Like a wounded dog, kicked one too many times by its sadistic master, her coal black eyes slide back and forth across the room as she tucks a lock of limp hair behind her ear.

Even when I pull a game of Monopoly out of a white plastic bag, she doesn’t glance over. Instead, she remains in the corner, twirling her hair around her finger and staring, between the rusted iron bars, down at the street below. I follow her gaze down to the dusty, narrow sidewalk where women with faces crinkled by the sun and fatigue crouch among their baskets of bananas and oranges. The airless room smells of human waste, sweat, and yesterday’s lunch. Beyond the sealed windows, the intermittent honking of horns and popping of firecrackers mingles with the crackly voice of a beautifully dressed host on the small TV overhead.

When I try again to catch the young girl’s eyes, her gaze drifts from the window, to the floor, to the other kids, and back out the window again. She turns her shoulders from me and folds in on herself, as if she wants to make herself small enough to disappear.

Even in a city like Cuzco, encircled by majestic mountains and flooded with tourists in their latest North Face jackets and hiking shoes, you don’t have to walk far to feel the energy shift and to witness some of the heavier realities of life in the developing world.

This beautiful, wounded young girl was most likely picked up off the street for prostitution. She can’t be more than 15 years old and she already knows a world full of more cruelty and anguish than most of us could ever imagine.

The pain in her eyes is palpable – intense enough to fill this tiny room with its two metal bunk beds, threadbare blankets, and scuffed green walls. I feel beyond inadequate with my Monopoly game and my fellow volunteer’s nail polish. We are here at the local police station, as part of an IVHQ Volunteer Placement, to spend time with the kids who have been picked up off the street. These kids are held in this tiny room until someone shows up for them or until the system decides what to do with them next. Our goal is to use games, art, and lessons to get their minds off their circumstances and help them pass the long hours in captivity.

Long after I leave my placement that afternoon, the young girl’s eyes haunt me. Sadly, this girl is just one of millions in cities all over the world. Cities in Latin America, Asia, Europe, Africa, and yes – cities in North America. Girls who mistake attention and sex for love because they don’t know what healthy love feels like. Girls who get pulled into a life of prostitution because their families and their communities have failed them. Girls who run away from orphanages because they want to get back to the street to make money again. Girls who want to get back to their pimps because they mistake control for genuine care.

Like many moments on this Adventure of Hope, my time in Peru has already left me incredibly humbled. I know many of you are tuned into organizations around the globe that empower young women. I would love you to share the names of some of these NGOs in the comments. Maybe we can inspire each other to do something for these girls both at home and around the world.

I’m grateful to IVHQ for the opportunity to be here in Cusco and to (in some miniscule way) show up for girls and boys like her. I am grateful for IVHQ’s local partner for ensuring volunteers come to the prison every day to spend time with these detained kids.

AND, I’m grateful to every single one of you who has contributed to this Adventure of Hope. All of you are here with me. Your support has allowed me to show up for cancer patients in Vietnam and Tanzania; orphans in Rwanda; disabled women in India; and now street kids in Peru. I appreciate your continued support and please know that whether it is a contribution of $10 or $500, every cent makes a difference. To see how much money we need to get back in the black, click here. To contribute to the Adventure of Hope, please use the CLOUDCIrcles box or the Paypal button on the top right of this page.

Life can be messy, complicated, and difficult but maybe we can continue to work together to impact one cancer patient; one young girl; or one person feeling alone and lost whether at home or around the world.

Here is what I keep learning: this defeated broken beautiful girl is you and you are her. She is no less deserving of safety, love, and comfort than any of us are.

Today my heart feels heavy and there are days on the road when I don’t think I can handle one more image of suffering. But, then I have a moment of deep connection with a child, a new friend, or a fellow volunteer and I remember I am here so I can share these stories with you. Even though the problems can seem overwhelming, I have to believe that together we can make a difference.