My Story (24 page)

Mitchell came out of the Altar of Immanuel with his new clothes on. He had cleaned himself up as best as he could, tying his hair into a ponytail and twisting his beard into a braid that was wrapped right up to his chin.

I watched as he checked his clothes. Then he pulled the blanket back and walked out of the camp.

All day long, I waited for him to come back. My mind was in a panic, horrible thoughts racing through my brain: What will I do if he comes back with another young girl? What will I do when he tries to rape her? Will I be able to stop him? Will I be able to stand up to him and Barzee? Will the girl trust me? Will we be able to escape together?

Then I had the most sickening thought of all: What if I don’t do anything? What if I just step aside and let him do to her what he did to me?

I couldn’t stop the horrible thoughts going through my mind. By the time the sun went down, I was so sick with worry and lack of food that I almost didn’t have the strength to stand.

A couple hours after sunset, we finally heard the sound of someone winding through the fire swamp. The blankets were pushed aside and Mitchell was standing there.

I immediately recognized the smug look on his face.

He sat down to tell his story.

“I got to El Cajon and headed to the Mormon chapel. To my disappointment, the first congregation I went to was a Spanish-speaking group. And there were no young girls among them anyway. So I waited around until the next congregation came into the building.” Mormon congregations are able to share the same buildings by starting their worship services at different times. “I went into the church and kind of looked around, like I was lost and lonely. Some people came up to talk to me. They invited me to the men’s study group. All through the lesson, I almost had to laugh. They were treating me like I didn’t know anything, when I am the Davidic king! The Lord’s prophet here on Earth! What did they think they could teach me?

“Once that was over, I headed with the rest of the crowd to Sunday school, where the lesson was on Daniel in the lion’s den. The silly little Mormon missionaries kept trying to pull me out of Sunday school to attend their special class but I told them I wanted to keep learning about Daniel. Those young fools. What do they know about anything?

“I do think, however, that the lesson was inspired. Is there any doubt that I was just like Daniel in the lion’s den? There I was, all of these wicked souls around me, all of these wicked and nasty people who would have torn me apart had they known what I intended to do to one of their children.

“Finally, we went in to sacrament meeting. But again, I was disappointed. There were no acceptable young girls in sight! I started to think that maybe it was not the time yet. Maybe the Lord was just testing my faithfulness. Maybe it was a test like Abraham and Isaac.

“After the meeting was over, I was walking through the parking lot when a car pulled over and the window rolled down. A man who had sat by me in one of the meetings stuck his head out and invited me to come home to have dinner with his family. You should have seen the meal. It was beautiful! Chicken covered in almonds and sauce, green beans, mashed potatoes, and dessert!”

Mitchell stopped to look at us and gloat. He licked his lips for effect. “It was delicious,” he said.

I turned and looked at Barzee. She was furious. And so was I.

Here we were, trapped in the fire swamp for weeks, sitting on buckets and homemade chairs, surrounded by filthy, smelly blankets and creepy overhanging trees. We had not eaten all day. We’d been eating poorly for months. The thought of a home-cooked meal sounded like a miracle to us. Barzee swallowed her anger and neither of us said anything.

Mitchell went on in his self-righteous voice, the voice he used after he had just talked to God. “I learned that they have a daughter. She will be my next wife.”

Barzee stared at him in rage. “You ate without bringing us any food?” she hissed.

I shook my head at the bitter irony. Her husband had just told her that he had found another wife, and the only thing that she could think about was the fact that he had eaten without bringing her any food.

Mitchell looked at the ground in fake humility. “The Lord blesses those of us who are faithful. And because I was faithful, He revealed that their daughter was to be my next wife. Then, after I had received this revelation, the Lord gave me His approval by providing a sumptuous feast.”

Barzee lifted her fist and cried, “Do you think nothing of me? You go out and stuff your face full of food and then come back and gloat about how good it was when you know I haven’t eaten anything all day. I had nothing to eat yesterday! That’s two days without food. We’ve been eating like mice for months now.
And you gloat because you got a home-cooked meal!
”

Mitchell smiled and moved toward her. He was so used to manipulating her, and she was so willing to be manipulated, that he knew exactly what to say. “Hephzibah, I love you. I always think of you. But the Lord has placed a heavy mantle upon me, even through my weaknesses. But then the Lord, in His great bounty, blesses me because He knows that I struggle under this great burden. To lighten my heavy load, He bestows great gifts upon me. The feast that I have eaten is one of those gifts. But it was also a sign that I have chosen correctly. All of these things were signs from God. It was like when the angel came to Joseph and told him that Mary was a beloved virgin and that he should still wed her.”

Listening to him, I wanted to puke.
Blagh!
was the only thought that was going through my head.

After he had calmed Barzee, and after she had composed herself again, they pulled out their handmade calendar and started to go through the days, seeking revelation as to when he should “go forth” again.

They talked for a few minutes and then Mitchell announced, “January fourth.”

*

They spent the next few weeks piling more branches and brush around our camp to conceal us a little better, obtaining an egg-carton case for the victim to sleep on and a few other things that were needed to get ready for the new wife. I wondered if he was going to cable her up like he had done to me, but Mitchell explained that he had reached the next level of faith and righteousness. Having reached this plateau of virtue, he’d be able to keep her in the camp by his pure force of will.

I was left out of the preparations. Clearly, they didn’t trust me. Which made me very happy. No way was I going to help them. No way was I going to be a part of this. I would have felt like a cannibal preparing the fire for cooking their next meal if I had been forced to help them in their preparations for this despicable act.

Mitchell spent most of the next few weeks preparing for his new captive. It was all he thought about, all he talked about, the only thing on his mind. It drove me crazy how he always referred to her as his new wife.
She isn’t a wife, she is a casualty!
I wanted to scream. Watching him, I was reminded again that the evil inside him would never be satisfied. He was fire. There was no water. As long as he was living, he would always want more. Someone new. Someone younger. Someone more beautiful.

December rolled along and pretty soon it was almost Christmas. For being such deeply religious people, Mitchell and Barzee didn’t seem that excited about the birth of Jesus Christ. They did, however, view it as another chance for a good meal.

Christmas morning dawned cold and gray. Mitchell knew there’d be lots of people lined up for Christmas dinner, so we headed down to San Diego early. After stepping off the metro, we walked to the large convention center. It looked like every homeless person in the city had come for Christmas dinner. The line stretched out of the building and down the block. We got in line and waited. Thinking of the food, my stomach started growling. I was weak from hunger. I had been hungry since our arrival in California.

It never did warm up, and by the time we got into the building I was tired and cold. We continued moving along the line and eventually ended up in a large convention hall. We were greeted by one of the volunteers, who told us to sit down at one of the long tables. Looking around, I realized that most of the helpers were young women, many of them about my age. It was one of those moments that really struck me, sending a pain into my heart. What has happened to me? I thought. What has happened to my life? That should be me! I should be one of those girls who are serving the food, not sitting here at the table, waiting to be served. I’m not really homeless! I have a family. They love me. They miss me! They want me back!

I was glad that I had on my veil, for it helped to hide the tear that was sliding down my cheek.

A couple of the young women brought us our food. I was so hungry. I was so grateful. It was the best thing I had eaten since our homeless Thanksgiving meal. I ate until I was full, then watched Mitchell wolf his food down. He cleaned off his plate, scooping up every drop of gravy, then asked for more. I was kind of embarrassed, but Mitchell didn’t care.

After dinner, we started walking around downtown. The streets were almost deserted and we didn’t really have anywhere to go. I didn’t care. I was just grateful to be out of the fire swamp. Rounding a corner, a young black man came up to us. “Merry Christmas!” he said as he handed each of us a small, handheld radio. Mine was pink with matching headphones. He smiled at me, then walked away. I looked down at my radio. I couldn’t believe it! I thought it was the best present I had ever been given. Nearly overcome with joy, I put the earphones in my ears and turned the dial, searching for some music that I would recognize, something that would connect me to my former life.

I found a station that was playing Christmas carols: Karen Carpenter’s “Merry Christmas Darling” and then “Winter Wonderland.” Both of the songs reminded me of my mom.

Listening to the holiday music, I realized that the seasons had changed without me. The world had gone on. Things had changed. My school friends had gone on without me. Life had continued on without me. But still, I was so happy to have the music. I wanted to sing along, but I knew I couldn’t. Mitchell would hate that. So I listened and enjoyed in silence.

Then I heard Mitchell’s voice above the sound of the music in my headphones. “The world is so wicked!” He spoke so loudly that I couldn’t tune him out. “The world is so wicked. And Hollywood is the worst. Singers and movies stars are the greatest tool of the devil. We must learn to tune them out. Tune them out of our lives. Out of our ears. We must learn to keep ourselves pure from their evil influence. How can we put God in our hearts if we put the devil in our ears?”

I tried desperately to ignore him. I knew he was talking to me but I didn’t care. It was Christmas music, for heaven’s sake! How evil could that be?

He moved closer to me and raised his voice. “Sure, their songs are easy and they may seem to make us happy, but they will grease our way to hell! They will kill and defile us! They will bring evil into our hearts. We have to deny them, don’t we, Shearjashub?”

On and on he went. It was like listening to fingernails scratching down a chalkboard. He wouldn’t shut up. He was like a whiny preacher intent on saving a sinful soul.

“Those who enjoy the sounds of Hollywood are enjoying the sounds of hell.”

He jumped ahead of me to stand in my way, staring at me and not letting me pass. I returned his hard gaze, refusing to look away. For a moment, there was an unseen battle between us, a battle of souls and will.

You will do as I tell you!
his eyes seemed to say.

I stared back at him.
I will do it for now, but not forever. One day I will defeat you. One day, I’m going to win!

He seemed to grow a little darker, his lips tighter, his shoulders square
. I will always be the master. You will always be the slave.

I dared to defy him only a moment longer before I had to look away.

I closed my eyes in sadness and frustration. As much as I wanted to just listen to the music, it wasn’t worth it. As much as I wanted to hear the beautiful sounds and enjoy the wonderful spirit that the songs of Christmas brought, I knew it was impossible. Mitchell wasn’t going to let me. He was going to make it more miserable to have the music than to not have it now. There was only one way to make him stop.

I took the headphones off and threw the radio away.

Mitchell watched me, then smiled an evil grin. We walked half a block in silence, then he took out his own radio, put the earphones in his ears, and started listening to the same music that I had been listening to.

I wanted to scream in frustration. I felt so betrayed. I felt so cheated. Barzee only laughed at me. She thought that I was such a fool. But at least Mitchell was not talking any longer.

We continued walking around San Diego. A couple blocks later, I saw a young man about my age. He was wearing a long-sleeved striped shirt, khaki shorts, and flip-flops. He wore dark sunglasses and had light-brown hair.

I watched him for a moment. (That was the only good thing about having to wear the veil; no one could tell if you were looking at them.) As I watched, I started thinking. I had never had a boyfriend. I had hardly even talked to boys. And though I was extremely shy, I had always looked forward to dating and having boyfriends. Like all young girls, I had dreamed of getting a new outfit and getting all dolled-up with my hair in curls and having makeup on! How exciting it would be to have a boy walk up to the front door with a bouquet of flowers just for me!

What if … what if …
kept running through my mind.

About that time, we walked past a shop called Hustler. Mitchell tried the door, but it was locked. Disappointed, he turned and led us back to the fire swamp.

Mitchell was nothing if not bold. I was constantly amazed by how brazen he was about the next kidnapping he was planning. He showed not a moment of fear or hesitation. If he ever thought he might get caught, he never showed it. And why should he? He had taken me. He’d been able to hide me just a few miles from my home. He’d been able to manipulate and lie his way out of every situation. Nothing in his experience gave him much reason to be afraid.