First Word I might rather have been a slave in the Deep South before the Civil War. The road to slavery might be short or long. Mine was long. It started with parents who hid secrets that lurked in ever-growing shadows, secrets that wounded me whether I knew them or not. Their neglect of me and of what the secrets caused gave an open invitation to rapists, starting with junior high boys. Like a long, winding row of perverse dominoes, that path brutalized me on to graduation into New York City sex trafficking. Shane’s image comes alive. Unlike him it…