I’m not sure every girl would jump at a chance to play a prostitute, but I did. When Kirstie Walrath messaged me on facebook to ask if I would be free to do it, my answer was a firm “absolutely.”

Not only did I want to help raise awareness about the silent plague of sex trafficking, I also looked at it as a chance to look inside the mind of a young woman who never got the chance to be a normal little girl. It’s wicked, disgusting, shocking, and unthinkable. How would she look at her life?  She would try to give herself a sliver of control, and try to convince herself it was something she wanted. She would lie every time she saw anything that reminded her of the life that was stolen from her.

Memorizing the monologue was the hardest part honestly. It took lots of pacing and muttering to myself to finally get it word perfect. Kirstie gave me a few pointers on what she wanted to see from me, but gave me freedom to interpret what I though the piece was saying.

The day of the event came. I threw on makeup and my black dress, said a prayer, and stepped to the front. I bowed my head and clasped my hands behind my back. I dropped Emily like a wet winter coat, and Lacy came out. Lacy, the shattered china doll, the angry little girl, the woman who isn’t even seen as human anymore, just a body to be used and paid for. Lacy, the girl who represents so many princesses whose glow has been dimmed by neon lights and heavy makeup.

These are the girls with souls that the Rescuer has a passion for.

This one’s for you, Lacy.

I raised my head.

“When I grow up, I want to be a prostitute.”