Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: ESCAPE (03/04/21)
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TITLE: Held Captive | Previous Challenge Entry
By Joanney Uthe
03/11/21 -
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My insides churn every time I tell him that lie. But the last several months cannot be for naught. It is time.
“Jimmy, can I ask just one favor? I think I owe it to my parents to let them know that I’m okay. Tell them that my disappearance three years ago was voluntary and that I am choosing to stay here with you.” Bile rose in my mouth just asking, even moreso as I await his response.
I’m so glad it worked. I waited an hour into the drive to ask to stop for a bathroom break. While he pumped gas, I went into the station and out the back door. I knew the area well enough to know there was a payphone a few blocks away and that Jimmy couldn’t see me leave.
“9-1-1 What is your emergency?
“This is Brenda Dunwood. I went missing 3 years ago. The guy who took me is pumping gas in an older, blue Mercury Grand Marquis at the gas station on the corner of Washington and Lincoln. He is white, with brown curly hair. Probably about 6 feet tall. His name is Jimmy Buffoon. He has held me and 5 other girls captive. Two of them died, the other two are locked in his basement. Please help.”
After repeating the information slower, the operator insured me that help was on the way. I gave her my location. Soon an officer came by to pick me up and take my statement. Once they had Jimmy arrested and secured, they had me show them where the other two girls were held in their cages in Jimmy’s basement. I know Julie and Laura thought I was a traitor, but I couldn’t tell them my plan until it worked out. I’m so glad they forgave me.
It has been twenty-five years since our escape. Julie, Laura, and I remained friends until Julie died of breast cancer last year. Laura and I meet frequently, but the subject of Jimmy never comes up. Except with an occasional, “Thank you.” accompanied by a hand squeeze or extra strong hug.
***
Stephanie put down the book. Stories like this reminded her that she wasn’t really a hostage in her father’s home, even if it felt like it. Other teens were allowed to go to the movies or out for pizza with their friends on a regular basis. Stephanie could count on one hand the number of movies she had seen in a theater. And that was more than the number of friends whose houses she had been allowed to visit. If she rolled down the window to say “hi” to someone while stopped at a stop sign, her dad knew about it by the time she got home. She would be scolded for not coming straight home.
“It is about time you finished your book. You have been reading for two hours. You still have chores to do, you know.” Her father’s voice brought her back to reality. “When is your book report due?.”
“The day after tomorrow. I can write the report tomorrow night if I don’t get it done in study hall.” Stephanie inwardly smiled as she thought about her agreement with her English teacher. While the class requirements were two book reports a semester, Mrs. Johnson agreed to let her hand one in, graded for Dad’s sake, every two weeks. It gave her permission to escape into a book, Otherwise, reading was considered a waste of time in her home. There were too many chores to do.
“Good, because you will finish all of your chores before you go to bed, and it is already late.” Her father never wavered on his expectations.
“That’s the only homework I had. I’ll do the dishes and then start the floors.”
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