Trafficked -- Beaten -- Trapped
When eighteen-year-old Stacy Degray sets off to visit Felipe, a charming guy she met on the internet, she has no idea that she is being lured to his home country Malaguay to be auctioned off as a soldier's bride. All...
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Paris! With a smile, I pin the postcard I received yesterday to my corkboard. The picture collage is almost perfect. Took me the better part of a year. Meeting people online is one thing but convincing them to spend money—even if only for a postcard and stamp—takes some effort. Though considering I now have over thirty exotic foreign destinations on my board, I shouldn't complain.
My Skype blares and Felipe's picture flashes across the screen with the video call alert. My heart skips a few beats. I rush over to the laptop on my desk and with an eager hand, move the cursor toward the small telephone icon of the screen. In my excitement, I almost misclick.
Felipe's face fills the screen. His wide smile drives heat to my cheeks. "Hey gorgeous. How is your day?"
"Fine. How 'bout yours?" I lower myself onto the chair, biting my lip with excitement. The chats with him are the highlight of my days.
"Not so good. My cousin bullied me again."A sparkle ignites in his eyes; as usual, he's only joking.
I play along and give him my best sad face. "What did Miguel do this time? "
"He called me a lovesick puppy 'cause all I ever do is talk about you."
My lips curl to a smile as bright as the sun outside. Butterflies twirl like crazy in my stomach. I still can't believe my luck. When I first sent him my picture before hooking up on Skype, I was sure he'd break it off, but we still talk or message at least once a day. He's so amazing.
His face freezes on the screen.
Sugar, not again.
Why can't the internet in his country be better? Lately, this happens during every single call. As I wait for the signal to reconnect, I caress his gorgeous face on the screen with my thumb. The warmth of his dark brown eyes shines back at me, reflecting his adorable smile. Two dimples complete the image of perfection.
The call disconnects, and a message pops up moments later. Sorry, connection is terrible today.
I peck away at the keyboard. It's fine. And sorry I got you into trouble with Miguel.
His response appears within seconds; he is such a fast typer. Don't worry, you're worth it.
That makes me grin like an idiot again.
More words appear in the message box. Hey, have you thought some more about my idea?
I roll my eyes. Not again. Visiting him is simply not possible, even if I would give my left arm to make it happen. I told you my parents won't allow it.
But you're 18 and don't need their permission.
If it were that easy. Since I still live under their roof, they feel they are entitled to control my life. My gaze lingers on the postcards stuck to the corkboard and I snort with bitterness. In a moment of total insanity, I had asked my parents the day after my high school graduation if I could take a gap year and plan a trip around the world. Needless to say, it didn't go well.
