I was a victim of human trafficking.

I was horrified. I was nervous. You know that feeling that you get when you can't breathe, and there's so much adrenaline, and you feel like you're choking?

What if you were kicked out at 16 and forced to sell your body or threatened to strip to earn money for someone who would harm your loved ones?

I'm Phoenix. I used to be shy and sheltered. I lacked confidence and friends and craved approval and love. My family life was difficult, especially my relationship with my mother. This led me to search for a caring girlfriend, which I found in my female trafficker.

It was two weeks into my new job when I met this lady who would soon befriend me. She asked me questions about my family. She asked me what I wanted in life.

One day we went to lunch, and it was then that she asked me out for her birthday. That evening, she picked me up from my house, drove me to her place, and asked me to spend the night. We got ready, then met up with her friends at a nightclub. She paid for everything. At the end of the night, she said she had spent a fortune and that I owed her $600. Now I was in debt with her, and she told me that the only way I could pay off my debt was to dance at a strip club.

I was confused. A part of me thought she was joking, but the other part of me knew she was serious. As she drove me to Toronto, she reached into the backseat, handed me a bag, and said, “Here's your cookie sheet. Here's your thong. Here's your ID. Go in and make me my money, and we'll be square”. I looked at her. She had no soul in her eyes. She went from friend to foe in a split second. She told me she knew where I lived and that she’d kill my dad and my dog if I didn’t do as I was told. She said she had people watching me, and if I tried to leave, something bad would happen to me and my family. At that moment, I choked up. I couldn’t breathe.

I walked into the strip club. I was taken to a back room by a man. I informed him that I was new to this, and we conversed over a few drinks. I began feeling tipsy and began to give lap dances, eventually making more than $600. When the strip club closed, my so-called friend picked me up, and I proudly told her I had made money back, but she remained silent. The silence was awkward, but in a weird way, I felt empowered.

We got in the car and drove back to her place. Two older men greeted me. They made small talk, then forced me to take some drugs. Until this day, I still don't know what I was given. The last thing I remember was taking a shower.

The following morning, the men drove me back to the strip club, then it occurred to me…. this wasn't a one-time thing. I was so confused. I kept asking myself, “Why am I here again?” as if trying to recall a moment when I owed my "friend" more money. So many things were running through my mind, but I couldn't map out what happened the night before.

My trafficker would tell me that if I ever went to the cops, I'd get charged with the possession of drugs and prostitution. I promised to keep my mouth shut. After all, I was more afraid of going to jail than I was of stripping. Besides, she had proof. She had pictures of me having sex with clients. She said if I didn’t comply, she would send the photos to all the contacts on my phone.

A couple of weeks later, I ended up at a strip club in Niagara because my trafficker had to do a drug deal and needed another trafficker to pimp me out that night. I knew she was going to be gone for a certain amount of time. Ironically, a former client of mine from another strip club happened to be at the Niagara strip club that night. I confided in him, and he told me I needed to escape. After his private lap dance, he left and waited for me in his car. I wasn’t allowed to leave the club because I had to stay until the strip club closed. But at that moment, I found a slim chance to escape. I ran out of the strip club in just my panties and heels. I ran straight to my client’s car, jumped in, and he stepped on the pedal and peeled out of the parking lot. He booked a motel room for me to stay in, where I stayed for a month while I tried to figure out what my next move would be.

I didn't have anything with me. Not my phone. Not a phonebook. Not even any clothes, which meant I couldn't leave the room. I could have called my dad, but I didn't want to go back home. I was embarrassed. I would have to face my family and say, “Guess what? This is what I've been doing.” But I did remember one man's phone number. I always felt comfortable around him. So I called him. He picked me up, and after a week of staying with him, he said, “You know, rent's not free, right?” I paid him with sexual favors. Anything he wanted me to do to him, I did. We ended up getting into a romantic relationship.

One day, he took me for a drive. We ended up at another strip club. Why was this happening to me again? Maybe this was my fate. Maybe “my people” were my clients, traffickers, and strippers. Maybe my world was this sexualized place.

Living this life meant always being high on drugs and having sex with men and women against my will. But the more I tried to resist having sex with these strangers, the more money my trafficker made. But the more I was raped, the more I was praised and showered with expensive gifts. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to escape, but if I did, I’d either be killed or forced to take drugs, then die from an overdose, or a client would kill me. Either way, I’m dead. I forced myself to be happy no matter the circumstance. It was a personal choice. The safest choice for myself and my family.

Finally! Someone reported human trafficking to the police. The owner of the strip club was notified and immediately had all of the strippers talk to the police. It was my turn. I walked into the back office. An undercover cop was sitting there with a long list of questions. I told him he was wasting his time with me and that I had nothing to say. As far as I know, this could have been a set-up. I didn't know who to trust. Then he said, “I want to interview you formally. Come down to the station tomorrow.” And so I did.

The next day, I made it to the police station. The same officer was there. He showed me a book. It was a training manual on how to be a pimp. He asked me to read the first page. Everything I read was my life on a piece of paper.

• Make sure she doesn’t have a voice

• Make sure you take her ID

• Make sure to take her phone

• Make sure she's in debt

I had no idea. I was a victim of human trafficking. My romantic relationship wasn’t a relationship at all. The man I thought I was in love with was my pimp. Then I started thinking…he was 40. I was now 19. I immediately felt sick to my stomach. I panicked. I had no one. Then the officer told me that I was safe now. He placed me in a safe house where they helped me get back on my feet. I was able to get my identity back, a new phone, and therapy.

At the safe house, I met another human trafficking survivor. She was 27 years old. We became close. We were able to leave the safe house and spend time outdoors. This was when she introduced me to some of her friends. She became a bit controlling. One day when we went out, we met up with some of her friends when she handed me off to an older man. The only difference this time was I was paid for sexual favors, and I got to keep the money. I continued this behavior for a while until I was arrested and went to jail, then got deported.

Finally, I moved back home, and that's where the healing started. I had a wake-up call. I was lucky to get out alive, unlike many other girls I worked with.

Human trafficking is the second-largest industry in the world. It brings in the most money after drug trafficking. Victims of human trafficking are more common between the ages of 13 and 17. So please educate your children. Teach them what to look out for. Then educate yourself about how to recognize when someone is a victim of human trafficking.

Common signs that your child may be a victim of human trafficking:

S/he is secretive on their phone

S/he is hanging out with somebody but never introduced you

S/he starts receiving unexplained items like a name-brand purse

S/he misses their curfew

S/he begins to dress more provocatively

S/he is missing his/her ID

S/he withdraws from friends and/or family

S/he has two phones

I am a survivor of human trafficking. I found hope. I was scared to talk, but I was worthy, and I knew I needed to get help. I’m still sad about what happened, and I will never forget it. But I know my story will reach someone, and I pray that it will help at least one person who needs to hear that s/he can survive too.