BELIZE CITY—THENI
t’s all so frustrating, Tracey thought as she squirmed in the plastic chair and listened to Lynn Fulton translating yet another story of a young woman sucked into the sordid pit of s*x for sale in the sleazy bars and bistros of Belize City. The woman sitting across from her at a ratty card table kept dabbing at a swollen and bloody lip that rubbed painfully on a broken tooth. It was hard for her to talk, but the damaged mouth was only part of that. Like most of the other females who found their way to the safe house run by the Xchange Program, a part of UNICEF’s effort to shelter damaged, abused, and helpless women and children, this girl—she said she was 16, but there was no way to verify that—was embarrassed. Somehow, and for reasons Tracey didn’t fully comprehend, too
