Life after human trafficking
I was promised a better life in the UK, but I had no idea I was being lured into a terrible trap
Exclusive | As told to Lauren Crosby Medlicott | *All names have been changed | Trigger warning: sexual assault
Resources for victims of human trafficking are listed at the foot of this article, but if you are in immediate danger, dial 999
To look at me, you’d never guess the tragic story of how I came to live in the UK. You might notice my Eastern European accent, my rainbow coloured hair, and vibrant personality, but you would never – even if you got to know me – learn that I was trafficked into the UK for sex.
I grew up in an Eastern European country where poverty is a friend to many. My parents separated when I was young - the youngest of three girls - and I stayed with my mother. But when my mum lost her job working at a local hospital, her care and protection for me grew extinct.
I ate, but not much. I went to school, but not much. I saw friends, but not much. She, on the other hand, had a busy social life. Every weekend, she went to nightclubs and brought home new partners. One stuck around to become Mum’s long-term boyfriend.
He was also the one that came into my bedroom and raped me when I was 11. I didn’t understand what was happening. He said I would enjoy it, but, of course, I didn’t. He attacked me every night.
When I tried to tell my mother what was happening, she became angry at me for ‘making up lies’ and tried to kick me out of the house. I had no means to leave, so I continued living there until I was able to move out at 20.
Stock photo of high-rise residential building. Photo: Pujohn Das/Unsplash
I fell pregnant after a one night stand and had a son. We stayed with friends and eventually found a small house, but money was so tight. I couldn’t afford the electricity bills or food on the small amount of money from state benefits I received.
Hope
One summer’s afternoon, I was sat with a friend in her garden, confiding the financial pressures I was facing, and the fears of starvation and homelessness that kept me awake at night. The guy next door joined us and brought a cuddly toy for my son, which I thought was very kind.
I opened up to Chris* about how I was struggling and he wanted to help. ‘My sister lives in England,’ he said, ‘and she needs a nanny for her two kids.’ Chris explained if I was interested, I would spend four or five days a week working for his sister, and have the rest of the week to myself. I’d live with her rent free, whilst also being paid enough to take care of myself and my family.
It was tempting - I dreamt of saving up enough money to give my son a good life. But if I wanted the job, I’d have to leave my son behind, pack my bags and be ready to leave the following day. With a heavy heart, I kissed my son goodbye, left him with my mother - who promised to keep him safe - knowing our separation was only temporary.
Stock photo, posed by model. Photo: William Daigneault/Unsplash
I hated leaving him, but this opportunity was a one in a million chance to give us a means of escaping the poverty we’d so far endured.
I had no idea where England was and thought we’d arrive within a couple of hours. In fact, we drove three days, stopping only for fuel, food, and sleep along with way. Eventually, we arrived in Coventry.
Chris took me to a house where another man, John* was waiting for me. An exchange happened: $3,500 (around £2575) cash for me. I was confused, but didn’t ask any questions.
Chris left and I moved in with John. He looked after me when he wasn’t working as a chef. For a year, he helped me learn English, took me out to eat every night, and bought me whatever I wanted. I thought of him as my boyfriend and didn’t think twice about sleeping with him. The whole time, however, I was confused why I hadn’t started the nannying job I’d come here for.
While John worked, I slept until midday, cleaned the house, wandered the shops and cooked. Life was easy but boring. Then one day, John told me I was ready to start my new job. To prepare, he took me shopping for sexy underwear, make-up, new clothes, and high heels. I thought it was strange, considering I was going to be taking care of kids all day, but I enjoyed the freedom of shopping without a budget. Money had always been so short growing up, this felt like an unbelievable luxury.
A terrible trap
The next day, John, who had my passport, dropped me off at a building and told me he’d be back later to pick me up. When I went inside, I found it was filled with young women caked in heavy make-up, platform heels, perfectly-set hair, and sexy clothing.
It dawned on me this was a ‘massage parlour’ and my new job was having sex with men there for cash. The nannying job and the promise of a better life had been a ruse to bring me to the U.K.
I wanted to flee, but I had no money, no passport, no means of leaving. I had no choice but to stay. My stomach churned as that first day, I had sex with 12 different men. I felt scared, tired and angry.
Stock image. Photo: Dayne Topkin/Unsplash
When John picked me up that night, I had made £400. He took almost all of it from me to pay his rent, fuel, food and bills. Plus, he explained, I owed him for the price he originally paid to get me to the UK. He gave me just £5, as he thought I ‘deserved’ something for my 12-hour shift as a sex worker.
We returned home and the shock set in. How had my life spiralled into such a nightmare?
Soon after, John moved us to Swindon but life continued as before. He rented me a room in a house occupied by the landlady. Although he didn’t live there, he constantly rang to check up on me and never let me to leave the house alone. He drove me to the massage parlour every day at 11am.
I worked seven days a week and was paid £50 per client, per half hour. Of that £50, I had to give half to the owner of the parlour, and the other half to John. After leaving work around midnight, I was exhausted, but John often made me have sex with him before I was allowed to asleep.
After a few months, the owner of the massage parlour pulled me aside and said, ‘you need to get away from your boyfriend.’ She explained that he was a pimp, not a lover. The other working girls agreed. I was confused at first as I’d reasoned with myself that he loved me. My whole life, I’d never experienced true love or respect. I had no idea what it was supposed to look like.
Planning my escape
It took me a while to accept what the girls were saying, but eventually, I realised they were right. But what could I do? Where could I go? I was trapped. Then, the massage parlour owner suggested I start putting a small amount of money in her safe daily, before giving the rest to John. I was grateful for her help, and after a few months, I had saved £800.
The next part of my plan was set in motion. I told John I needed to attend a sexual health clinic for work, and needed my passport to prove my identity. My lie worked.
Stock photo, posed by model. Photo: Mohammed Alherz/Unsplash
Hours later, I gulped down a shot of vodka, picked up the phone and told John he’d never see me again. He texted and rang constantly, but I ignored his calls. He even paid for guys to come in the massage parlour posing as clients to find out what was going on, so I moved away, changing towns and cities every few months, still working in massage parlours.
I didn’t want to live that life but I felt I had no choice. Then, one day, I went to buy some milk and spotted a friend of John’s. My heart began pounding and the blood thumped in my ears as I was gripped by total fear. Had John learnt where I was?
I was terrified and believed my life was in danger so I picked up the phone and dialled 999. They responded immediately and took me to a safe-house. All the emotion, fear and regret I’d suffered the past few years - and having freedom finally within grasp - collided in a storm of tears the whole way there.
Injustice
Sadly, John was never prosecuted as there were not enough witnesses or evidence to put him in prison. My word, my lived experiences and the horrors my mind and body had endured were sadly not enough to put him behind bars where he belonged.
I hate that justice wasn’t served, and he got away with trading my freedom and body for his financial gain. Even though it sometimes scares me that he is still out there, I don’t let my fear of him dictate my future.
I’ve since trained as a carer, and now work to ensure that the elderly are safe and happy. I wake up, work, eat, and go to bed when I want. I take home all the money I make from my job. I have genuine friends who I trust. My rented flat is a safe space where I can relax at the end of the day.
It took me seven years to go to the police and ask for help because I was truly terrified. It has been a long and hard journey but I will never give up striving for a better life, and a better future, even if it’s one step at a time. My son is safe in my home country and I hope that one day, I can see him again. But for now, I will continue to create a life that is independent and strong. A life I know he would be proud of.
Stock image, posed by model. Photo: Gordon Plant/Unsplash
If you are a victim of human trafficking in the UK, there is help and safety available. Visit the Red Cross, the Modern Slavery Hotline, the Human Trafficking Foundation, or Migrant Help UK.
If you are in immediate danger, dial 999
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