Every month in our enewsletter we are featuring the story of Jasmine, one of the girls at the center. We have changed her name and some of the details which might identify her, just for her own privacy.

If you have missed any of the newsletters, here is your chance to catch up.

Newsletter installment 1 — November 2011

The first time he crept into her bed and touched her, she was too young to understand the magnitude of his crime. She was too young to understand that what would follow in the ensuing years--the drug use, the promiscuity, the feelings of worthlessness, and inability to trust--could all be traced back to that one fateful night. But back then she just accepted this injustice as the latest in a series of misfortunes that had befallen her.

he never did like her step-father. Not since the first time she was informed that he would be a part of their lives. That day her mother told Jasmine* that their lot in life would change for the better because this seemingly kind, loving man had generously opened his heart and life to them. The "them" was why Jasmine was told she and her younger sister Laleh, now 15, and her brother Ali, 12, should feel especially grateful.  Jasmine's biological father passed away when she was very young, leaving her uneducated, unskilled mother with the financial burden of providing for three children.  Subsequent suitors had been unwilling to marry a widow with children, but Jasmine's mom refused to separate her family. So her step-father offered her mother the option of a sigheh, or temporary marriage.  With this marriage came financial security, but also dependence.

Her step-father won't allow her mother to work. He also has the right to terminate the temporary marriage at his discretion.  And so the physical, sexual, and mental abuse is allowed to continue because without the step-father, Jasmine, her mother, and her two siblings will be on the streets. Without his money, they won't be able to eat. Without his money, they won't be able to have the bare necessities. And so one night of abuse turned into one week, one month, one year. And soon thirteen years had passed. Thirteen years of systematic and endemic abuse.

Jasmine long ago accepted her fate, but she still carries great guilt that she could not protect her younger sister Laleh from falling victim to the same darkness. Yes, he got to her too.  To make matters worse, there is the issue of her half-brother. The 'chosen one' in the eyes of her step-father. The boy with the vulgar mouth as Jasmine sees him since all he has ever directed at her is anger and insults.  And so Jasmine contemplated her options, few as they were, and Jasmine made her choice. Jasmine ran away.

In the next newsletter Jasmine will tell us what happened when she ran away and how life got much worse before it got better.

Newsletter Installment 2 — January 2012

When you're a teenager, rationale thinking isn't your best friend. Decisions tend to be rash, and often turn out to be ill conceived.  Jasmine's decision to run away was no different.  But who could blame her, really? Even if she had weighed her options, how many options did she really have? She does not have a nuclear family to protect and love her, and her extended family are as close to her as a stranger in the street. As Jasmine saw it, on a basic, biological level, she had two options: fight or flight. She'd been fighting her whole life to no avail, so it was time to try a different approach.

There wasn't much time to pack, and she could only carry what she could fit in her knapsack: a tee-shirt, a sweater, a few pairs of underwear, the equivalent of three U.S. dollars, some candy, a pair of sandals, and a picture of herself with her mom and siblings. She figured the best time to leave was during the day.  With her step-father out of the house and her mother out on a food run, she seized the moment.

The first hour away from home wasn't bad. In fact, it felt nice to be gone. The weather was cooperating, so Jasmine found a nearby bench and took in the collective sights and sounds of the neighborhood.  She didn't have a concrete plan, but Tehran seemed just as good a place as any, so she walked due North. The next few hours passed just as easily. Hunger set in, but that was no problem. Not yet anyway. She unrolled one of the candy wrappers and popped the treat into her mouth. "Why didn't I think of running away sooner?" Jasmine remembers telling herself.  Because, as it turns out, hard candy can only keep the hunger at bay for so long. And the night sky loses its beauty fairly quickly when you're clutching to yourself for warmth, and sleep doesn't come easily because danger lurks all around.

But Jasmine wasn't there yet. For now, she was basking in the glow of her newfound freedom.  Sure, sometimes her thoughts would turn to her younger brother and sister. And sure, sometimes doubt and panic and fear crept in, but she learned to cast those feelings aside. After all, if no one cared about her well-being, why should she care about the well-being of others? Jasmine had seen just how cold and cruel the world can be, and as far as she was concerned, it was every man for himself.