Chapter Four

Monsters were real.

They weren't under her bed. They weren't in the closet, either.

Instead, they were all around her.

They were in her father's office late at night when everyone else was sleeping and he made her go there.

They were in the warehouse on weekends, while her mom worked late, and he took her there to meet his friends.

Most of all, the monster was inside him.

She could see the monster in his eyes when he told her not to cry out, not to scream, not to fight or he'd kill her mother. He'd kill everyone she knew, and no one would know the truth.

He killed Sadie and got away with it.

He even bragged about it to her when she resisted. She knew he would kill her mother, like he threatened. Once, when she fought back, he'd put his hands around her neck and squeezed until she fainted. When she came to, he was leaning over her, his ugly face inches from hers, smiling that evil smile.

"I'll do it again, but the next time," he said, panting, his hot breath on her face. "I'll do it until you die, and you'll go straight to hell. If you die disobeying me, you'll burn in eternal hellfire. Do you want that?"

There were times she almost fought back just so he'd kill her and end all the pain, but she didn't. She was too afraid. She wanted to live. She wanted to tell her mother what he did, but his words would come back to scare her into silence those few times she was close to confessing.

He promised he'd kill her mother if she ever told.

He killed Sadie...

When Sadie didn't come out to play in the yard anymore, or at the playground, no one asked where she was. No one even wondered why Sadie was no longer around because no one knew who she was or even where she lived. Worst of all, no one cared.

The girl was haunted by that fact. One day Sadie was there. The next, she was gone, and no one asked where she was.

It was then the girl knew she had no hope of escaping the same fate. Nothing would change. Her father would kill her one day and no one would even know she was gone -- just like Sadie.

The girl, and that was how she thought of herself -- the girl -- because that was what they called her. Not her real name. Just 'Tell the girl to come over here. Tell the girl to bring more beer. Tell the girl to bend over.'

She didn't want to run away, because she'd be alone. She longed to tell her mother. She just wanted it to stop.

"Honey, what's wrong?" her mother asked. "Tell me. Why are you crying?"

She wiped her eyes. Could she tell her mother? Would she believe it? Would she say she was a liar, like he told her?

She was so tired of everything...

So, she told her mother, and like he said he would, her father killed her.

One day, she told her mother what was happening at night and on the weekends. The next day, her mother was gone. When the girl asked him where her mother was, he said that she was gone and was never coming back. It was then, she knew he'd killed her mother, too. Burying her body somewhere in the forest just like he did with Sadie.

Just like he'd do to her if she ever disobeyed him again.

"Now, it's just you and me," he said. "Just you and me."

That was when the girl started planning to run away.

She remembered what her mother had said. There was a place in Seattle where they didn't turn you away. A shelter run by the Sisters of Mercy. They would feed you and bathe you and clothe you.

That's where the girl would go.

Her mother had lived there for a while. Then, she lived on the streets and that was when her mother met her father and got pregnant. The girl would go and live there. She wouldn't tell them that her own mother was once one of theirs because then they'd know who she was. No one could ever know that.

If they did, he would find her.

And then she'd die.

So, one day when the girl got enough courage, when it got too much to bear, she decided to run away.


It turned out that she was right -- when she went missing, there were no search parties. No missing persons reports. No posters tacked to telephone poles with pictures of her face.

MISSING: HAVE YOU SEEN...

For the first few nights, she stayed in an old garage she found when wandering alone in the small village the few afternoons she was free in the summer.

In the mansion near the edge of town lived an old woman who never went out except to collect rainwater from a cistern at the side of her old two-story house with the wrap-around porch. The old woman used it to water her plants.

This, the girl knew because she'd watched from their yard, which was across the street. The girl knew she would have to sleep somewhere if she was going to make it to the highway and hitchhike to safety. The garage would do until she had enough courage to go and stick out her thumb, hoping for a ride to civilization.

The garage was dusty, with cobwebs in every corner. On one side of the garage sat an ancient car rusting to pieces -- a remnant from when the old woman was younger and actually drove. Now, the old woman was too old and never went anywhere. The small grocery store in town delivered whatever food she needed.

The girl admired the old woman. She was able to live by herself and care for the huge old mansion alone. No one made her do anything she didn't want. There were no monsters in her life. No father forcing her down on her knees to make him happy. No men in long black robes judging her performance. No handcuffs and gags to keep her quiet and trapped, in the correct position for inspection.

The girl envied the old woman and wanted to be just like her when she was old.

Free. Completely and wonderfully free. Rich enough to pay men to mow her lawn and deliver her food.

The girl made the plan to run away after a particularly tiring night when she'd been introduced to a new form of torture by her father. She'd decided it was too much. She was used to bruises. They were an inevitable consequence of what happened to her. But this new form of torture was too much to bear.

Already, the stitches were starting to itch. She had to be careful not to do anything requiring too much exertion or her stitches would pop, and she could bleed to death.

That's what her father said.

She knew she had to get out because if she didn't, she'd die one of the next times they played the game.

So, she hid in the garage for a few days, eating food from the old woman's garden, drinking at night from the hose, pulling a few carrots from the soil, some snap peas, even a zucchini. If the old woman noticed her vegetable garden had been raided, she didn't think to check the garage for the culprit.

The girl had taken some crackers and some beef jerky she found in the pantry at home. They'd kept her stomach from rumbling too loudly the first night but by the third day, she was ravenous, and she felt her wounds were healed enough to make it to the highway and hopefully, to freedom.

Whatever lay in store for her on the road couldn't be worse than what she faced at home.