Savannah

By Larissa Self

Angie Nuland had worked a nine-month internship at the British Museum after she graduated from UCLA. Years later, she's excited to share her experiences with her daughters Savannah and Macy and her husband, Rick. The Nulands' travel plans include a five-day trip to France before heading to the United Kingdom. On their last night in Paris, an innocent mishap with their youngest daughter initiates a devastating chain of events that changes the family's life forever.

Five years have passed, and Savannah's fate comes to light. After years of grooming, she is auctioned to a Middle Eastern man who then gives her as a gift to Ali, his youngest of three sons. Aware of the brothers' heinous treatment toward the women owned by them, Savannah anticipates her death and even welcomes it, if only to end her suffering. That is, until she meets Ali's younger sister, Faizal. A bond between the two young women is formed, giving Savannah a reason to live. However, the rift between Ali and his brother, Omari, is heightened when Savannah's beauty is unveiled. Jealousy, rage, and family honor put Savannah's life on borrowed time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Feb 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9781685708382

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Savannah

Larissa Self

ISBN 978-1-68570-837-5 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-68570-838-2 (digital)

Copyright © 2022 by Larissa Self

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Any biblical references are from NIV or CSB translations.

Cover Design by: Keith Silvas

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

To Craig Sawman Sawyer, founder of V4CR and the man who inspired this series.

Thank you, sir, for all that you do.

I'm in awe of you and your dedication to fight human trafficking.

Author's Notes

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

About the Author

To Craig Sawman Sawyer, founder of V4CR and the man who inspired this series.

Thank you, sir, for all that you do.

I'm in awe of you and your dedication to fight human trafficking.

Author's Notes

Human trafficking is an epidemic that has spread across the globe at an unprecedented rate. While doing the research for this book, I was astounded by the amount of money being made at the expense of our children: $150 billion a year, while the overhead cost to the traffickers is zero. They take our children at random. While our hearts break, our children are being abused, their self-worth destroyed, their innocence and childhood ripped from them, their joy and hope gone, and at times, they are killed. There are amazing people who have made it their life's mission to fight against these predators: V4CR (Vets for Child Rescue) vets4childrescue.org; Magdalene Hope, magdalenehope.org; and Rebecca Bender, rebeccabender.org. I hope you'll check them out and give them your support as it's our children who are at risk. Help stop slavery.

—Larissa Self

If you or someone you know is being trafficked, you can call the National Human Trafficking Hotline in the United States: 1(888)373-7888 to leave an anonymous tip for immediate help.

Or contact the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children at 1(800)843-5678 or report on their cyber tip line: https://report.cybertip.org.

Acknowledgments

First and foremost, to my Lord and Savior, Jesus. Your blood has paid the price and given value to my life. Your love and constant care for me never ceases to amaze me. Thank you for Your grace, mercy, and love. Because of You, my life is abundant.

To my husband, David, and my children, I love you and thank you for all the support over the years. I'm truly blessed because of your being in my life.

To my mother, Ann Daniel, thank you for your love and support.

To Sandy Armstrong, my utmost, heartfelt thank you for your friendship and for all the editing you've done for me over the years. You've taught me a great deal about writing. I just hope I can remember it all. Thank you doesn't seem enough.

To Debbie Stallworth, you are proof that God puts the right people in our lives just when we need them most. Telling a writer that you paid your way through college by editing professors' papers kicked open the door to this. Thank you for welcoming me into your life and for being a wonderful friend.

Not only have I been blessed with a wonderful family, but God has blessed me with an amazing support group of friends: Sheri Bryant, Annette Cotterell, Tami Foshee, Shannon Lassetter, Carrie Prestage, Brandi Pyle, and Susan Rolfsen. You ladies have made my life fun and this writing journey a reality. I can't thank you enough for always being there for me no matter the miles between us.

To Jenny Este and Gay Chambers, I can't thank you enough for all the wonderful input you've given me throughout the writing of this series. You've made our critique group fun.

To Keith Silvas, my web guy, the book cover artist, and just an all-around great guy. I'm so happy God brought us together. There are no words to express my gratitude for all you've done for me. I have been blessed by simply knowing you. You're the best! You can find Keith at www.keithsilvas.com.

To Margaret L. Schulz, I was sad to hear of your passing, but I will always remember you with fondness. I will cherish the memories I have of you and thank God I had the opportunity to get to know you. You're now in our Heavenly Father's arms. I love you and miss you.

To Craig Sawman Sawyer, founder of V4CR, thank you for doing what you do to help our children who otherwise would never get the help they need. You have opened my eyes to the terrible world of human trafficking and are the inspiration behind this series. Thank you, sir, for bringing awareness to the epidemic of child trafficking, exposing criminals who traffic them, and for putting these predators behind bars. You are a rare breed. May the Lord bless you in your continued fight to save our children. You can check out his amazing organization at vets4childrescue.org.

Chapter 1

Ibrahim had become infatuated with his wife, Rihana, from the moment they met. Though their families had arranged their marriage, they had fallen in love and lived a happy life until Rihana's passing. He still mourned her death, and because he did, Ibrahim could never bring himself to remarry.

Rihana had given him three sons and a daughter. She was a wonderful mother and taught her children the ways of their faith from the moment they woke until they went to bed. It was her greatest wish that her sons should marry good women from their faith. Ibrahim was grateful that she wasn't alive to see what their boys had become. Instead of honoring their mother's wishes, they sought after their own selfish desires.

He prayed that Ali, his favorite and youngest son, would change his ways and settle down. A family of his own would do that, but no woman was suitable enough, or so Ali claimed. This one will be different. I am positive, Ibrahim assured himself.

The deceleration of the car pulled him from his thoughts. They had arrived at Ali's villa. Before his son got out of the vehicle, Ibrahim grabbed his forearm and said, This gift that awaits you is a jewel like none other. I hope she pleases you and that you treat her wisely. Perhaps you can look to the future with this one.

Fascinated by his father's comment, Ali said, Thank you. I cannot wait to see her.

My son, understand…she is the last one I offer to you. I will do this no more, not for you, not for your brothers.

One brow lifted as Ali studied his father. I understand. Intrigued by what awaited him, he closed the car door and hurried inside.

Adrenaline rushed through Ali as he raced up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. Out of breath by the time he got to the second floor, he slowed his stride, hoping to suppress his eagerness. Despite his efforts, his heart pounded, and his stomach fluttered. It wasn't until he stood in front of the bedroom door that he took a moment to calm down. Then, realizing his expectations could end in disappointment, he opened the door and entered the room unannounced.

To Ali's surprise, his father hadn't lied. She was indeed a rare jewel. Though her head was down, he was pleased with what he saw.

My father has been kind to me. What a treasure you are. His voice wasn't welcoming. Instead, it exemplified the strong undertone of his lustful desires.

The young woman stood still, as if she sensed her impending death.

Yes, I think I will enjoy my time with you…whore.

Surprised, Savannah lowered her eyes. The timidness in her voice betrayed the confidence she tried to convey when she said, I'm sorry, I don't understand. When your father explained what my role would be, he said I would make his son a suitable bride. Am I to be your wife or your whore? Then she added more assuredly, If I am to be your wife, then please give me a chance to prove myself to you. But if I am your whore, then by all means, do with me as you please.

Fully prepared to hit her for her insolence, Ali raised his hand.

She didn't flinch.

His brow furrowed and then relaxed as he brought his hand down. She was nothing like the other Western whores his father had bought for him. The first notable difference was the girl's beauty: silky, thick, long blond hair and not overly skinny. Even with her sleeping garment on, her curves showed. Whoever his father had bought this girl from had taken good care of her.

With his left hand, he lifted her chin and took a moment to study her face. She refused to look at him. Open your eyes, girl.

When she did, he released her and took a step back.

Not prepared for his reaction, she quickly diverted her eyes toward the floor. Fearful that she wasn't pleasing to him, her body trembled under the thin cotton gown.

Once he regained his composure, he demanded, Look at me, girl!

His harsh tone terrified her, but she did as ordered and raised her eyes to his. I'm sorry if my face offends you.

You are not so foolish as to believe you are ugly?

No, but not everyone finds me beautiful, she said. Your father did, and that's why I'm here. He was sure I would please you. If I don't, then the cost of sparing my virginity was too high a price to pay.

Her comment rendered him speechless for a moment. His father had always given him and his brothers women who were well versed in how to bring them pleasure in bed. But to have a virgin, someone not trained, was a wonderful gift. He moved around her, inspecting her like he would a new car.

Even though the critical attention he was now giving Savannah paralyzed her, she was able to follow him with her eyes as he circled her.

A man could swim in your eyes. They are so blue—nothing like I have ever seen before.

She bowed her head slightly.

You are bewitching, he whispered more to himself than to her. I find you to be very beautiful, and knowing you are a virgin is the greatest gift my father could have given me. I am pleased with you. But to be clear, girl, you are not my wife. Nor will you ever be. You are a toy, to be played with at my choosing. Do you understand?

Yes.

Good! I will not have sex with you tonight. I will send Faizal in, and she will teach you my expectations. Beautiful or not, I will punish you if you fail in your duties. Are we clear?

Savannah's graciousness and genteel manner was ceremonious as she bowed and answered, Yes, as it should be.

Reluctant to leave, Ali held the knob but didn't open the door. Instead, he studied her for a moment while his lips curled into an ominous smile. You are someone's daughter, and it gives me a great deal of pleasure to know that they are in tremendous pain because of your absence. I hate Westerners, and to know that I am the reason for the suffering of one American family brings me an abundance of joy.

With those final piercing words, the door closed behind him. Savannah heard a click, signaling he had locked her in the room. Pain penetrated deep inside her chest, causing her to take quick, abnormal breaths. She clutched her gown and collapsed on the floor next to the bed. Then grabbing the bedspread, she buried her face and wept.

Please, sweet Jesus, it's been nearly five years. Am I never to return to my family? Savannah cried out in a whisper. I can't remember their faces anymore or the sound of their voices. Please, God, I want to go home! She stayed in a crumpled heap on the floor and wept.

If my brother ever hears you utter Jesus's name, he will slice your throat. A young woman's voice cut through her moaning.

Startled, Savannah lifted her gaze. A beautiful young woman stood over her who was close to, if not the same age as herself, with silky brown skin. Her hair shone as black as the night and fell past her shoulders. When she spoke, her perfect white teeth glistened. Her rich brown eyes were warm and welcoming, easing Savannah's mind. The woman held out her slender hand as a kind gesture to help Savannah to her feet. The indecision to take it only lasted a second.

Thank you, she said, once standing. Who are you?

Shorter than Savannah by a few inches, the young woman looked up at her. She smiled and answered in flawless English, I am Faizal Rada. My brother, Ali, has ordered me to help you learn your place here. Starting with no more talk of your false god.

Savannah swallowed back the lump in her throat and whispered, He's your brother?

Yes. He is better than the other two, but they are all to be feared. This is Ali's house, and I live here with him now that my mother is dead.

I'm sorry about your mother. Why aren't you living with your father?

The expression on Faizal's face let Savannah know she had asked a personal question—one she shouldn't have. Instead of reprimanding her, the young woman shrugged her shoulders and answered, Though it is none of your concern, I will tell you. But only because I need to talk to someone other than the servants, or I will go mad. My father is an evil man, and I am glad to live here with my brother. Besides, he travels too much and forbids me to live alone without a male figure to watch over me. Ali is better than my other brothers and is good to me, so I asked him to let me live here.

It is a blessing you have such a wonderful brother.

Wonderful? Faizal's eyes narrowed. No. I said he was better than my other brothers. Make no mistake, girl, the same evil that runs through their veins also runs through Ali's. The quicker you learn this, the better your life will be. He killed the last girl my father gave him. As long as I remember my place when he is around, then I am okay. You would do well not to forget that yourself. He likes to hit the servants, so do not think he will not do the same to you.

What Faizal shared reminded Savannah of the last five years she had spent with Olsen Popova, the man who had abducted her. The first rule she learned was to always obey her captors. To speak only when spoken to and when asked to do something, do it without hesitation or question. Olsen had insisted on it.

She had to adapt quickly, because when she faltered on any rule, Olsen would severely beat one of the other girls in his care. He had nearly beaten one to death because of her. Then to make sure Savannah never forgot her place, he made her watch while he did. Sometimes he would actually taunt her, trying to get her to mess up just so he could hit someone. She never gave in and worked hard, learning everything he insisted she learn.

Ammon, an Egyptian, had worked for Olsen for fifteen years and trained hundreds of his most valuable girls. These were the girls he kept until they had the body of a woman but were still young enough to entice older and wealthier men to buy them. Ammon's job was to educate them about the different North African and Arab cultures and what would be expected of them, including what could happen if they didn't meet those expectations.

When Ammon met Savannah for the first time, he had liked her right away, and she quickly became his favorite. He did things for her he never considered doing for the other girls. Languages, he had explained, were the most important thing he would teach her, but he made her promise never to tell Olsen or her new master that she could speak anything other than English. Savannah's linguistical mind gobbled up every language taught to her. She had an ear for them and had secretly learned several Slavic languages—Russian, Belarusian, and Ukrainian—from some of the other girls, while Ammon taught her French, Italian, and Arabic. She kept her word to him and never gave the slightest indication that she spoke anything but English.

Besides teaching her languages, he gave her books and newspapers from other countries so she could not only speak the languages but would be able to read them too. Because she was eager to learn, he taught her some math, but she loved world history the most. When he wasn't teaching her academics, he was coaching her on the proper etiquette that was becoming of a woman in most male-dominated societies. He wanted Savannah to survive and gave her the tools necessary to do so.

Right before Olsen sold her at auction, Ammon decided to help Savannah and offered to be a courier for her. He tried to get a letter out to her family, but Olsen found out somehow and shot the Egyptian in the head while Savannah watched in horror. Then, just for an extra measure, he let his men have their way with one of the new arrivals and, again, made her watch. That was the last time she had ever allowed herself to get close to anyone.

Savannah smiled at Faizal and spoke with conviction, I will not be the cause of your or anyone else's anguish. What you tell me to do, I will do.

Five years earlier

With this being their last night in Paris, Rick Nuland asked the hotel concierge to make a reservation at one of the nicer restaurants for his family. He even tipped the woman for her efforts, and she gladly took care of his request.

The taxi dropped the Nulands off in front of La Mère Antoinette, one of the oldest and finest eateries in Paris. Though the restaurant still held on to its appeal, the neighborhood where it was located had not. The taxi driver warned, This area no good for walking. The maître d' call for taxi when you done, yes?

Yeah, sure. Thanks, Rick answered.

La Mère Antionette was small but charming. Robust Boston ferns and English ivy hung spaciously in the front window, giving some privacy to its patrons dining inside. The ambiance was elegant, and whatever worry the taxi driver had burdened Rick with had disappeared. The hostess grabbed menus and showed Rick and his family to their table.

Thank you, he said to the young woman while pulling out his chair.

She gave a silent gesture of you're welcome before she went back to her station.

The tables were a little too close for Rick's liking, but the other guests took no notice of them as they sat down. Four men to his left were deep in conversation and only glanced up for a second when he and his family were shown to their table.

The waiter brought a basket of hot bread and butter and set it in front of Rick. He ignored him and opened his menu, hoping to find some English words that would identify the food choices.

Angie said, Juste de l'eau s'il vous plait.

The waiter asked her in English, Only water, madame?

Yes, please. I hope I said that correctly.

Your French very good, but tonight I practice my English.

Of course, she said, smiling.

Mom, I have to go to the bathroom, nine-year-old Macy announced.

I'll take her. I need to go too, twelve-year-old Savannah offered.

Glancing across the table at her husband, Angie asked, Do you think it's okay for them to go alone?

Yeah, sure, Rick answered, never looking up from his menu. My French isn't as good as yours. You need to stay and order for us. Savannah, no goofing off. You girls go take care of business and get back here.

Don't forget to wash your hands! their mother reminded them.

Macy leaped out of her chair in front of a waiter carrying a tray full of drinks, causing the man to stumble and the tray to slide forward. Four glasses slid off, spilling onto a man sitting at the table next to Rick and his family.

Angie jumped up, grabbed her daughter, and pulled her away from the server, yelling, Macy!

The chaos that followed snapped Rick from trying to decipher the menu and launched him out of his chair. He found himself face-to-face with a very tall, angry, European man shouting at his wife and Macy in a language he couldn't understand. Rick tried to diffuse the man's temper by saying, I'm sorry about this. It was an accident. Let me pay for your dinner.

The man's hands went up in the air as he spoke in perfect English. I have whiskey all over me. How can I eat? You stupid Americans and your idiotic pests!

The European threw his napkin on the floor and yelled at his friends, ordering them to leave. Rick watched in horror as each man glared at him, with one spitting in his face as he passed. The manager rushed over just in time to see the men leave. Rick took his napkin and wiped the spittle off while the manager stared at him. Then, glancing over at the waiter, he said something in French that Rick didn't understand. When he finished speaking to the young server, he faced Angie and Macy, shaking his head.

Madame, please, you must leave. This is no good. Please, your family must go at once.

Confused by his request, Angie pleaded, I'm sorry about all of this, but it was an accident. Our children need to eat.

No, madame, they may not eat here. You must leave at once. The manager held his arm out toward the door. Now, please! I do not need trouble.

Mom, I need to pee, Macy whined.

Frustrated, Angie glared at the manager. Fine, but you're not stopping us from using the restroom.

Rick pushed in his chair and waited for his girls to pass before he offered, I can pay for this.

No, no, please, you must go. That man is very bad. You must go before he comes back. Please, you go now!

The manager clapped his hands and motioned for another server to come help with the cleanup. All the while, the other patrons watched and whispered as Rick and his daughter, Savannah, left the dining room. They waited in the vestibule for Angie and Macy to return. Seeing his youngest daughter coming toward him, he knelt down and gave her a hug. Then, holding her at arm's length, he took a moment to consider his words.

Macy, honey, I know you didn't mean to cause any trouble, but you need to pay attention to what you're doing.

I'm sorry, Daddy.

Looking up at his wife, he offered, Okay, I guess we take a cab back to the hotel. Maybe I can get the taxi driver to stop somewhere to pick up some food so we can take it back to our room. Rick stood, opened the door, and walked outside to see if he could find a cab.

The second his foot hit the sidewalk, someone from behind crammed a gun in his ribs, saying, You make sound, you die. With his last word, the man forced the barrel further into Rick's side.

A strong arm grabbed Angie around the waist while a large hand covered her mouth, stifling her scream. Savannah and Macy kicked the air as their bodies were lifted from the ground. No sound came from either of them. The men easily carried Angie and her girls into the alley behind the restaurant. Uneven ground made Rick stumble as he followed.

Angie fought until she heard the man snap, You fight, I kill daughters!

Putrid garbage and cats fighting close by filled Rick's senses as the gunman forced him and his family into a deserted parking lot. It was dark and full of rotting piles of trash and old cars stripped of tires and other parts. At that very moment, the taxi driver's words came back to haunt him: This area no good for walking. Rick now understood his meaning.

The enraged European forcibly whipped Rick around to face him. The tall, well-built man had dirty blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and a face chiseled with rage. Rick shuddered, and his voice gasped for air as he fought to defuse the situation.

Listen, I'm sorry about what happened, but…this isn't necessary. I'll pay to have your suit cleaned, and I'll even pay for your drinks.

The European's lips parted, forming a menacing smile. Oh, yes, Mister America, you will pay, but the cost will be much higher. I take your girls for payment. I will sell them, but not before I personally train them in a few pleasures.

Rick! Angie screamed in horror.

What? You…you can't…, Rick stammered.

With the man's face only inches from his, Rick could smell the European's foul breath when he explained, Oh yes, I can. It will be my pleasure. I laugh at you when you plead to the public to help you find your daughters. To give you small sample of what life will be like for your pretty little girls, my friend here show you with your wife.

He snapped his fingers, and the man with a firm grip on Angie dragged her over to a car and threw her on top of the trunk. She screamed, kicked, and twisted, doing all that she could to fight him. The man punched her in the face with such force that he knocked her unconscious.

Rick fought to free himself, but a blow to the back of the head put an end to his feeble attempt. The European grabbed a fistful of Rick's hair, forcing him to watch. His mind spun and eyes burned as he helplessly watched the brutal attack on his wife.

Savannah turned away and shielded her little sister's eyes from what was happening to their mother.

When the man finished, his derisive laughter echoed throughout the parking lot. Angie's body lay in a heap on the asphalt. Then, without warning, they beat Rick so severely that he lay lifeless on the ground. The European yelled something at his men, and they stopped. As a last measure, the one who raped his wife spit on Rick before he walked away.

The European examined the couple's daughters and smiled. Ah, my dear, sweet girls, say goodbye to your parents. You will never see them again. I have plans for you that will bring me a great deal of money. Come, we go!

Paralyzed, the girls didn't move. Powerful arms grabbed the sisters and carried them to a black Mercedes-Benz SUV. He opened the back end and threw both girls inside, slamming the door behind them. Savannah watched his boss slap him hard on the head and yell at him in a language she didn't understand. Macy curled up into her sister's arms, crying. Once all their captors were in the vehicle, one man yelled over his shoulder, Shut up, you stupid girl!

Savannah's face paled as she tightened her hold on her little sister. Through quivering lips, she whispered, Shush, Macy, everything will be okay.

Present day

Rick could barely walk and used the wall in the back alley to steady himself. He had promised he wouldn't do this anymore but had succumbed to his failures. Finding a doorway, he slid down to rest for a few minutes on its step. All he needed to do was sleep off his drunken stupor. He folded his arms as he curled his body toward the door and closed his eyes.

He hated sleep. It brought him nothing but torment. Images of his girls danced inside his head,