Leaving the Life is a much-needed resource for:
+ victims and survivors of exploitation ->
encouraging them to get out and stay out of The Life
+ advocates (allies, abolitionists) ->
to help them understand the heart and mind of victims
If you are a survivor, request a free copy at: email@example.com
If you are an advocate,
+ purchase a copy at Amazon.com
+ sponsor copies to give to survivors
(every $25 donated allows us to give away 4 books)
If you are the leader of programs and services for victims/survivors, request free copies to give them at: firstname.lastname@example.org
All proceeds from the sale of the book go towards buying more copies to give to survivors.
Have you felt desperate, discouraged, overwhelmed and confused?
Have you been in a harmful relationship where you have experienced exploitation and abuse? Or has your life gone in a different direction than you expected or wanted? If so, this book is for you.
In Elsa’s story, you might find many similarities between what you have experienced and what she has survived—vulnerabilities, abuse, regrets, bad relationships, drugs, violence, emotional turmoil, fear, anger, self-blame, self-hatred, and more.
Yet your past does not need to define your future. You can leave. Contrary to what you may have been told or what you may believe, help and hope are available.
Mary saw the bruising around my eye. "Did AJ hit you again?”
“No, of course not,” I said, reaching up to touch my tender face.
“Are you sure? Looks like it.” Mary stared at my black eye. It made me uncomfortable.
“It was my own fault,” I finally said. “I didn’t get a very big tip last night. And I passed out before he could send me somewhere else.”
Mary just nodded as if to say, been there, done that, then said, “It happens.”
I walked to my room and stared at the girl in the mirror. Her face seemed thin and almost hollow. Her eyes had circles around them and looked darker than I remembered. I tried to make her smile, but she wasn’t able to.
I couldn’t sleep because I was lying in bed with my heart on fire. I hadn’t felt this way since the first few nights my stepdad came into my room all those years ago. After each time, I would spend the rest of the night trying to contain all the awful feelings pouring out of me. I would hold my knees to my chest, knowing that if I let the feelings out, everyone would know my shame.