A Journey into the Shadows I always knew there was something different about me. When I was younger I remember reading history and not quite getting what was so bad about being a slave. Not having slaves, mind, but being one didn't seem like it was too terrible. I realized as I got older that it was more complicated than just serving someone else, and the public part of me felt guilty about this, while the private part of me still got warm and excited by the idea of having no control over my own life anymore. So I guess it shouldn't come as a surprise how quickly I was roped into a life where I had no control. Here's how it happened. About a month after graduating high school, I had started making a habit of hitchhiking. I never went far, and I always came back home, but it became a kind of a hobby. I liked the thrill of getting into a car with a stranger, of having conversations with random people, and seeing where they took me. In that month, I never encountered anyone that had any ill intentions for me. The furthest I ever went was less than a hundred miles from where I started, and the most unpleasant experience I ever had was with a fellow who didn't say a word as he drove, and took me a bit further than he said he would. I lived in a relatively mild area, so it didn't come as too much of a surprise. But then I met James. James was a long haul truck driver. He lived 90% of his time in his truck's cabin and the other 10% at rest stops. He was probably in his late 40's and had a gruff, attractive, sun baked exterior. When he first stopped for me, he was sweeter than pie. He had a light southern drawl and the habit of calling girls "sweetheart" - including me, at least at first. …the next moment changed everything
