Member-only story
Jogging Straight Into a Life of Pain
Love was supposed to make you better, not worst. Why was I jogging straight into a life of unbelievable spiritual and physical humiliation?
I’m a survivor.
I’m living proof of the fact that it doesn't matter where you started. It matters where you end.
At seventeen, I ran away with an older man. He was not who I thought he was. The person I fell in love with was a construct he designed especially for me. The facade matched my naive notion of love and preyed upon my ignorance of the realities of life.
I fled from Chicago, Illinois, to Cleveland, Ohio, against the advice of my mother, father, friends. I left my three-year-old son with my mom to pursue a career as a model. I wanted a better life.
It turned out the man was a pimp, and my fellow models-to-be were prostitutes. I was slated to be the newest addition to the brothel.
Resistance
“I will never be a seven-dollar whore.” The words echoed in my mind as I sat back in the soft leather seat of a limousine. My driver, ever attentive, asked if I needed anything. I told him I didn’t as I sipped my Smart Water. I would not tell him we were riding past the hotel where I had stood up to Bella.
