"They are waiting for you."
She wakes up jerkily after hearing those words. She has her eyes closed as she imagines her mom waiting to receive news, like the other mothers, about their rescue by the authorities.
The woman asks her again.
"What happened then?"
The teenage girl of seventeen, dressed in a pair of jogging clothes looks at the reporter with a sad face. The woman reporter of about fifty years old, sitting beside her on a park's garden chair, repeats her question.
"She burst into tears as I was the first one that crossed her mind."
The reporter keeps quiet. So the teenage girl continues.
"It has been a year that I disappeared and she has not received any encouraging news from the local police."
The girl's hands are clenched into a fists, her arms resting on both legs
"She had done everything she could to find me. But you know, my mom was a justice oriented woman. She believed in justice. She believed in authorities, that they would do their jobs."
The woman peaks at her notebook, checking her note and searching something on it with the use of her pen.
"It was reported in a newspaper that she was a business woman. She was raised by your grandparents in a loving home. They were rich."
The girl nods with a smile.
"My grandparents disapproved of my father, because he was poor. Then they proved their reason for dislike, not of him being poor, but him leaving my mother when he found out she got pregnant by me."
The girl's back receives a comforting caress from the woman, giving her a compassionate look. The teary eyes girl continues telling her story.
"So my mother did not insist, but made herself responsible for everything about me. She was an intelligent, nice and lovely person as everybody knew of her. She was quiet and peaceful. Most of all, a God believer with a strong faith."
The woman nods her head as she agrees.
"Yeah, I have read about that. She had herself involved in charities and lent a hand to those who came to her asking help."
The girl's smile shows a sense of pride about her mother. She straightens herself up to relax her back against the bench.
"She loved me very much. I was her life. She did not get herself involved with any other man, even after my father's death in an accident. He was the man of her life as she told me."
The woman reporter returns her smile and feels a little relief that the girl's tensions seem to disappear.
On the woman's mind passes the real story of this human traffic victim before her.
The girl disappeared three years ago from the school area after she left the school building. Her mother did all the reports of the incident to authorities, news, social media and all other means of communication to the public. Her mother's struggles and fights to find her have called everyone's attention and have inspired other mothers in the same situation to join forces with her.
"What happened exactly that day you disappeared?"
The teenage girl looks away first to the other direction then back to answer the question with tears in her eyes starting to fall. She wipes them. Breathing deeply, she starts to speak.
"I was waiting for a bus. It was already late. I hung out with some friends for a little while after my classes. The others decided to stay longer while I chose to go. I was alone."
She starts then continues.
"Suddenly, a car stopped in front of me. I was caught surprised and confused. One woman came out from the front seat. There were three men and a woman, four people in total inside the car."
She sighs a bit and frowns her brows.
"I thought they were just leaving the woman at the bus stop. But as I looked the other way to check if the bus was coming, the woman standing at my back then put a handkerchief with something on it at my nose. I lost consciousness. I did not remember anything afterward."
The reporter interrupts her about her knowledge.
"Yes. It was the same operandi they have been using to all their victims that they brought to their brothel for prostitutes."
The girl nods. She says nothing to add. So, the reporter understands that the girl prefers not to go on into details.
"Did you know that there have been lots of other women in different parts of the world asking for justice, desperately looking for their children, like what your mom has fought for?"
The girl's eyes widen showing her interest to go on.
"Yes! I was told by many of them that they have been praying so hard to get their cause to reach higher on its stroll. They have been so grateful to my mom for leading them to its success. They were able to rescue many victims, because my mom has joined them. All of them together and never had ever stopped to fight for the cause."
Now, the teenager has an enormous smile on her face and eyes are enlightened.
"Imagine, they have lost their daughters, even sons, long before my mother lost me. Since they were scattered in different locations, it was not easy to join hands to call the attention of the International Human Rights to listen to their pleas."
The reporter continues the story for her with a wide smile too.
"Yes! Your mom was so courageous, strong in her purpose and really a fighter! She did everything via social media, world wide and to every corner of the world to find out who the mothers were praying for God's help to find their children. It was a world wide crusade! And, Heaven blessed her, she did it!"
Then both women laugh as they interchange how the teenage mom has done the job through thick and thin. They laugh louder at the funny anecdotes they remember about the crusade. Then slowly, they start to catch breath to calm down and continue with the interview seriously.
"So when will her death's anniversary be done this second year?"
The girl stops laughing totally at the last anecdote and reacts normally to the question.
"It is going to be next week. You are invited. My grandparents will come with me to the government's palace to receive this local version of the Nobel Prize award which we already have received last year. As you know, everybody will be there. All rescued victims, their families and those who replaced my mom in her founded organization for the cause."
The woman reporter nods her head accepting the invitation and asks another question.
"Will there be a mass too?"
The girl's response is with continuous excitement.
"Yes. Always. There will be a form of gratitude to God. That has always been my mom's condition. Never start anything without putting God first."
Both women hug each other to confirm agreements.
The writer suddenly felt a breeze embracing him. He realized it was getting late in the afternoon. The air has entered the open window on his side. He dropped his pen and closed the window murmuring to himself, looking at the pen.
"Time to stop, don't you think?"
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