She rocked back and forth in a chair in my office as she told me her story.
She never experienced a Daddy’s love. In fact, she never even knew who her father was.
When her mother finally married it was to a man who sexually abused his new step-daughter. Worse, her mother knew it was going on. And perhaps worst of all, the mother refused to help her daughter by stopping the husband’s abuse.
Instead, she blamed her daughter for the problem and kicked her out of the house at the age of 15.
Somehow she managed to travel all the way from Tennessee to Las Vegas. She survived, providing for herself in the only desperate way she could find, in the worst way we could imagine. She sold her body.
Frequently she was beaten up by her pimp. Every day she was humiliated by her johns. A couple of times she was hauled downtown by the police. From time to time she wondered, “Why me?” Sometimes she even allowed herself to speculate, “Where is God?”
Her rocking motion slowed down and her tears began to flow.
Maybe I have seen someone in more pain, but I honestly can’t remember when. Her sobbing was accompanied by these loud, from-the-gut groans. For a long while she spoke no words. She just rocked back and forth, making these painful sounds unlike anything I have ever heard a human being make.
When finally she spoke again, she repeated words of despair that I will never forget.
“You can’t trust nobody. You just can’t trust nobody. You can’t trust nobody.”
I want to share the conclusion of this story in a few days. But before I do, I want to ask you a question. What would you say to her?