I sit outside in my tattered clothes. I don’t have much but I am content. I see a boy coming towards me. His was once like me, a boy with little trying to help his family. He looks down at me from his bicycle. He asks me if I want to ride it and I am filled with excitement. He helps me onto his bike, for I am too small to reach the seat. Trying to teach me how to ride it, we are laughing as I wobble down the dirt road. He lets me play and other children come to see the commotion happening around. Each boy takes his turn, riding the bike that none of us can afford. The boy with the bike turns to us and says, “I can show you where you can get something like this and more if you are interested.” I don’t have much and I don’t ask for much, but this is fun and I can’t help but want one too. I would have been able to go without it if I never had the chance to experience it. Now I know what I’m missing and now I want it too. I gladly fallow the boy to this secret place where I will be rewarded with a brand new bike of my own. As we reach the river’s edge, I see a fishing boat waiting. He assures the group of boys that have decided to fallow along, that this will be a fun trip with many rewards waiting on the other side. One by one we pile into the boat. Soon there are too many to fit comfortably. I sit there waiting for the boat to leave, hoping they’ll stop piling us in. I don’t understand why they won’t stop. It’s too small for all of us. There are children getting smashed. Just when I think they’d stop, they continue to force more in. Before I know it, there are about 30 of us stacked in a tiny boat. Some of us cannot breathe. The force of the weight piled around has become unbearable. This isn’t fun anymore. I want to leave, but I can’t get out. As I try to move myself out of the boat and back to shore, the man yells at us as we pull away. He tells us to stop squirming. He tells us to stop whining. He tells us we are ungrateful for what they are offering us. As the boat begins to drift away we start to count down the moments to when we will be able to leave this tiny place. Hours go by. Days pass. As the week ends we begin to lose track of how long we have been on this boat. Hungry, sore, dehydrated. Some of us can no longer take it. I hear the sound of water splashing as I watch the man toss boys over the side of the boat. I ask what they are doing and they tell me that those boys are no good to them if they are dead. I see my friends getting tossed aside, and I feel shameful for ever wanting a bike. Finally our boat reaches its destination. As the remaining of us exit the boat onto a land we have never been to, we are directed to different areas. Some of us will never see each other again. For two years I am forced to work all day and night. Although the work that I am doing is hard on me, I am still grateful that I am not a girl. I have met a girl while I have been working here. They make her cook early in the mornings and sell the food during the afternoon. At night I must find men who want to pay to have their way with her. I can hear her cry but I do not dare to help her, because if I do I will be beaten until the pain causes me to black out. Two years go by, and I have witnessed the murder of my friend’s baby. She asks to return to her village so that she can take care of the baby. Instead they killed her baby telling her she had no more reason to return. I cry for her because I cannot help her, but they are letting me leave. I am released to my village at the age of 15, with a brand new bike of my own. They tell me all I have to do now is bring new boys to take my place and they will give me more. After spending years getting beaten and overworked, I wondered, “could it really be that easy?” All I have to do is bring more boys and I will be rewarded. No more working, only recruiting. As I return to my village I show off my new bike. Hoping my vast wealth will draw new boys to the traffickers. As I lead a new group of unsuspecting boys to the boat, I notice something different about the man in the boat. It’s not the same man as before, yet his face still looks familiar. It is the boy who lured me with his bike. He is the new man. I see now how this works. We become victims so we can turn into the abusers.