit. Maybe he had a lot of money, so Daddy Ken would agree. So, she accepted her change with a bright smile to the clerk and forced herself not to hurry back to the van, but to walk as if everything was perfectly fine.
Daddy Ken had been standing outside the van, a greasy bag of food in his hand, and looking around frantically. She forced herself to smile brightly when he saw her and to skip over, making her look even younger. Daddy Ken loved it when she acted more like she was nine, the age when they first took her, instead of eleven. She kept that smile plastered to her face until she was close enough to see Ken wasn't smiling, and was looking at her in an expression of mixed anger and worry. "Where were you?" he demanded.
She put on her most puzzled expression, tempering it with sadness. "I'm sorry, Daddy, I-I just wanted some chocolate." She held out the candy bar as proof.
"You know you're never supposed to leave the van unless me or your Uncle Sean are with you!" Ken said, his voice angrier than she was used to. As angry as it had been when they first took her, walking home from school and she'd fought so hard to get away. "If you wanted a chocolate bar, you should have asked me, I'd have gone and gotten you one."
It wasn't hard for her to get tears in her eyes and for her lip to tremble. She might be in serious trouble, but she had to see this out, see if she could get away with it. "I'm so sorry, Daddy," she said, looking as if nothing could hurt her more than to see Ken was upset with her. "I just thought I'd get one myself, so you wouldn't have to be bothered with it. You didn't even want to go into the restaurant to eat, so I know you're in a hurry." She sniffled and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. "Please don't be mad at me!"
He frowned and looked unsure of what to do, then he shrugged his shoulders, probably realizing that it was okay, she had come back. "All right, sweetie," he said, "No harm done. Just ask me first before you run off. I worry about you."
What are you worried about? she thought, that I'm going to meet up with someone who will take me and do unspeakable things to me? Too late for that. But she threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly, until he hugged her back, a bit awkward because of the bags of food. "I'm so sorry," she said, in that same sob filled voice. Then she looked up at him, arms still around him and batted her eyes. "I'll make it up to you later, I promise."
He looked as if he was going to give one of his groans and she could feel it stirring under his pants. It had a thousand names, and when she was in front of a camera, or with someone who wanted her to, she could use all those words. But, in her own head, it was "it." It didn't deserve to be called anything else. It was mean and it made men crazy. Men thought they controlled it, because it wanted them to think that. In truth, it had a mean intelligence and it controlled the men. But she also knew there was a time and place to let it be in charge, and in public like this was not the right time. So she stepped away from Daddy Ken to let him get some control over it. "I'm hungry, Daddy," she said. "Can we go so we can eat? When we're done with our meal, we can share the chocolate bar."
"No," he said, "You can have the whole bar for yourself."
She had grinned at him, a wide, happy grin. It wasn't hard either, because on the inside, she was smiling. She had proven that she could get away. Maybe not for long, but he forgave her for going and getting a chocolate bar. He thought she could be trusted now, that she would always return to him.
She had a goal, she wasn't going to be like other kids, killed or given to someone else who would be even worse to her than Daddy Ken or Uncle Sean. Her first step was to make everyone think she liked this life, she liked having sex with people, even though she was too young. She had Daddy Ken and Uncle Sean convinced she was some sex crazed child and that was good. She knew one of the reasons why her movies did so well was because everyone said she really seemed to enjoy it.
Her second step was to get them to trust her and she'd done that. She knew the third step would be to get them to trust her to the point where she could be gone long enough to get away.
Or, if that didn't work, she needed to find a way to kill them.
Trying as hard as I can to get this finished so I can finish posting and be done with this story. Pretty clear nobody is too keen on it, but I want to finish it. Hard though, because I can only type w/one hand unless I can dictate to the neighbor.