Rachel looked all around her. She was standing in a meadow of tall green grass sparkling with fresh dew, the light blue sky all around her, tinted with light shades of purples, pinks, reds, oranges, and yellows. The sun was slowly going down, illuminating the entire scene in a lush golden glow. Wildflowers littered the ground along with a few emerald green bushes and tall oak trees, their leaves gently swaying with the wind which playfully tugged at Rachel’s reddish-brown hair. She smiled and inhaled, the smell of fresh wood with a hint of sweet nectar ran through her body and caused her to shiver with delight. A smile tugged at her lips as she lay down upon the soft grass and closed her eyes only to fall asleep. It must’ve been hours when she woke up to a clang.

“Get up!” a man’s harsh voice rang out. Rachel scrambled to her feet. She was no longer standing in a sunlit meadow with plants of every kind, but instead she was faced with a dark, dank cell. She could no longer run away to her dreams but instead she was forced to stand before her jailor. Old, metal bars caged her in from the outside world. Water dripped down near her feet from a broken pipe in the ceiling. A rotted wooden bench sat against the wall and a small hole in the ground was to be her toilet. This had been Rachel’s home for a few months. Instead of the scent of fresh wood and sweet nectar, she was met with the putrid smell of body odor and the containments of the toilet which was not really a toilet at all. Girls shivered and shook in similar cells next to Rachel’s. It was a gruesome sight. Each of the girls were covered in dirt and grime. Blood and cuts and scrapes could be seen from all the way across the room since each girl was littered with them. These girls wore plain white nightgowns, stained with blood, pee, and dirt.

“Come here, you,” the man said as he neared Rachel’s cage. Rachel shrunk back and swallowed, but the man did not enter her cage. Instead he entered the girl’s cage next to her. Penny was a small girl of eight or nine. She had matted blonde hair and cried quite a bit and so her eyes were often red, puffy, and swollen. Penny shrieked and kicked out at the man. He ignored this as he picked her up in one swoop and tossed her over his shoulders like a rag doll. Penny screamed and cried and hit. She had still not adjusted as she had only been there a few weeks. Rachel wished that she had the courage to fight for this poor girl but to fight was foolish. In fact, if Penny didn’t learn to conform, she would be tossed into the furnace...alive. Rachel had been forced to watch it happen to other girls. The screams had been horrific and blood-curdling. It was something that no one should have had to experience.

“Someone has to do something,” a new girl called Sophie hissed. The girls each glanced at her with a look of sorrow and pity. Sophie would learn soon enough.

“Stop!” Sophie screamed. The man froze, his hand just about to close around the door handle. He turned to face Sophie, his eyebrows raised in surprise and amusement, possibly even a bit of annoyance and frustration.

“Take me instead! That girl has already been tortured enough today, let it be my turn, please,” Sophie begged. Rachel gasped. There had never, in her time in her cell, been a single soul not only willing to speak out against the evil, cruel men, but also willing to take the place of another girl. The man cocked his head, smiled with whatever rotting teeth he had left, and stalked back over to the cages. He tossed Penny into her own cell and locked the door. He then turned to face Sophie who stood up. She was shaking but still managed to stand up to her jailor. The man opened her cage and gestured for her to join him. Sophie hung her head and followed him out of the room. Penny’s cries and sobs were subsiding but she seemed unable to control her rapid breathing.

“Penny, stop crying,” complained Sara, the girl who had been there the longest. She had heard it all and had learned to conform. She let the men do whatever they wanted to her without a single cry or utterance, and these men did all sorts of things. They would not only sexually abuse the girls, but they would force their heads underwater. They would hold their wrists under scalding hot water or would even brand the girls with hot irons. Some girls were kicked and punched and slapped. Others were tortured with medieval devices. One of the girls who had been killed had been sewn into a sack filled with scorpions and bees and wasps and other biting and stinging creatures. The torture was vile and cruel. Some of the girls were actually treated well. These were the girls who did not fight but actually seemed, or perhaps pretended, to enjoy what the men did to them. These girls were dressed in fine apparel and costly jewelry and would prance about the building, enjoying expensive dining and doing whatever they wanted and whatever was asked of them. These girls were always seen clean and well-kept, unlike the girls surrounding Rachel.

“Poor Sophie, she was so brave. I’m sure she’s being beaten and abused as we speak. She did something so bold. Stupid, but bold,” Rachel whispered. Penny looked up at Rachel. She hiccuped and nodded and sat down, leaning against the bars that joined hers and Rachel’s cells. Rachel stuck her hand through one of the bars and stroked Penny’s hair, untangling the matted mess. Rachel opened her mouth to speak.

“I want you to close your eyes and try to fall asleep. And when you do, think of a gorgeous meadow. One that you would only ever seen in a movie. It’s littered with lovely wildflowers and tall green grass. There is not a patch of dead grass to be seen. The trees and bushes nearby sway with the wind. There is a gentle bubbling creek nearby with an old fashioned stone bridge that lays over it. There is the smell of honey in the air and when you inhale, it’s all you can think about. A doe can be seen nearby. She is helping to teach her little fawns how to walk and find their own food. There are few wispy clouds in the sky, each getting a tad darker as the sun inches its way down.” Rachel paused. Several of the girls were listening, pondering on her words. Penny’s eyes were closed, her breathing getting deeper and deeper.

“There are birds twittering in the trees, whistling a tune easy to remember. This is the place you can always turn to when you are distressed. This is the place you can run away to when you need a distraction. That is the only way you will ever be able to survive this dark place. By running away to whatever lies in store in your dreams. You just have to close your eyes and imagine. That is what will save you when there is no one left to help you or guide you and you are stuck wallowing in your misery. Running away to your dreams.”

At some point everyone struggles. At some point everyone feels alone. They feel this whether it is true or not. Life is hard. Some people use different techniques or beliefs to stay on their feet, but others face the torrential downpours that the world has to offer and they begin to stumble and fall. I am one of those people. I find myself struggling to stay afloat in the murky waters of the world. What is right? What is wrong? Am I right? Am I wrong? What is the point? I ask myself this a lot. In fact, it makes it very hard to want to continue with anything because of these thoughts that strike me at my very core. I've quit a lot of things. I've quit ballet, tap dance, martial arts, soccer, softball, and so much more. Life sometimes appear hopeless to me and I begin to think about...other options. This was a recurring thought for me when I went to an annual girl's church camp.

Near the campsite is a beautiful church building and historical site. The church building glows at night, lighting up the sky, acting as a beacon of light and hope. My friend, Manhattan took me and several other girls down to see the building light up. We got there only to be met with a pitch black darkness. The building was not lit up for the night. My friend said a few words about her beliefs of the church and offered for the girls to stay and ponder their thoughts and feelings despite the fact that the building had not glowed that night. Most of the girls stayed for a good two minutes. I stayed a bit longer.

I felt tears slip down my face as I said a silent prayer. By the way, I know that some do not believe in prayer or God, but that is not the main point of this. Anyways, as I said this prayer, I confessed my feelings. I had been feeling very confused with my emotions. At times they were strong, sometimes for what seemed to be no good reason. Other times, my emotions would appear to be nonexistent. I would either be filled with the most horrible emotions or I would be filled with an emptiness that would eat me up inside. At the time that I was saying my prayer I felt hopeless, confused, and as if I was not worth much. I wasn't good at anything and I could never make anyone happy. So, I prayed for someone at camp to be my angel for the week. I prayed for someone to help me know that I was not worthless or alone. After saying this prayer I made my way back to my campsite and laid down, hoping for a friend.

The next day passed by relatively quickly. It was the last full day of camp. The next day we would pack our stuff up and drive on out. I felt upset. No one had stood out to me as some kind of angel. My prayer had not been answered. Then, that night we had a meeting with a group of girls from our home ward with our bishop. Some girls from my ward stood and gave a few thoughts. I thought about saying a few things but I didn't feel that anything I had to say would be valued by anyone and so I kept my mouth shut. Then one of my friends who doesn't come to church very often stood up. She was crying. It was unbelievable. This girl rarely ever acted sad or even mad. She was very good at acting annoyed though.

"I just wanted to say that I wasn't going to come to camp this year. I wanted to but cheer camp got in the way and so I wasn't going to be able to come. I figured that no one would want me to come anyway. Then a few weeks ago during our yard sale fundraiser, I was working with Amber, (me), and she told me that she wanted me to come to camp. I was struggling with feeling wanted and feeling as though I belonged and yet here this girl was, telling me exactly what I needed to hear. I wasn't going to say anything except that only Amber and myself knew what happened and I wanted other people to know about it," and with that my friend sat down. I wasn't sure if anyone could tell because of how dark it had become, but I was sitting on my stool, tears slipping down my face. I was crying so hard, shaking practically. One though was going through my head. I did something good; something right.

We said a prayer to close out the night and right away, my friend stood up and came over to me and we hugged each other. That was another thing I had needed that week. I had been desperate for a hug, but too afraid and ashamed to ask for one. My friend gave me the best hug I could ask for. It wasn't nice because of how hard she squeezed, but because of the passion she used as she wrapped her arms around me as we both cried into each other's shoulders. She was my angel. She was the answer to my prayers. This girl was the one who made me feel as though I was wanted. I was needed!

Angels do exist everywhere. When you need that little bit of comfort or even just a hug, there are people out there. These people can be anyone. They can be friends, family, coworkers, boyfriends, girlfriends, and so on. They don't always know it and we don't always recognize it, but they are there. Everyone has that angel waiting for them in disguise.