We heard her crying down the street “Help! I’ve been shot!”
It was the middle of the day. Our street outreach team had been doing a trial run volunteering on Saturday afternoons (because women are sexually exploited at all hours of the day). But this was unlike anything I had yet seen volunteering for After Hours Ministry in years. The victim, Brianna*, hobbles down the sidewalk—towards the main drag—and straight up to me and Jennifer Cecil (regular teammates). Sure enough, Brianna is bleeding from her leg. I’ve never seen a bullet wound in the flesh before. The entry wound was small, straight through into the thick part of her thigh muscle and bleeding (but not gushing). It looked like a clean shot; in and out. We quickly scan the area making sure we were safe and then ask “Would you like us to call 9-1-1?”
“No. No… I got shot! I got shot!” The swells of her moaning indicated she was in a great deal of pain even though the damage didn’t look as bad as I thought it would from her screams down the block. We emphasize our ability to help get her medical attention, but she was hesitant.
“Do you need a ride anywhere safe? Would you like to go home and figure it out from there?”
“I got an uncle. I’ll walk to his place. It’s close by.”
“Can we walk with you?”
She winces as she nods in agreement. Aside from her shifted gate to deal with the pain, outreach resumed as almost normal; giving a small gift, striking up more conversation, and prayer. But something remarkable happened during prayer—the Lord gave us a word of knowledge for this woman. The meaning of her name was quite significant; it was as if the Lord wanted her to know her true identity in Him (and not in the tragic circumstances she was facing). We encouraged her that maybe this time was the right time to leave the game.
We saw on the blade the week or two after that, and then didn’t see her again… for years. But eventually, she showed up on the streets just as she had before. More weathered. More jaded. I’m not sure what led to her time away—my hope is that she had left the game for an extended period of time and had a better life for herself for a season. But seeing Brianna back where Jennifer and I found her years prior made me reflect on the events I had witnessed in her life. I remembered that—on average—a prostitute leaves the game seven times before staying out for good. So it appeared that not even a bullet wound would hold Brianna back from turning tricks again. Being sexually exploited is physical, emotional, and psychological trauma that leads its victims back to abuse time and time again. But I’m grateful to be a part of After Hours Ministry; where we don’t judge, we love. And we continue to be a beacon of hope for women who are finally ready to get the help they need.
*Brianna’s name has been changed to protect her identity.
Written by: An After Hours Ministry Volunteer