Sara Kruzan - I Cried to Dream Again: Trafficking, Murder, and Deliverance — A Memoir

GG and I left the movie theater a little after midnight. We found his Jaguar in the parking lot without any trouble. He always parked as close as possible to the entrance of wherever he was going. Plus, you couldnt miss it. Cream-colored with a burgundy leather and wood interior, it was the kind of car that made you feel youd better sit up straight. People paid attention to that car no matter where we went.

GG expected his women to look put together. Whenever he picked me up, his eyes would first travel from my hair down to my shoes before he let me get into his car. If he didnt give me one of his lectures, I knew I looked okay. Tonight we matched. He was wearing white leather pants, a white-and-maroon leather jacket, and a crisp white shirt unbuttoned almost to his belly button. I was only sixteen years old but tall and thin, five foot seven and 110 pounds. I had on a white halter pantsuit and white ankle boots. He mostly wore gold jewelry: long, fine chains, not heavy bling, but tonight I noticed he wasnt wearing any. He liked to think of himself as a classy guy and always dressed in the latest fashion. His hair usually looked like it had been curled but not brushed out, so it would hold its shape. Today it was styled like Ron ONeals in Super Fly. His big curls were stiff with product.

He handed me his wallet as he started the car. I set it beside me on the seat. My purse was in my lap. I was holding on to it so tightly that my hands were sweating. I worried that GG might notice, get suspicious, and ask me to open it, and he would see that I was holding it like that because there was a gun inside. I tried to relax my grip and stared out the window, pretending to take in nonexistent sights. Nothing was going on at this hour; most people were home fast asleep. It was a warm night, but the AC was on full blast. I was shaking on the inside from nerves, and on the outside from the cold air.

The movie we watched was Blue Chips starring Nick Nolte and Shaquille ONeal, but I couldnt tell you the plot. At one point, I went to the restroom to call Johnny, my boyfriend, after he paged me. I had forgotten to take my purse and had left it on my seat. When I returned and saw it there, I nearly fainted, but GG was engrossed in the action on the screen. I sat back down and spent the rest of the movie trying desperately to relax. My mind was racing, my heart pounding.

After the movie, GG opened the Jaguars door. He was so tall that he had to bend and fold his long legs to get into the drivers seat. I was quieter than usual that night, psyching myself up for what I had to do. Usually, GG and I didnt talk much anyway. The only time he really talked to me was when he was preparing me for sex or giving me his pearls of wisdom: Basically, all men want sex. Thats how you please em. Theyll wine and dine you, and if you give it to them, theyll be happy, and youll be happy. If a man marries you, hes investing in you. Hes gonna buy you flowers. Hell buy you jewelry and perfume. Your job is to look pretty, smell pretty, and remember what you gotta do to make sure he stays satisfied. Hed go on and on, and Id always listen. I didnt care, or agree with him, but sometimes he would make me repeat it all back to make sure I was paying attention.

As we drove away from the theater, I kept sneaking glances at GG, who was steering the Jaguar with relaxed confidence. He parked abruptly and grabbed his wallet. GG always had a lot of cash on him. He got out of the car, leaving the key in the ignition, and strode calmly toward a liquor store. He didnt ask me to follow, so I didnt. I was thinking, I hate you, because I knew that if GG was buying liquor, it meant he was planning a lengthy sexual encounter with me. He liked to drink Rmy Martin Cognac and 7UP when he was in the mood for sex.

It was about 1:30 a.m. when we pulled into the nearly empty Dynasty Suites parking lot. GG told me, Wait here. Im going to pay for the room.

While he was gone, I checked my pager. I opened my purse and saw the .22 Johnny had handed me earlier. The only time I had ever handled a gun before was when my brother had shown me how to shoot his BB gun when we were kids. This one was smaller and lighter. I will never forget the feel of the metal and the weight of it in my hand.

GG returned and unlocked the trunk, my cue to get out of the car. He pulled out a box, slammed the trunk shut, and said, Im gonna use this on you tonight, his voice thick with anticipation. It was a Sunbeam Two Speed Wand Massager, and I knew exactly what that meant.

By now my heart was beating even more furiously than before. GG led me to room 115, the honeymoon suite. Hed taken me to that room before. With every step, my dread increased. I was afraid of what he was going to do, and I was afraid of what I was going to do.

I followed him inside and heard the door click loudly as he closed it behind him. I sat on the couch. Everything was happening in slow motion. He grabbed the remote and pointed it. The TV flickered on. It was a porn channel, and GG raised the volume. A woman was on all fours, doggy style, and a man was straddling her, his penis shoved into her ass.

I tried to appear unfazed, wondering if I could do what Johnnys friend, James Earl, had told me I should. My panic rising, I distracted myself by taking mental snapshots of the room. The honeymoon suite was white and red: red curtains, a white coffee table, a white couch with white pillows, and a big white circular bed, on a little platform, like a throne. There were mirrors above the bed on the ceiling. To the right of the bed was a red-and-white-checkered heart-shaped Jacuzzi tub set on a square base, with more mirrors above and around it. To the left was the bathroom. There were two dressers. The TV was across from the bed, near the door. I noticed that GG and I didnt just match each other, we matched the room, and for a second I wondered if that had any significance.