Your face haunts me. I cannot close my eyes without seeing your sad eyes, the half-smile on your face. Distrust of adults, especially caucasian adults, eminates from you. I understand why. I hope that one day I meet you.
I cannot pretend that I can wrap my mind around why men think it is acceptable to rape you repeatedly, to beat you. I don’t understand why a woman would steal a child off the street and give her up to the depraved desires of morally corrupt men. I cannot explain to you why your parents believed the lies that they were told.
What I can tell you is that God loves you, my child. God has never left you nor forsaken you, even though you may think He has. In you, my child, is the recipe for the cure for cancer. In your imagination is a beautiful epic novel that needs to be written. You are a diamond, hidden away in rubble.
Know, my child, that I am praying for your release. I will do whatever I can, whatever is within my power, to make sure that you are released from captivity.
You are beautiful. You are smart. You have done nothing to deserve the hell that you are living. I promise you that one day, you will see justice. And your captors and rapists will be brought to justice.