I follow the man. I
don’t have a choice. There is nowhere
to run. There is nowhere to hide. I have no idea where I am.
Everything is turned upside down. All I can do is wait for my
mom to come and find me. I
wish I could be back at home
right now. I
would even like
to hear a
criticism from my
stepdad Carl;
anything familiar would be
okay. Anywhere
other than being
here with this stranger
that has hurt me
with the stun gun.
When we arrive at the bathroom in
this
stranger’s house, he closes and locks the door. The shower
is running and the strange man says that he wants me to
take my clothes off. No, I
say! Why does he want me to take
my clothes off?
I am very self-conscious of my
body. The
man says if I do
not do it myself, he will do it for
me. I
am
too scared to move,
my body is shaking, so I do
what is
easy: I just stand
there. He pulls down my pants and takes
off my shirt. I am
naked and very embarrassed. He stuffs all
my clothes, shoes,
and backpack in a bag. He
doesn’t
notice the tiny ring on my pinkie. I am relieved. I was afraid
he would take that, too. He takes off his clothes and I try not
to look. He asks if
I have ever seen a naked man
before
and I answer no. He
says that’s hard to believe at my age. I
have never seen a naked man before and know that I ’m not
supposed to look. The strange man tells me to look at him. I
glance real quickly and want to start laughing in spite of
my
fearfulness. His private part
looks so funny.
In spite of
myself, I smile,
sometimes I laugh when I ’m nervous;
I don’t
mean to, it
just comes out. The man says
to touch it. I
t is
small and squishy.
The man says to make
it grow. In my
mind I think this man
is crazy. This is the strangest weirdest
man on the
planet! I do not want
to touch his private part,
but the man insists,
so I hold
it in my hand. I t
is soft and
paler than the
skin around it. He
says that’s enough
and
tells me to get into the shower. I want to resist, but the man
pushes me into the shower. He gets in the shower, too. He
tells me to wash up
and hands me the soap. I
want to be
asleep in my
own bed not
here in the
shower with this
strange man. I do as
he tells me, not knowing what else to
do. He then asks
me if
I have ever shaved my underarms
and vagina. I say
no, I
haven’t. I think
to myself, this man
wants me to do the exact thing that I have wanted to ask my
mom if I can do, but
why does he want me to do it in front of
him? My upcoming field
trip was going to
be to a water
park and I had been
wanting to ask my mom if it was okay if
I could shave
my armpits and
around my legs.
I was
embarrassed to be
seen with all that hair, but I also
didn’t
know how to ask my
mom. The night before, I remember
going to her bedroom wanting to ask her “the question.” But
instead I just sat
there and never asked. I wonder what my
mom would have said if I
had asked her “the question” last night.
Now I am with
this stranger who is asking me
strange
questions and all
I can think
about is my mom. My mom
must be worried. Has anyone told my mom that I was taken
by some stranger? How will she find me? The man shaves
my armpits and legs and then he says he’s going to shave
my vagina hair. Why? I
think to myself. When he’s done, he
says I can
get out of
the shower. I
feel like I
am in a
nightmare that I
have no control
over. Silent tears
start
spilling over my cheeks. They feel hot against my cold skin.
I start to
shiver. I am
so cold. I
try to stop
the tears. I
tell
myself I must be brave. I t
feels like my life
is not my own
anymore. My whole
body feels heavy and
I just want
to
collapse. This cannot be real, I tell myself. I t’s only a dream.
I will soon wake
up in my own bed. The man hands me a
towel. I gladly wrap myself in
it. I t feels warm
and safe. I
want to bury my head in the towel. The feeling of safety the
towel creates brings
memories of when
my mom would
wrap me up after my baths—the floodgate in me opens and
my silent tears become giant sobs. The man looks like he
doesn’t know how to respond; he tells me to calm down and
be quiet, that
he is not going to do anything more today.
The man takes me in his arms and offers comfort. I do not
want comfort from this awful man, but there is no one else
here and I reluctantly
lean into what comfort he gives.
Up
until now I have not
cried one time. Only on the inside. Now I
feel like a rabbit being comforted by a lion. I am so scared.
My tears
continue to run down my cheeks; I
can feel them
wet and warm.
They once again
become silent tears
running down my face into nothingness. The man is saying
things, but I ’m
not listening. The man
speaks again in a
louder voice, I
become afraid because his
voice is
stronger; I make an effort to
listen. He says he’s going to
take me somewhere else and that I must be very quiet or I
will get in trouble; if I ’m quiet and a good girl,
everything will
be fine. I
ask him if
I can put
my clothes back
on. He
chuckles and says no.
I ask him when I can
go home. He
says he doesn’t know but he will work on it. I say my family
doesn’t have a lot of money, but they would pay a ransom to
get me back. He looks at me and smiles and says, really? I
said he just needs to let my mom know where I am. He just
stares at me.
I walk in front of
him down the small flight of stairs to the
downstairs porch. Once again he puts the blanket on me. I
have nothing on
but the towel
and the blanket
now. My
backpack is gone.
My clothes are
gone. My shoes
are
gone. All I have is
the tiny butterfly ring on my pinkie that my
mom gave me. I have
nothing but this stranger and my feet
to guide me.
The first thing
I feel is
the hardness of
concrete. Then my
feet feel the
tickling cold sensation
of
wet grass. I can’t
see my feet because he is holding me by
my neck and my
head can’t go
down. But I can
feel the
ground and I
can hear a
train. I think
to myself I
must
remember that there
is a train
nearby so that when
I am
found I can
tell whoever finds
me that I
was being held
somewhere where I can
hear a train. The next thing my feet
feel are sticks
or some kind
of small branches
and dirt.
Some are pointy and sharp, and I can also feel rocks which
hurt my feet.
I try to tiptoe, but
it’s hard because
he is
leading the way and walks very rapidly. The rocks pass and
now I feel we are
back on hard cold concrete. I hear a
gate
or fence being
pushed open and
closed behind us. We
walk a little further and
I hear him fiddling with something
that rattles and jingles. I t sounds like a lock. I briefly wonder
where the other
person from the
car is. I
feel teeny tiny
pebbles on my feet. He
tells me to watch my step,
that I
need to step
up to the
step in front
of me. I miss
a little
because I can’t see
it, but he has my arm, so I don’t
fall. I
make the step up and feel hard carpet on the bottom of my
feet now. Not the soft kind but the low-to-the-ground kind.
I
hear the door shut
behind me. He leads me a little
further
into this new room.
Then we enter another door. He takes
the blanket off my head, and
I see a bunch of blankets on
the floor. Like what I
used to sleep on when we moved into
Carl’s apartment. I t
only had one bedroom, so Carl said I
could make a “pallet”
in the living
room. That’s what
he
called putting an
egg-crate mattress with
blankets on the
floor. This looks like that minus the egg-crate mattress. He
says I can sleep
there. All of a sudden I realize how
tired I
am. I feel
like I can
barely stand up.
My whole body
is
shaking from head to toe. He says he will be back later and
he wants me to
stay in here and to be quiet. He says the
door is locked
and reminds me of
the dogs outside
that
don’t like trespassers
and says to
them I would
be a
trespasser. He says he has to put handcuffs on me, but that
they have fur on them so they won’t hurt too much. I shake
my head no and say that I
won’t try to get away. He says he
has to because he doesn’t trust me yet. He says to put my
hands behind my back.
I continue to
sit on the
floor. He
bends down and turns my body so he can put the cuffs on
me. I can feel the
cold metal and the soft fur. I don’t like
the
way the cuffs feel heavy on my wrists. He helps me to lie
down on my side. I
t is not comfortable to lay
on your side
with your hands behind your back. He says he will be back
later to check on me and bring me something to eat. Then
he is gone and I can
hear the
lock being put back on the
door. The tears start again, softly at first then my silent
sobs
rack my body. I cry
myself to sleep alone.
Reflection
T o this day when I
close my eyes and think back, I
can
still hear the sound of that lock. I can hear the squeak of the
big, thick soundproof
door closing me
in. I t gives
me a
strange feeling in the pit of my stomach when I think of the
many long hours I
spent in that room all alone.
Today I sometimes
struggle with feelings of
loneliness
even when I am not
alone. I think this feeling began in
that
room Phillip put
me in. Hours
turned into days,
days to
weeks, and weeks to months and then years. I have spent a
lifetime alone, or so it seems to me sometimes.
I have gained a lot
of freedom this past year. Being with
my family and meeting
new friends and reuniting with old
has been a dream
come true. People and
animals keep
the loneliness away. I
know the feeling of loneliness is just
in my head because I
am not alone, but it still creeps back
at times. I do enjoy
time to myself. I love to read and write
and spend time
with my pets.
I don’t always
mind the
feeling of loneliness; it has given me the time to know who
I
am. However, my
mind pulls me
back to those
days of
confinement and I
feel myself needing to
call a friend
or
make a plan
for lunch—anything to
not be alone.
I am
working through these
feelings. I enjoy
life so much more
now, and I try hard
to appreciate each and every day, but
deep down I am still
afraid it will be taken away.
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