As if my life couldn’t get any worse, I have started to get sick more frequently. I have lost count of the years that have come and gone but thanks to the physical changes in my body I believe that I am at least thirteen years of age. The further proof that I am pretty close in my estimation is that my period started a couple of years ago.

Over the last year or so I have been experiencing fever, chills, headaches and even night sweats. My muscles and joints have also begun to ache and no matter how much sleep I get, I am always tired. The antibiotics that our doctor gives us doesn’t seem to be working anymore.

When doctor Yildirim made his monthly rounds he listened to my description of the symptoms that I was experiencing. He did something he had never did before, he took some of my blood. He said that he would be back next month with the results. He told me that he would keep it our litle secret. He warned me not to say anything to Dinara about what he had done. Because if what he thinks I have is correct, my life would not be worth anything.

I did what he told me and I just kept on doing what I normally do and that is to keep quiet. Besides what do I care if any of the men that are raping me get infected. It would serve them right. When Dr. Yildirim came back a month later he told me the bad news, I had HIV and it was quite advanced. He said that I was most likely infected when I was very young. So it looks like my adopted father was the one who gave it to me. I am sure that he did not wear any protection when he repeatedly raped me. So not only did he ruin my life by having me kidnapped he essentially killed me as well. My only consolation is that if there is any justice in this world he is rotting in hell.

My days are now numbered because there is no way that they will be able to treat me or even want to treat me in the brothel. It is just cheaper to keep me till I can’t work any more than simply kill me to make room for another girl. I know one thing when I die…it’ll be as a free person. I will not die in this brothel.

Before Dr. Yildirim left he said that he would do what he could to make me more comfortable and that he would keep it from Dinara as long as he could, but eventually she will figure it out.

With the doctor’s help, hopefully, I will be able to keep my secret for a while. Or at least until I can come up with a plan to escape. Maybe if I am lucky, they will just let me go. There might be some humanity still left in Dinara. One can only hope.

The doctor wants me to continue taking antibiotics even if I am not sick. He said that with advanced HIV, my body would not be able to fight infections very well. So the medicine would help to keep me a little healthier. I am afraid. I don’t want to die. My life never even got started. I have been nothing but a plaything for perverted men who like to have sex with young girls. I apologize for my disjointed thoughts, while I suspected that I was very sick, the news still came as a shock to me and I am having a difficult time thinking clearly.

I will never go to my prom or fall in love and get married and have children. I will never see my family again. I wonder what my brother Peter is doing now? Are my parents still looking for me, or have they given up and moved on with their lives?

Of course, my life as a sex slave continued on without a pause. The money had to keep rolling in, no matter what. It didn’t matter if we were on our period. We just used our mouths instead, or they could enter us from the back. It didn’t matter to Dinara, how much it hurt us or how tired we were. Girls that no longer could perform just disappeared.

How can people do this to each other? I will never understand it. Some of the girls here have been sold by their family to pay bills or buy food. Others have been tricked into it by supposed friends and even boyfriends. The more I see the bad side of people, the more I hate them. I know I shouldn’t feel the way I do. But I do feel that way. I can’t help myself. What do I have to be happy for? I am thirteen going on fourteen years of age, and my life is virtually over. I have maybe two more years to live. The only thing that keeps me fighting is the chance that I may become free someday. Maybe death is not such a bad thing. At least, I will be free from this living hell of mine.

Time continues to pass on and Dr. Yildirim has kept his word. He is keeping me as healthy as possible with antibiotics and vitamins. I am actually starting to feel a little better. But I know it is only a matter of time. By my best recollection, I am now at least fourteen years old.

Thankfully, I haven’t had to go to any parties lately. I just don’t think I would have the strength to do them anymore. Maybe Dinara knows that I am sick and is taking pity on me. I have, after all, been here eight years. That has to count for something.

I have noticed something that the older we get, the less busy we are becoming. It seems like the clients that frequent our brothel prefer younger girls. Maybe that is why there are no women but only girls working here. Maybe Madame Dinara sells us when we get too old? I don’t want to think of the alternative. That is just too cold and callous to even contemplate. There is another possibility. Maybe she just sets them free. Wouldn’t that be grand. I am sure that is just too much to hope for.

Just a few years ago, I saw seven to eight men a day. Now, I am only seeing four to five a day. I am doing my best to look pretty because if I no longer attract the men, bad things could happen to me. I even shave down below to make me look more like a young girl. I can’t do anything about my breasts. They just keep on growing. I don’t want to leave Define behind. She is lucky, her breasts are still quite small, and even though she is seventeen now, she looks younger than I do. She is still getting just as many men to be with now as she did when she was younger.

I haven’t talked to Betsy lately. Maybe she can help me. It was nice to talk to my old friend. She felt bad that I had HIV now. But she came up with an idea when we were talking. She told me to put tape on the door lock. In the daytime the door going to our waiting room is unlocked. Baris and Emre both lock it at night. All the rest of the locks can be opened from the inside without a key. All I have to do is get some clear tape that won’t be easy to see. Boy is Betsy Smart. The problem is where do I get the tape?

Then out of nowhere it came to me that Dr. Yildirim’s medical bag had tape in it. Maybe that is why I got sick. It was a way for me to escape. I am the only one the doctor spent any time with on a regular basis. Sometimes, God works in mysterious ways. I better not dawdle… time is running out for me. My fifteenth birthday has just flown on by and my sixteenth one is starting to draw close. Dr. Yildirim had warned me that I would be lucky to make it to my sixteenth birthday. He told me that I was in full blown AIDS now. The antibiotics and vitamins were the only thing keeping me going right now. One bad case of pneumonia and it would be over for me.

If I want to see the ocean/sea and a sunset/sunrise before I die something has to happen soon. The next time, Dr. Yildirim checks up on me I gave to steal a roll of his clear tape.

Now that I have finalized my plans, the two weeks before the doctor’s next visit seemed to take forever. As my time to freedom drew closer, every man who raped me seemed more odious. I started to cringe when they touched me, and something I hadn’t done in years, I started crying after each john finished with me.

Finally it was time for Dr. Yildirim to make his monthly visit. After he checked me out and asked a few questions, he gave me my antibiotics. As he rolled up his blood pressure cuff and stethoscope, I quickly snatched a small roll of clear tape from his bag. If he noticed me doing it, he never said a word to me. He quickly loaded up his bag , said his goodbyes and left.

I stashed the roll of tape in a small hole in my mattress, took my pills, and went upstairs to start my last day as a sex slave.

Last known photo of Yua approximately 16 years of age