Atlantic City is an open air prison for sexual predators, and I was a political prisoner there for close to a decade. I only ran when they sent thugs after me. They sent thugs after me because they couldn’t entrap me. Because I’m not a creep, y’see. Nobody has ever believed that. Except that little sex trafficking victim.
My mother is a monster—she’s 110% behind sex trafficking, and even launders money for it. But she’s a little woman, so there’s a part of me that connects with those, and I’m congenitally on the side of the underdog, and in the violence game there’s no more under a dog than a small woman. One of the entrapment attempts the cops pulled on me was a 4’10” woman, 29, who had been trafficked at 22 and sold as a child for six years. The blue soldiers got her out, but then dumped her on the streets of ac to ply her only trade. I’ll give her credit—she was freelance. She refused to go back under a thumb, but that meant the other hookers routinely beat the shit out of her. So did her customers.
She had a $200/day coke and dope habit. I had $800 total, so I could only feed her for four days, but I did clean her up. It’s funny how easy that sort of thing is. I was drunk the whole time, and had been in an agony of isolation for decades. I brought her home and bought her her drugs without fucking her. Mostly, I bitched about her manners. I don’t think anyone had cared about her manners in a long time.
I wasn’t trying to help her—i’d taken any human contact i could get for years. Not trying to change people is definitely part of the secret. We all have defense mechanisms against dogooder manipulation. But just treating her like a human being was all she needed. Me too, for that matter. I’ve been dehumanized by the whole world all my life, so I’m sensitive to it. About a month after she went her way, she came up to me on the streets and thanked me. She was clean and sober and putting her life back together. Unfortunately, I wasn’t up to continuing anything with her.
I had just been hit by a SUV. The cops gave up on entrapping me and tried to paralyze me by fucking with the traffic lights. Almost succeeded, too—multiple fractures of multiple vertebrate at both impact points. Me being me, I reacted like a stunt man and presented my back flat to the bumper, and so didn’t torsion. Then the hospital tried to paralyze me. Don’t go to the AC hospital at all, basically, but especially not at night. It’s entirely criminals working there overnight; they have some real doctors on during the day for cover. One of those did my imaging three days later, and I went home to finish self-healing. Got out of it OK—no impinged nerves—but I wasn’t in the mood for conversation when she did smile at me on the street.
A year later she was back at it. I can’t fix the world that made her, but I did give her a leg up and chance to get out if she could find a way. I think she was FAS. And fatherless. Between those two, she’s pretty much FAB. Sorry. But I found a way to make even /that/ interaction positive.
I wish I was allowed to talk to people who had actual minds that work.