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This actually happened to me when I was a kid. I’m a girl and was 8 years old when this happened. I grew up with my mom and my stepfather in an apartment in Chicago at the time.

So you know, my stepfather was a crackhead. He used, I’m pretty certain, every day. He was a pretty good father, considering he was high all the time. I felt way more close to him than I ever was with my mom. We spent tons of time together, after his morning “walks”.

His habit got really bad. My mother was the only one who could work since he kept getting fired. My mother recently got new furniture, a whole living room set. Two couches, lamps, end tables, rugs, and she even got a new tv. She was pretty proud and happy, mainly because she was able to hide enough money from my stepfather to buy everything.

A few days after she got everything, my mom and I went to Burger King. We came back to the apartment. My mother opened the door and her smile dropped. There was absolutely nothing in the living room. She told me to check my things. My bike, all my video games, my tv, and clarinet were all gone as well. There were quite a few other things gone around the apartment. You already know who was the culprit, my stepfather. Apparently, he owed some people for drugs. He said he had no choice. They said to pay up, or it’ll be everything he loves. As you see, his habit was very, very bad.

Now to the meat of the story. One day, I woke up to my stepfather calling me. It was pretty early, the sun just started to peek into my room. I got up and heard him in the kitchen talking to someone franticly. I couldn’t hear much since my door was closed but I do remember making out a little bit. He said “Man, she’s beautiful!” And “You won’t be disappointed.”

I slipped on my house shoes trying to figure out who he was talking to. I heard one response, but the voice was very deep so I couldn’t tell what was said. It was strange for anyone to be visiting our apartment and especially strange since it was so early. I was tired, confused, and a bit annoyed at being woken up. I opened my door. From it, I have a straight line of sight to the kitchen. I see my stepfather nervously fidgeting, pacing and talking. He saw me and said “Here she is, man.” I stood in my doorway and tried to give him a look like who in the world is he talking to.

He motioned for me to come in. I walk into the kitchen and I see a tall older white man with shades. Looking back, maybe he was late 40’s. He was balding, had a short beard, and he was dressed very nicely. My father said “Here she is, what do you think?” My parents tend to show me off to people for some reason so this wasn’t odd to me. The man looked at me I presume and looked back at my stepfather.

My stepfather had the most nervous smile on his face I have ever seen. My father told me to give a twirl. I was not twirling in front of this strange guy and definitely not this early. So he forcefully turned me. He held my night gown taut so it was fitted against my body and said “Not bad right?” I pushed his hand off me. This was clearly very very strange now. I did not understand what was going on, but I knew something wrong was happening.

The entire time the white man said nothing, just watched me. My stepfather said “You’re going to have to go with him now.” I frowned and asked why, but before I could really start, the white man spoke. He squatted down to my height, smiled, and asked “How old are you?” I said nervously, “I’m 8.” He said “You’re a big girl then. Do you like school?” I said, “I love school.” This little conversation and his smile made me feel a bit at ease.

I look over the man’s shoulder and see my stepfather frowning/glaring at me and it scares me. I have not seen him look like that except at suspicious people to warn them not to mess with him. I keep looking back at my stepfather, trying to answer this man’s questions, knowing I said something wrong from my stepfather’s reaction. The white man glances back at my stepfather while still squatted down to my height. My stepfather looks away in fear. The man stands up, looks back down to me and says “it was nice talking to you. You’re a very smart young lady. Now, go on back to bed.”

I was not used to anyone giving me orders except at school or my parents, but I knew not to question it and walked off to my room. I looked back and he was watching me. I stood inside my room at the door and looked back again. He said “Close your door and go back to bed.” I looked at him and he smiled back and motioned for me to go on. I closed the door and sat in my bed.

I hear the man say something to my father in an angry voice. I hear my stepfather begging very loudly “Please, please take her!” The kitchen has a door leading to the outside staircase. My window was pretty close to it. I hear the kitchen door open so I slid my window open a crack. I hear my stepfather repeatedly begging please. The man yells “She’s a fucking kid!” I try to peek out to see the staircase. There were two large men standing there near the door and on the stairs.

The white man punches my stepfather presumably, I can’t really see the whole scene. I hear a thud inside and outside, I suppose from him falling. The white man and the two men walk down the stairs to a nice black car parked in the alley. I hear the kitchen door close and soon after my bedroom door opens. My stepfather is drenched in sweat and smiles at me sheepishly and says casually to not tell my mother. I just stared at him. He then asked did I want to go to the park. I said no. He walked away and left the apartment.

I sat there trying to put the pieces together. It clicked that my own stepfather was trying to sell me, more than likely to pay off a huge drug debt. Then everything else fell into place. The strange oddly friendly white man considered taking me. Why would he take me? What would he do to me? Where would I go? What about my mom? Feelings of fear, anger and sadness flooded me. I laid there and cried for hours thinking about how close I was to never seeing my mom again and that my stepfather planned to do this to me.

My mother eventually leaves him some years later. I still haven't told her about it, afraid she might lose it. I’m 26 now and it’s still hard to think about it without crying.

---by reddit user linxminx via:


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