Survivor Story: Brooke

Before I stumbled into the refuge of The WellHouse, my life was a chaotic storm, a relentless whirlwind of despair. The enemy lurked in every shadow, orchestrating my steps while I wandered blindly, unaware of his identity. From my earliest memories, I always had a fierce sense of right and wrong, yet I grew up in a tumultuous single-parent household alongside my mother and two brothers. Each morning, the echoes of my father's drunken rage would shatter our fragile peace, and I'd awaken to the sound of him clawing at my mother's spirit, only to leave her battered and unconscious in the room next door. This cycle of pain persisted until I reached the tender age of ten. With every fiber of my being, I promised myself I would never mirror my father's mistakes. But the harsh grip of worldly expectations soon caught up with me.  

At just fifteen, I discovered I was pregnant, and by sixteen, I held the most radiant little girl in my arms. Despite my youth, I clung fiercely to my education, aided by my steadfast mother and wise grandmother. However, just three months into motherhood, tragedy struck; my baby’s father suffered a horrific accident that left him paralyzed. My world crumbled under the weight of responsibility as I juggled caring for my precious daughter and my partner, all while striving to keep up with school and work. His descent into addiction was chaotic; prescribed pain pills soon spiraled into a nightmare filled with abuse and betrayal. I found myself spiritually bankrupt, clinging to hope that seemed ever elusive. In a moment of desperation, I turned to one of his pills, seeking solace, but instead, I plunged into a suffocating addiction that would forever alter the course of my life and that of my family. 

As the darkness consumed me, I began to slip away from everything I once cherished, losing myself in the haze of heroin. I transformed into a shadow of my former self—an unrecognizable monster devoid of faith and purpose. I welcomed two more beautiful souls into the world, unaware that they too would be born into the grips of addiction. My mother had to step in, taking custody of my children, and in that moment, I felt as if I was living my own personal hell, utterly defeated and far removed from the life I had envisioned for myself. 

Overwhelmed by the depths of my despair, I contemplated ending it all. I desperately sought escape and nearly succeeded; an overdose left me at the brink until a stranger’s compassion snatched me from the jaws of death. Psalm 138:8 echoing in my mind, I realized the Lord would weave His plans for my life amidst the chaos. After that defining moment, I embraced sobriety, and for a time, welcomed another healthy little girl into the world, yet remained blissfully unaware of the immense love of the Lord—a love that Hebrews 10:35 assures us is rewarding. 

But temptation came knocking again, leading me back into the abyss. I fell into the arms of a man I mistakenly believed cared for me, who lured me back to drugs and introduced me to a dangerous means of income—a life of exploitation. What began as an exchange of time transformed into a nightmarish existence where my body was currency, and my dignity was stripped away. For five long years, I was swept away in this harrowing tide. 

In January 2024, we returned to my hometown, where a vile hotel became my prison. My trafficker occupied one room with his cruel cousins while I was kept in another, awaiting their demands. The growing weariness of being used and longing for my family enveloped me, and my desperate desire for love and acceptance began to fade. His patience wore thin, and then, like a dark omen, a knock shattered the fragile silence. As I opened the door, he stormed in with his accomplices, and in a brutal moment, they turned my world upside down, attacking me, stripping me of my last remnants of hope and belongings. I was left utterly shattered, clinging to the fragments of who I once was, yearning for a way out, for redemption, for the embrace of love that I thought was lost forever. 

I found myself facing the darkest moment of my life, brutally stabbed by someone I once trusted, left to bleed and fade away into the shadows around 12:15. It was a desolate hotel maid, in the midst of her routine check, who stumbled upon me on that cold, unforgiving floor, desperately clinging to the fragile thread of life. Her call for an ambulance was like the first ray of hope cutting through a stormy sky. My journey to the hospital began, but seven long days later, I awoke in a jail cell, burdened by a heavy chain of charges that only I could bear. The realization hit me like a crashing wave—I had no one to blame but myself. 

Yet, within that suffocating darkness, a flicker of light emerged. Women from a local church came to the jail to offer Bible study, and even though I felt lost and uncertain of my purpose, I took the plunge. I prayed earnestly to God, seeking His strength and guidance. It was during one of those profound moments after Bible study, when a correction officer called out that I had a visitor, that everything began to change. The Attorney General's office had obtained crucial video evidence from the hotel and arrested my trafficker. They discovered my phone, sifting through it to find proof of my suffering—over $100,000 had crossed my hands to him, accompanied by haunting images of my battered self, a tapestry woven with bruises and despair. 

But then, like a breakthrough of light through the thickest fog, they offered me help with no strings attached—a lifeline thrown in my direction when I thought all hope was lost. Released from the chains of my past, I went to my grandmother’s home, leaning not just on her support but on the unwavering strength of God. I grasped the truth of 2 Corinthians 12:9-10, understanding that “His grace is sufficient” and that my weakness was but a canvas for His strength to shine through.  

I connected with an advocate who laid out a path forward for me, arranging two tickets for my mother and me to fly to Alabama, where a guardian angel named Amanda awaited my arrival at the airport. Saying goodbye to my mom that day felt different—this time we parted for the right reasons. As we drove onto the property of The WellHouse, a profound sense of safety washed over me, like a warm embrace from the Lord Himself, dissolving the remnants of fear within.   

I began in the Stabilization Center, overwhelmed by the surreal nature of my new reality. Slowly, as I immersed myself in learning about the Lord, it became crystalline clear: He had been by my side all along, guiding me. The burning shame of my past transformed into an unquenchable fire for Jesus Christ, lighting my soul anew with fervor. 1 Peter 1:13-16 became my life's anthem, urging me toward holiness and away from the shackles of my former desires. 

I took one steady step after another, entrusting my choices and path to God’s divine plan. With Him, I experienced a liberating freedom as Romans 8:1-2 echoed in my heart—there was no condemnation for me in Christ Jesus, for He had severed the ties of sin and death that once bound me. I laid down the heavy burdens that haunted me at His altar, and His faithfulness washed over me, purifying my spirit and making me blameless.  

Now, I stand on the cusp of my future with a glimmer of hope that has grown into a blaze. All 30 of my charges are set for expungement in January 2025, and my relationships with my children flourish beyond my wildest dreams. Every day, I blossom spiritually, embracing my new path as I enter trade school for welding, aiming to graduate by late February 2025. I hold dreams close to my heart, including bringing my youngest daughter to join me at The Wellhouse after I graduate. 

While my journey at The WellHouse has been rife with challenges, it has also been profoundly rewarding. I am eternally grateful to The WellHouse and its supporters—people like you have the power to spark transformation in lives like mine. Moving forward, I aspire to be a beacon of Godly inspiration, not just for my family and children, but for anyone who crosses my path. I stand firm in my faith, knowing now that with Christ, all things are possible. This is my story—a testament to the glorious grace of God.