When Hope Calls: A Human Trafficking Story

3:08PM

Aat remained on the floor while Chariya tended to his bruised head. On the other side of the office, Margaret vehemently gave Jeremy hell for his reckless action.

"What the heck were you thinking, Jeremy?!" she yelled.

Jeremy sheepishly replied, "I...I...we couldn't have them –"

But Margaret would have none of it. "Yes, of course knew that. But why the –"

"I couldn't have just sat there!" he protested.

But Margaret was gaining steam, "But that doesn't justify your violence, Jeremy! How could you think that –" Jeremy, however, was also gaining momentum of his own, rising from his chair.

"I had to do something!" Jeremy burst out. "We all know I was the only one who did something about it!" His voice took on an accusatory tone. "What? Would you have preferred it if Mya's phone was discovered? Is that what you want?"

By now, all eyes were on him. Margaret's typically unfaltering gaze shifted to the side. They all understood his anger...in a way, he was the manifestation of their collective outrage, giving voice to their unspeakable emotions.

"What was I to do? Come on, tell me!" Jeremy continued, his voice gaining pitch and volume, "We've been seeing this happen over and over again. Don't act like this is new to you. So what have you been doing about this? It's because of people like you that girls like Mya get taken and eaten alive!" He pointed a shaking finger at a stunned Margaret, "It's because of people...like...YOU!"

Morris made his way to the trembling and red-faced Jeremy, who seemed to have drained his emotional cask to its dregs. He was muttering, "It's because you don't do anything..."

He collapsed back into his chair from the emotional upheaval, uttering one last murmured accusation, barely a whisper: "It's because of people like me...people like me..." Morris put a hand on his friend's shoulder, his tears mirroring Jeremy's. The silence following his outburst accentuated his words. Margaret excused herself to no one in particular and strode to the washroom, as Chariya continued to tend to Aat, sniffing quietly.

Laying exactly where Jeremy left him, Aat remained motionless, staring at the ceiling. His vision grew blurry with mounting tears. Under the still facade, guilt was writhing and seething like a flaming snake, tearing at his insides...and he wished that it would destroy him, for he deserved nothing but the most painful death. What had he done? How could he be so brainless? He wished to God that Jeremy had pummeled him, to beat some sense into his head. And so he remained on the floor, unwilling to get up, to face the consequences that were completely his fault. There on the cold tiled floor, Aat died a thousand deaths in his mind.

The office once again plunged into despondency, as the oppressive silence rushed in to fill the void; each grieving individual was a separate room with locked doors...and nobody had the keys.