What Would You Do? You Want To Help A Young Girl Being Abused But Can’t Because Of Your Job

September 15, 2016  |  

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There’s this beautiful young girl who always comes to my job. She can’t be any older than 14. I never got the chance to get her name, so I’ll just call her Angel. Angel is the sweetest, most innocent thing you’ll ever meet. She’s polite, well-mannered and extremely shy, but I can tell that’s she’s easily manipulated. The real naïve type, ya know? But then again, she is just a kid.

From my many interactions with her, I can also tell that she’s a little cognitively challenged. And that’s what makes this story even more sad.

You see, Angel’s mom often comes along to shop with her. Since I work in retail, I’ve had plenty of opportunities to sneak snapshots of their relationship’s dynamic, and it’s not good.

Angel’s mom is verbally abusive. She barks at Angel for the simplest things, like counting out the wrong change when paying for her Skittles. She cusses her out, threatens her, snatches things from her, and gives this poor little girl some of the most devilish looks I’ve ever seen a mother give to her child. It often makes me think that Angel is exposed to a lot more than just name-calling and mean snarls when they walk outside my store’s automated doors.

There have been times when I’ve wanted to step in so badly, but held back due to the complexity of my position. Not only am I stranger to the two, but I’m witnessing this play out while I’m at work.

Sigh.

And it only gets worse…

A few months ago, I started to notice that Angel was visiting my job with an older male “friend.” And when I say older, I mean 40-plus. Now, I practically know (of) Angel’s entire family. Not only does she frequent my store with her mother, but her grandmother, brother, stepfather and uncles all pop up and shop at my job on a regular basis. I’ve never seen this guy with her or her family before.

I got a strange vibe.

The first time I saw them together, it was on a weekday during school hours. That was red flag number two, three, four and five. All types of thoughts started running through my head, and it took everything inside of me to keep my rising blood temperature from pushing through my mouth and spilling into my words like hot lava as I said, “hi.”  

I wanted to ask him who he was, if he was related, and what the dynamic of their relationship was. But more importantly, I wanted to jump across the counter and knock those crooked sunglasses of his face because I somehow felt I already knew the answers to all those questions.

A couple weeks rolled by and I noticed the pair shopping around together a few more times before Angel was back by her lonesome. When I finally saw her stroll in alone, I saw it as an opportunity to get some info. As unintrusively as I possibly could, I quizzed her about what’d happened to the old, perverted mystery creep.

“So you’re by yourself today, huh?” I questioned as she stepped up to my register and dropped her items on the counter.

“Yeah,” she answered quickly, shooting her head down and un-crumbling her tight ball of money—short and withdrawn, as she always was.

“The guy you were coming with, was that your uncle or something?” I pushed as I gathered her wrinkled dollar bills and straightened them out to count.

“No,” she replied abruptly.

There was a brief silence. I could tell she was getting uncomfortable and I felt a little guilty for digging into her personal business. Was it really my place? I mean, she is a kid, and I am a stranger, after all. But something deep inside my gut would not allow me to let go until I got the answers I was looking for.

I pried a bit more. “So your friend, what happened to him?”  

“He ditched me,” she shot back as she collected her changed, spun around and waltzed out the door.

My heart dropped. My stomach turned. My f—king blood was on fire!

Nothing else needed to be said. My suspicions had been confirmed. A f—king perverted-ass-child-molesting-little-girl-raping-predator took advantage of this poor child and disposed of her like trash. As I watched her womanly curves shimmy out the door, I couldn’t help but think of what nefarious and downright wicked things that bastard carried out on this helplessly innocent little girl.

I was disgusted, pissed, and a whole lotta other sh*t wrapped into one, but what could I do? I wanted to do something, still want to do something, but what?

I thought about telling her mom, but immediately dismissed that option. After witnessing how volatile, belligerent and aggressive Angel’s mom is toward her, I get the feeling that she’s the type who’d blame her daughter for the situation, and it wouldn’t be pretty.

Plus, my job is at stake here. It’s not my place to get involved in customer’s affairs. Point. Blank. Period. But every time I see Angel, I want to give her hug and tell her I’m here if she needs someone. Every time I spot a member of her family, I so desperately want to relay everything I know, but how would that turn out? For me and my job? For Angel and her well-being?

This is a tough spot I’m in y’all. What should I do? Somebody please help me out!

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