Theresa Flores comes from a wealthy family. Her father always held a high executive position that forced her family to move all over the United States. She lived in Indiana, Ohio and Michigan among others. She has three younger brothers, a loving mother and a protecting father. She went camping with them to Yellowstone National Park and Disney World. Her family was Catholic and wherever Flores went church was one of her favorite places.

“I had a beautiful blessed life,” said Flores.

But none of these things protected her or made her immune to what she went through when she was only 15 years old.

That experience is what brought Flores to Ashland University and many other schools. On Jan. 25, Flores was standing behind the podium, talking about horrors that are hard to believe.

Flores had blonde puffy hair accompanied with cheeks that had slightly red circles. She had an innocent face. She did not party, drink or talk to boys.

It was in the middle of her freshmen year of high school when her father was transferred to Birmingham, MI., a rich suburb.

Flores did not only need to handle all the difficulties of being freshmen, but on top of that, she needed to adapt to a new school, make new friends and start her life all over again.

Flores never lived in the same house for more than a couple of years. She doesn’t remember who she went to kindergarten with. Every time she moved, she was desperately looking for that feeling of belonging.

Flores noticed a guy the first time she stepped into her new school. He was different from any other guy she ever met. He wore Ralph Lauren shirts and gold bracelets.

“He was paying a lot of attention to me. That had never happened before,” said Flores. “Every time I would turn he was there smiling.”

He would complement Flores any time he could.

“Theresa you look pretty today, I like that scarf on you,” the guy said.

“I loved the attention,” said Flores.

However, Flores’ dream guy wasn’t in the same circle of friends as her. It was not until her sophomore year that Flores talked with him.

She was running to her locker when she turned the corner and there he was smiling.

“Do you want a ride back home?” he asked Flores.

She knew that she was not allowed to date any guy until she was 17 years old. What brought Flores to say yes to his offer was a mixture of rebellion and her teenage dream of a prince charming.

She stepped into his 1980 Trans Am.

He went out of the parking lot turning left instead of right, where Flores lived.

“Warning flags went up in my head,” Flores said. “Then I thought, ‘Theresa, you are being stupid. You know this guy; you go to the same school and church with him.’”

The guy showed Flores his lavish house and offered her a pop, like every good host.

She was drugged and raped that day.

When she came back to her house she felt guilty, ashamed and dirty.

“The biggest mistake that I made was that I didn’t tell my mom,” said Flores.

Flores thought that her parents were going to be disappointed in her. She would be grounded. What happened to her was unacceptable.

“I kept it to myself,” said Flores.

A couple of days later, the guy came to Flores with an envelope in his hands. The envelope had pictures of what happened that day. He threatened to publish the pictures all over the school and in her church. He was going to send it to his dad’s boss and he would lose his job. He was going to kill her family if Flores dared to talk.

“You will have to earn them back,” he said.

“I thought he meant washing his car or doing his homework,” said Flores.

The guy called her one night and ordered her to appear for immediate service.

“I was taken in my pajamas, barefoot I snuck out,” said Flores. “I would go down stairs, through a glass door that I would leave open just an inch and I would run through my backyard. Then through my neighbor’s backyard and waited for the Trans Am to pick me up.”

For two years Flores was taken to upscale rich houses all around the Detroit area. She was taken through the side doors, down the stairs to the basements. There was always a bed with men inside.

“l was tied up, sometimes tortured,” said Flores. “I was just waiting man after man until they were finished with me.”

Flores would be taken back home around three in the morning, sneak inside her house and take a hot bath. She would pray and cry while the water ran. The next day, she was called upon to do it all over again.

Flores was a victim of human trafficking.

The Department of Homeland Security website defines human trafficking as “modern-day form of slavery involving the illegal trade of people for exploitation or commercial gain.” It is the fastest growing crime in the U.S. and Ohio has the fifth highest trafficking rate among the states, according to the Ohio Department of Health. The average age a teen enters the sex trade in the U.S. is between the ages of 12 to 14.

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Theresa Flores was gone and nobody, her teachers nor her parents, noticed anything.

Her grades dropped drastically and she lost most of her friends.

Then one night, something different happened. She snuck out of her house through the same door and she stepped on the same grass she had been stepping on for two years, but the driver of the car was different.

They drove her far away from her home. She was drugged and tortured. She finally got to a nasty motel.

The trafficker pulled her hair and dragged her into a tiny motel room.

“There were so many men waiting for me that you couldn’t see the furniture,” said Flores.

She woke up at 5 a.m., naked. She ran to the bathroom and puked. She felt the cold seat of the toilet where her head was resting. She crawled on the floor putting her hands around her knees. And she cried.

She cried for each time her innocence was stolen from her. Every tear that fell from her eyes reminded her of every fist that violently touched her face and her soul.

“They didn’t have any intention of taking me home,” said Flores. “I was facing the fact that I was never going to see my home again.”

“What are you going to do now, Theresa?” she asked herself.

That is the moment when she realized that it was time to run away. Flores took her pajamas that were in the shower, soaking wet. She stumbled to the parking lot and walked to a tiny little restaurant next to the motel.

“I believe these are the times God sends you angels,” said Flores. “My angel came in the form of an old African American lady pouring coffee to homeless men.”

She asked Flores something that nobody ever asked her before.

“Can I help you honey?” said the lady.

“No, I am fine,” said Flores.

She didn’t believe her and called the police, who took her home.

The only thing that Flores hoped for while waiting inside the police car was that they would just drop her off and let her go. She wanted to forget about everything that just happened, but the police officer turned off the car and went down to her house.

Her parents were standing at the door of the house in their robes and they were not happy. They assumed their daughter was having a good time partying.

“I didn’t say anything because I needed to keep them alive,” said Flores.

The next day, Flores’ dog was killed as a reminder from her offenders. If she talked, her family would die.

The incidents occurred less than before, but it did not stop. Her traffickers found new ways to make her services available. Although her parents would be more alert about their daughter, it was not enough to realize the nightmare that she was going through.

Then, a miracle happened. Flores’ father was once again transferred to another state, Connecticut.

At the beginning of her senior year, Flores was thousands of miles away from her past.

Even though she was far away, her traumas would follow her for life. She suffered from depression and post-traumatic stress disorder. It was not until more than 20 years past that she finally decided to talk about what happened to her.

Today, Flores stands behind hundreds of podiums around the U.S. to share her story and spread awareness.

“Sometimes it is still hard to talk about. I relive it, but I see all the good that is does,” said Flores. “I know we’re saving girls. Somebody needs to talk and it is not easy, but it is worth it.”

Flores is the founder of S.O.A.P which stands for “Save Our Adolescents from Prostitution.” She goes around the U.S. and delivers soap to motels with the telephone number of the human trafficking hotline. She is author of the book “The slave across the street: A true story of how an American Teen survived the world of human trafficking.”

Next weekend, Flores and her team will be delivering soaps all around the U.S. because one of the highest events of human trafficking is around the corner, Super Bowl Sunday.

The goal of the S.O.A.P is to save all the Theresas around the United States.