Human Trafficking: Trafficking in persons is modern-day slavery, involving victims who are forced, defrauded or coerced into labor or sexual exploitation. Annually, about 600,000 to 800,000 people -- mostly women and children -- are trafficked across national borders which does not count millions trafficked within their own countries.

Summary: Taken by men who are going to rent me out to strangers that will take advantage of me…Brilliant. This wasn't bad luck. It was my sentence to hell. Rated M for adult themes including rape and slavery.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or its characters.



Luck has never been on my side. You'd think that after 21 years, maybe the Fates would have some sort of pity over me and maybe even grant me the faintest hint of luck as to counteract the bad luck I have. Ironically, there had been no such luck. So when I stumbled into the street one morning after having tripped over Old Lady MacAfee's cat on my way down from my apartment, I didn't think much of it. I tripped on that cat enough to know that it would never learn its lesson and I shouldn't bother it lest I wanted to be scolded by an elderly woman with a large, hand-carved cane.

I had just recovered from my trip down the stairs and over the large ginger cat and was on my way out to grab a coffee on 7th Avenue on my way to work. The normal walk there didn't seem as tedious as it had two years ago when I had first moved in to my humble abode. The small, red bricked apartment building stood out from the others. It was a red dot in a sea of silver and black, but I liked its homey feel and the way the warmth of the red just seemed to expel some sort of neutrality into this overly diverse city. It was my own personal Switzerland in the middle of a war zone.

New York was large city; that much was obvious. But the fact that I had been able to find a job here at such a young age with little experience had me jumping for joy, ready to do anything it took to get the job as editor for Edge Studio. The job was something nobody would have assumed I would take, but I was good at it and it kept bread on the table. Voice recordings, audio books, voice-overs, the studio had it all. I was able to do my work efficiently in their studios, trying my best to handle the pompous vocalists who believed that they truly were spectacular just because they did a radio commercial on toothpaste. But I loved it. Personally, if I had had a choice, I would have gone into editing for a publishing company, but for now, this would do.

My career choice was completely coincidental. I had misunderstood the newspaper ad when I read it. It had said that they needed an editor and I immediately signed on for the job only to find that they weren't looking for me, rather that they were looking for someone who had a knack for using technology to manipulate voices and sounds. I just happened to be able to do that.

Having been born into a lower-middle class family meant living frugally. It also meant that I was introduced to part time jobs at an early age. Many odd jobs meant that I had experience in several things. After working in a teen music joint that had a DJ who just happened to be my best friend, Jacob Black, I learned quite a bit. So when they asked if I had experience, I could honestly say yes.

It had taken me about a week to memorize exactly ever single button, lever and switch on the recording panel, but once I did, they wouldn't dare fire me. I worked fast and kept things neat, as well as keeping clients perfectly at ease. I didn't argue with them or try to be their friends. My place was behind the acoustic room, looking at the panel, and theirs was by the mike, doing their lines as best they could. The perfect balance.

After grabbing a plain black coffee from the corner coffee shop, I made my way into the studio, nodding occasionally to people who passed by and nodded their hellos. Common decency was the only thing that kept me doing this. I wasn't surprised that most ignored my presence. I was a naturally boring and quiet person. My life was lived secluded from most modern luxuries because I found them unnecessary while others found it weird that I didn't have them. I didn't speak to the others and I kept to myself so I was often left wondering what other cats I had ran over on my way to work. The day didn't last long. There wasn't much to be done; just two clients doing vocals for a few commercials. After editing the clips and having them sent off to be checked over, I left.

The weather was cooler and darker than I had thought it would be. There was a startling chill in the air and the wind howled around me as a whirlwind of oak leaves swirled around me, getting caught in my hair. I did my best to ignore the feeling of unease that was blanketing me and just kept walking as fast as I could. The skittish feeling wouldn't leave, like that sense of adrenaline that starts pumping when you feel someone sneaking up behind you. It just wouldn't go away.

A scream resonated through the air, slicing through my nerves. I stiffened and my head jerked in the direction of the sound. It was a high pitched shriek, that of a woman. Immediately, I was frightened, but I couldn't bring myself to try and run. I needed to find that person, to help her.

My legs pumped as I run clumsily toward the noise, determined to help in any way I could. I'd been through self defense classes with Renee, my scatterbrained mother, before and knew enough to protect me. Perhaps I could help this person. Tripping a few times, I made it to an alleyway. From what I could see, there was no one hiding in the shadows but it was quiet…much too quiet. And then something appeared through my peripheral vision. A dark blue van with a logo that said "Mario's Painting Services" sat on the corner of the street and there was a man, dragging a young woman into the car as she struggled to escape, her mouth covered by his large hand, her eyes bulging open in fear. For some reason, this didn't scare me as it should have. Instead, I ran towards them, needing desperately to help this girl.

The man didn't turn towards me as I ran and prepared myself to attack. He must have been too distracted by the struggling girl in his arms. She was fighting, hard, but this man had the upper hand. He was at least a foot taller than her and he must have outweighed her by fifty or so pounds. He looked muscular, strong enough to handle anything that came at him; but hopefully, luck would for once be on my side.

He was too slow when he turned towards the sound of my footfalls hitting the concrete sidewalk, too slow to stop my shoulder from hitting him square in the side and knocking him off his feet. My shoulder ached but I wasn't going to stop. I gave him a good kick in the side before grabbing the girl who had landed on the floor two feet away from the man. She limped when she stood, but didn't waste time in trying to escape. She ran as best she could with her bum leg, screaming at the top of her lungs for help that wouldn't come. This street wasn't safe, that much I could tell from its gloomy appearance.

I too began to run, but didn't get far when I was tackled to the ground. The wind blew right out of me and I was gasping for breathe as one hundred eighty pounds landed on me. My head had hit the cement and black dots appeared before my vision, making me dizzy. The dull pounding from the blunt force echoed painfully in my head.

"Gotcha, you stupid bitch…" I tried to understand what was going on, but everything began to blur.

A/N: I wanted this story to portray a message. Human trafficking is disgusting, a vile method of slavery that never should occur…but it does. And guess what. It occurs mainly with women and children. Sickening. But this world isn't only made of butterflies and rainbows. There are also the dark things that shadow this world and the good. We cannot forget that.

I hope you all are (maybe…somewhat) moved by this story. It may not seem important to some people, but it's important to me. Thanks for reading. Please Review!

Authors are friends, not food! Don't flame them (and eat them). That, children, is known as cannibalism and is frowned upon in most societies.