Chapter 2: The First Run

Chapter 2:  Running 

Crazy… because little old me really believed

leaving would feel like freedom.

At the time, we were living in Santa Clara—far from Oakland, the only place that ever felt familiar. Running didn’t feel like a plan… it just felt necessary.

The first day I left, I ran to someone I thought could keep me safe.

Her name was Sarah.

She was my best friend at the time—the first real friend I made after we moved. I didn’t think twice. I just knew I needed somewhere to go.

But safety isn’t always what it looks like.

I remember hiding in her closet, my heart beating out of my chest, trying to stay quiet… trying not to be found.

And then I heard her mom.

“Get this n****r out of my house!”

Her voice cut through me sharper than anything I had already been running from.

I ended up sitting on the stairs… small, quiet, unwanted.

Watching.

That’s when I saw my dad’s car drive by.

I didn’t run to it.

I didn’t call out.

I just watched him pass me… for what felt like the last time.

And just like that—I was on my own.

⸻

I started hitchhiking.

That’s how I met Dan—an older man who, surprisingly, showed me more kindness in a moment than I was used to. He wasn’t what people would assume. He didn’t try anything. He just helped.

He drove me to San Francisco.

It was nighttime. Cold. Different.

He gave me a few dollars for food… and then I was alone again.

That night changed something in me.

I met a man.

I smoked my first blunt, trying to quiet everything in my head.

And I lost my virginity.

Not out of love. but I was taken advantage of Not out of choice the way it should’ve been.

Just trying to feel something other than fear… guilt… confusion. I genuinely thought what was my company was my rapist.

And when it was over, I didn’t feel free.

I felt lost.

I wanted to go home.

But I didn’t.

⸻

Instead… I ended up in Oakland.

But this time, it was different.

I wasn’t a kid visiting anymore.

I was outside.

No school.

No structure.

No one telling me where to be.

That’s when it really settled in:

I was a runaway.

⸻

Walking the streets, I met a guy from Richmond.

He could tell I was lost and very much 

So, his next victim…

He got me a fake ID.

And just like that… he started showing me the steps to becoming a “working girl.”

Like it was normal.

Like it was survival.

My first client paid $150.

I felt weird but boy was it quick

The guy I met he would watch me from the 2nd floor plaza on 14th and International Blvd making sure I was ok.

I remember as I’m walking toward 14th.

a Hispanic guy in a white Van pulls over

And then I saw something that stopped me cold.

My dad.

Driving. Looking for me.

But I didn’t know the full picture yet.

⸻

What I didn’t know was… he had set everything up.

The streets were blocked off.

Police on every corner.

Cameras rolling.

KTVU

Oakland Police Department

It was a sting.

And I was in the middle of it.

⸻

Next thing I knew, I was in the back of a police car—kicking, screaming, angry.

Not scared. But grateful like God answered 

my call

I screamed I yelled I was Angry.

Because somehow… my pain had turned into a story for everyone else to watch.

Me and my sister ended up all over the news.

My dad?

He used it to promote his nonprofit—

“The Right to Live.”

And I remember thinking…

How could you look so calm…

when I was falling apart?

⸻

After that, everything kept moving.

Stockton.

Then Fairfield with my grandfather.

Then back to Oakland again.

Nothing ever stayed still long enough for me to catch my breath.

⸻

I ended up with my mom in Deep East Oakland on 98th.

Life there wasn’t calm either.

At one point, she had to sue the police for planting a gun in the house.

So, we moved again.

West Oakland.

I went to Cole Middle School.

But by then… I wasn’t the same girl anymore.

I was fighting.

Getting picked on.

Lashing out.

Puberty hit, my acne got bad, and I felt ugly, angry, and out of place all at once.

I was mad at the world…

and I didn’t even fully understand why.

⸻

After a while, I stopped trying.

Stopped going to school.

Stopped coming home at night.

Just… drifting.

⸻

And the streets?

They were still there.

Waiting.