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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Naiara is excited about the idea of me tagging along to the orphanage and Wednesday morning after breakfast, we take off without delay.
"I'm so glad you married Miguel," she says as the SUV rolls along the narrow mountain roads. "With Juana, it was always just about the military and the rebels. She never was up for any fun."
A smile curls my lips without prompting. While we have grown closer over these past months, I still can't picture us being friends the way I was with Emily. Confiding in Naiara is out of the question, and not only because fueling gossip is her life. Chances are that she's feeding information to her husband.
As we turn at the fork, I lower the window and crane my neck to get a better look. The car sways through a lightly wooded area that hides the orphanage from intrusive eyes. After a few more bends, the trees open up, laying bare half-a-dozen buildings. The three large houses that must function as dorms are painted in bright rainbow colors and are in excellent shape; somehow, it's a happy place in an otherwise hostile country. The other buildings are plain and vary in sizes, but they're in the same state of repair as the rest. From first impressions, Pearson knows how to run this place.
The second I get out of the car, the smell of freshly cut grass tickles my nose. Two boys eagerly push lawn mowers across a large soccer field, their bare sweaty torsos glistening in the morning sun. One of them is maybe fifteen, the other just a small child whose arms are stretched all the way to keep control of the mower.
Two girls sit at the edge of the field with their legs folded underneath them, giggling while shooting the older boy smoldering looks. He pretends to be oblivious to the attention, although his lips twitch with every new giggle. The normalcy of the situation is refreshing. It's as if I've crossed through an invisible barrier into a world that's surrounded by a bubble, reflecting an ordinary slice of life.
"Naiara!" the little boy squeals, abandoning the lawn mower and zooming over to us."Me has traído una barra de chocolate?"
She wraps him into her arms. "Yes, but you need to speak English. It's important to know the language of our enemies."
And the bubble bursts. Maybe she should keep in mind who runs the orphanage before making these types of statements. The older boy has also interrupted his work, strolling over to us with the girls in tow.
On cue, Pearson materializes in the door frame of a building. "Mrs. Rizo, always a pleasure." His face is flat; he doesn't even make an effort to hide his true feelings. After a few moments of awkward silence, he checks his watch. "You're early today."
"Stacy wants to read to the children, so I thought we would stop by before school." She smiles at me. "Stacy, I think you've met Pearson Moore before?"
"I have." I clear my throat as we lock eyes. "Where should I set up?"
"Maybe in the rec room." He extends his arm toward one of the plain buildings. "After you."
The inside of the building is just as colorful as the outside of the dorms and we pass a kitchen before crossing the mess hall with its long tables and low benches. From the look of things, the orphanage could cater to around forty children, but that is pushing it.
