I was on my way to the hospital—a special place dedicated to rescuing people, especially those forced into lives of hardship, like sex work or drug trafficking from a young age. We focus on giving them a safe haven and a fresh start.

As I arrived, I noticed that some of the patients looked better than before. Once they recover fully, they’ll be transferred to our affiliated NGOs, where they can learn new skills and start rebuilding their lives.

While I was walking around, a loud cry caught my attention. I hurried over and saw a young girl, about 8 or 10 years old, with bandages on her head, legs, and hands. She was thrashing her legs in pain, and I could see how much she was suffering. I asked one of the doctors nearby, who was trying to calm her, and he explained that the drugs she’d been forced to consume were causing severe withdrawal symptoms.

I nodded in understanding and approached her gently. Wrapping my arms around her, I held her tightly, hoping my embrace could offer some comfort and help calm her.

The girl’s cries softened as I held her, but I could still feel her body trembling from the pain. Her small hands clung to my clothes, and I could sense the fear and hurt she was holding inside. I whispered soothing words, telling her she was safe now and that nobody could harm her here.