I am 22 years old and I am writing this letter so that you don’t accept the deals traffickers are giving me.
Before coming to Hong Kong, my situation was always complicated because I had difficulty finding work, as the pandemic had severely affected the job market.
I worked selling clothes in the mornings and as a waitress in pizzerias to help my father, who suffered from heart problems and needed urgent surgery. What I earned wasn’t enough to pay for medical appointments, tests, or medications. I had to drop out of school to help with the living expenses.
.…every time I called I heard my dad crying and saying he didn’t want to die.
I worked from the age of 14 to support my education and help my father, since we only had each other. Over time, the treatments weren’t working, and he was hospitalized several times. I had to figure out what to do to keep my job, take care of my father, and get money for his medical expenses. We had withdrawn money from the bank to pay off our debts. I started working double shifts at night, working overtime and going to work in the mornings, doing housework, and looking for any other job to earn more, even though it meant not being able to rest or spend time with my father, whose health was deteriorating as the months went by.
My health was also suffering. I have congenital hypothyroidism and also needed my treatments and medications. It was complicated with my father’s problems and my own: a sick person caring for a sick person. To make matters worse, neither of us could stop taking our medications since we depended on them every day. When my father’s health began to worsen, I fell into depression because he was the only friend I had, the one I talked to and accompanied me to my appointments, and who knew me like no one else in the world. Even though he did things that angered me or said things I didn’t like, he was the person I loved, and I knew that if he left my life, I would be left alone.
Shortly after, my father had a heart attack and had to be hospitalized. I was looking for ways to take care of him and work as best I could. A few weeks after he was admitted to the hospital, I received a letter from Brazil offering me a trip. At first, I didn’t know what it was about, but out of desperation, I decided to contact the people about a job they told me would give me enough money to cover my father’s surgery.
When I arrived in Brazil, a taxi picked me up and took me to an apartment. I was kept locked up there until the day of the trip. For the next few days, people called me via video chat, covering their faces with balaclavas, while they explained what the job entailed and what I had to do. I spent 22 days locked up. Those persons asked me if I needed anything and brought it to me on the condition that I didn’t leave the apartment for any reason or circumstance.
Filled with rage, I called to complain and they threatened to kill me if I didn’t get on the plane.
Since my father’s operation depended on my making that trip, everything had to go perfectly. The long wait drove me crazy because I needed to know how my father was doing. I called him every day to check on him. My brother, who was taking care of him during my absence, had no patience, and every time I called, I heard my father crying and saying he didn’t want to die. The pressure from my brother and my father, and the fear they gave me when they showed me his condition, drove me crazy, and it frustrated me to see him so sick and suffering. I burst into tears from being nervous about not being able to go out. Despite all my attempts to get them to let me out, they wouldn’t let me; I couldn’t make those people see reason. The more the days passed, the more depressed I became.
With all the complaints and crying, I managed to get them to move up the trip. At first, they told me I would go to Europe. The day I was supposed to take the trip, they left me the drugs in a bag so I could start swallowing them. Along with that, I received instructions for the trip, the departure time, and where I was going to wait for the taxi to take me to the airport. As soon as I left, I found a taxi waiting for me. The flight was leaving at 1:00 a.m. When I handed over my suitcase at the airport, they asked me if I would send it straight there. When they handed me the ticket and I checked it, I saw it said “Hong Kong”! Furious, I called to complain, and they threatened to kill me if I didn’t get on the plane.
Note: This letter has been edited. Grammar and spelling corrections have been made to improve its readability. Switch the language to Spanish to read the original.