Over the Years
The air was damp and thin, the space around me was limited, and the sight before me was nothing but darkness. I had absolutely no idea where I was, why I couldn’t move, or what had even happened to get me up to this point. I attempted to take some deep breaths - which was not very easy, considering the condition I was in - and tried to remember what had happened, and finally, it hit me.
“I can’t believe we’re finally going to get a dog! I have been waiting for FOREVER for this day.” “We know, sweetie. Your father and I aren’t actually the worst people ever, ya know.” I laughed when my mom said this; it wasn’t really funny, but it was just something my mom would say. “Man, I don’t know what it is today, but let me tell ya, it seems like nobody knows how to drive!” My dad was never one to have road rage, but today, he did. “Oh we’re almost there honey, just seven more minutes.” Those last seven minutes turned out to be the longest and last seven minutes of my life. “LOOK OUT!” My mom yelled at my dad to watch out for the yellow car headed our way, facing us, in our lane, driving at full speed. My dad had hit the brakes, the horn, and swerved the car, but the other car seemed unphased. I remember being so confused as to why someone could intentionally cause such a horrible accident. “IT’S MY DAUGHTER, SHE’S NOT BREATHING, YOU HAVE TO HELP US.” While I had heard my mom yelling at someone, I wasn’t sure who because at this point everything had faded to darkness and I was no longer at the scene of the accident.
“Oh my god. I’m dead. I’m dead. Oh my god.” I thought to myself the only possible explanation I had for this situation I was in. But then I sneezed. “OW!” I hit my head on some type of wood above me. “Wait a second,” I thought aloud, “I just sneezed, and hit my head, and felt it, and now I’m talking! I’m not dead! But then where the hell am I?!” At this point, I did the only thing I could think to do, bang, scream, and call for help. While I was almost positive that I was actually going to die here, wherever I was, much to my surprise, I heard what sound like someone digging into the ground with a shovel. That’s because it was someone digging into the ground with a shovel. And then it hit me for real. I was buried alive. They all thought I was dead. I sure hope these damn doctors have been fired, otherwise I’m taking them to court.
“AHHH!” I yelled in pain at the bright sunlight before my eyes and in fear of the middle-aged man with a shovel. “What’s happening?! Can you explain please? Who are you? Why are you here? Why do you have a shovel with you at a cemetery? Are you the one who did this to me? Where’s my family? Tell me something, PLEASE!” I spit out question after question to this man, and he simply stood there smirking.
“Good morning sunshine,” the man used a creepy tone, almost making me wish he would bury me back up again, “So happy to see you’ve finally come back to us...I was worried you’d be in that coma forever...in fact, I was the only who was worried.”
“What are you talking about? I was in a coma? So is that why everyone thought I was dead and even proceeded to bury me???” The man laughed and threw his head back with it.
“Bingo! We have a winner folks!”
“Sir, forgive me, but I was just buried alive for, I don’t even know how long, everyone I know probably thinks I’m dead, and I have absolutely no idea what is going on with you or who you are.”
“Why don’t you just keep quiet for some time and come with me?” The man extended his hand, I wasn’t sure whether to take it or not. I didn’t. Instead, I ran.
***
It’s been seven years since the soft hum of my mother’s voice has danced in my ears. It’s been seven years since the strong vision of my father has materialized before my eyes. It’s been seven years since I was buried alive, kidnapped, and changed forever.
***
Every morning is the same. I wake up on the cold, tile floor, attempt to break the chains from around my ankles, scream and cry for help, get silenced by the man who did this to me, wait for breakfast. I wouldn’t say I’ve gotten used to this routine, but after seven years, it’s safe to say that I have become accustomed to it. That being said, something about this morning was different. I could hear the TV, in what I assumed was the upstairs living room, along with the pitter patter of my kidnappers quick feet as he paced across the creaky, wood floors above. While I wasn’t able to make out what the TV was saying, I knew for a fact that it couldn’t be good. I decided that I was finally going to start talking after seven years, and this time, I was going to demand some answers.
The basement door opened and down came my kidnapper. “Here goes nothing,” I thought to myself “It’s now or never.” “Why am I here?” The question boomed from my mouth, with a lot more confidence than I had expected. My kidnapper looked back at me with shock; I had never spoken to him like this before.
“Why are you here? After seven years of torture to not only you, but your loved ones too, you have finally muscled up the courage to say something? Ha, you’re pathetic.” I gulped and instantly regretting opening my mouth. “Well, quite the funny question, if I do say so myself. You would think you would have known, considering the fact that you were there too.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Please just answer my question. I really don’t want anymore trouble. I don’t know why you’re doing this to me, I never did anything to you.”
“Little girl,” he threw his head back and laughed maniacally, “It’s so funny to hear you plead such lies to me and yourself. You and I both know just what is going on here.” I, in fact, did not. “December 23rd, 2004. The roads were icy and there were snowflakes coming down hard on car windshields. You, your mom, and twin brothers all sat as passengers while your father drove in the dangerous snow storm. The wind picked up and the snowflakes got bigger and heavier. I watched you all through my rearview mirror, while I checked on my little girl in her car seat right behind me. Suddenly, my sweet child was launched forwards, sending her through the windshield, all while sending me into the air bag. There in the street lay my child. Dead as can be. And it was all your fault.” I could remember the accident he was talking about, it was horrible, my family has lost my two baby twin brothers in this accident. It haunted my parents for years to come.
“I am terribly sorry for your loss,” although I truly couldn’t remember seeing a dead little girl, but I was young, so, “but don’t you believe that it really was all our fault, do you? I mean you really can’t trap me in here for one accident.
“You and your family took away what I loved most, and now it’s time for me to do the same. Your parents have simply not been able to move on with their lives after seven years of tragedy that follows them.” Now I was beginning I hear more voices, ones that sounded like they weren’t coming from the TV screen anymore.
“SAMUEL FOSTER! OPEN UP, WE KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE,” Considering what I’ve learned about this man over the years, I come to the conclusion that the only logical thought of who was on that other side of that door was an unhappy drug dealer. The voice spoke again, still loud, but a tone I couldn’t quite put my finger on. “And we know you have the girl.” Suddenly, I didn’t think it was an unhappy drug dealer on the other side of that door, but instead, I thought it hope on the other side of that door. I began to scream as loud as I could.
“Would you be quiet, you peasant! They’ll hear you!” Of course, I screamed even louder and I watch as my kidnapper frantically paced the area around him, tapping his head with his pointer finger.
“If you don’t open this door in 10 seconds, we’re breaking it down. We have a warrant.” I listened as they began to count; my kidnapper did not leave his spot. “Stand back!” With one swift bang, I heard the door hit the ground above my head and footsteps pound the floor. Finally, the basement door knob rattled.
“MOM! DAD!” I sobbed on sight. My heart was so happy it hurt. They tried their best to get to me, but they were stopped by the police next to them, no doubt in fear of what my kidnapper might do.
“I’m armed! Move one step closer and I’ll press the red button and poof! We’ll all say bye-bye to this little world.” The standing collection of us exchanged confused glances. There was no red button. The kidnapper was holding a pen.
“ Mr. Foster, drop your “weapon” and put your hands where we can see them. NOW.” Much to my surprise, he did exactly what was asked of him. But it didn’t take too long for my true kidnapper to come back. He proceeded to punch the cop. Although stunned for a second, the cop was hardly phased, and he had managed to grab my kidnapper and get him in handcuffs. My parents now rushed towards me.
“I knew we’d find you!”
“You’re alive, oh thank you God!” My parents talked and cried at my for what felt like eternity. I didn’t even mind my tear soaked shirt and pounding headache from crying, I was just so beyond happy to be back with my parents.
“Excuse me,” the cop’s hand brushed my shoulder for my attention and I turned around, “we just need to run some checks and tests on you to make sure everything is alright.” I shook my head and the cop help stand me up and remove the ankles chains that weighed me down. We ran through millions of tests, I could have sworn. At this point when looked over, there was my kidnapper, trapped behind the bars on the prision car. I watched as my life nearly flashed before my eyes. For seven years I was condemned to a life of hell, almost certain I would not make it out, but the longer I saw my kidnapper sit there under constraints, the longer I knew this was not a dream and I was finally free.
When I stepped outside, all of my senses tingled and I felt nature again. The sun hugged me in colors of yellow and orange rays. The blue sky stretched from side to side before my eyes. The green grass tickled my toes. The smell of a warm summer breeze entered my nose. I was going home.
***
It had been a few weeks now since I had been home and I had finally gotten my life back on track. It wasn’t until the letter cam that I was reminded of my last seven years. The letter was stamped “TO THE MILLER FAMILY. CONFIDENTIAL.” I knew there was only certain information that could possibly be inside of this. So there we sat, me, my mom, and my dad, all around the kitchen table, staring at the letter. The tension in the room cut be cut with a spoon at this point. Finally, I grabbed the envelope and tore it open. I read outloud.
“Dear Miller Family,
On behalf of the California Police Department, we are writing to you to inform you of the charges your daughter’s kidnapper holds. He had been placed into solitary confinement, but after six days of being there, at 6:00 pm on June 6th, he has managed to take his own life. Mr. Samuel Foster will never pose a threat to you or another being ever again. We feel it is necessary to inform you of the mental illness Mr. Samuel Foster was taken over by. Schizophrenia. We wish you the best as you continue to persevere after this traumatic experience. We are always just one phone call away.” I put the letter down let all the air out of my chest. No one spoke.
“He got what he deserved.” My father mumbled under his breath. And while I agreed with such a statement, I couldn’t seem push past the end of the letter. Schizophrenia. I had been tortured for seven years all because one man had a warped and false view on reality. All those years I spent trapped, for something that never even happened. I was right. My kidnapper didn’t have a daughter in the car. Nor did he ever have one. My kidnapper didn’t have a red button as he claimed, it really was a pen. Everything he ever did, all a figure of his imagination and I was the one to suffer through over all these years. I was glad he was dead.
The air was damp and thin, the space around me was limited, and the sight before me was nothing but darkness. I had absolutely no idea where I was, why I couldn’t move, or what had even happened to get me up to this point. I attempted to take some deep breaths - which was not very easy, considering the condition I was in - and tried to remember what had happened, and finally, it hit me.
“I can’t believe we’re finally going to get a dog! I have been waiting for FOREVER for this day.” “We know, sweetie. Your father and I aren’t actually the worst people ever, ya know.” I laughed when my mom said this; it wasn’t really funny, but it was just something my mom would say. “Man, I don’t know what it is today, but let me tell ya, it seems like nobody knows how to drive!” My dad was never one to have road rage, but today, he did. “Oh we’re almost there honey, just seven more minutes.” Those last seven minutes turned out to be the longest and last seven minutes of my life. “LOOK OUT!” My mom yelled at my dad to watch out for the yellow car headed our way, facing us, in our lane, driving at full speed. My dad had hit the brakes, the horn, and swerved the car, but the other car seemed unphased. I remember being so confused as to why someone could intentionally cause such a horrible accident. “IT’S MY DAUGHTER, SHE’S NOT BREATHING, YOU HAVE TO HELP US.” While I had heard my mom yelling at someone, I wasn’t sure who because at this point everything had faded to darkness and I was no longer at the scene of the accident.
“Oh my god. I’m dead. I’m dead. Oh my god.” I thought to myself the only possible explanation I had for this situation I was in. But then I sneezed. “OW!” I hit my head on some type of wood above me. “Wait a second,” I thought aloud, “I just sneezed, and hit my head, and felt it, and now I’m talking! I’m not dead! But then where the hell am I?!” At this point, I did the only thing I could think to do, bang, scream, and call for help. While I was almost positive that I was actually going to die here, wherever I was, much to my surprise, I heard what sound like someone digging into the ground with a shovel. That’s because it was someone digging into the ground with a shovel. And then it hit me for real. I was buried alive. They all thought I was dead. I sure hope these damn doctors have been fired, otherwise I’m taking them to court.
“AHHH!” I yelled in pain at the bright sunlight before my eyes and in fear of the middle-aged man with a shovel. “What’s happening?! Can you explain please? Who are you? Why are you here? Why do you have a shovel with you at a cemetery? Are you the one who did this to me? Where’s my family? Tell me something, PLEASE!” I spit out question after question to this man, and he simply stood there smirking.
“Good morning sunshine,” the man used a creepy tone, almost making me wish he would bury me back up again, “So happy to see you’ve finally come back to us...I was worried you’d be in that coma forever...in fact, I was the only who was worried.”
“What are you talking about? I was in a coma? So is that why everyone thought I was dead and even proceeded to bury me???” The man laughed and threw his head back with it.
“Bingo! We have a winner folks!”
“Sir, forgive me, but I was just buried alive for, I don’t even know how long, everyone I know probably thinks I’m dead, and I have absolutely no idea what is going on with you or who you are.”
“Why don’t you just keep quiet for some time and come with me?” The man extended his hand, I wasn’t sure whether to take it or not. I didn’t. Instead, I ran.
***
It’s been seven years since the soft hum of my mother’s voice has danced in my ears. It’s been seven years since the strong vision of my father has materialized before my eyes. It’s been seven years since I was buried alive, kidnapped, and changed forever.
***
Every morning is the same. I wake up on the cold, tile floor, attempt to break the chains from around my ankles, scream and cry for help, get silenced by the man who did this to me, wait for breakfast. I wouldn’t say I’ve gotten used to this routine, but after seven years, it’s safe to say that I have become accustomed to it. That being said, something about this morning was different. I could hear the TV, in what I assumed was the upstairs living room, along with the pitter patter of my kidnappers quick feet as he paced across the creaky, wood floors above. While I wasn’t able to make out what the TV was saying, I knew for a fact that it couldn’t be good. I decided that I was finally going to start talking after seven years, and this time, I was going to demand some answers.
The basement door opened and down came my kidnapper. “Here goes nothing,” I thought to myself “It’s now or never.” “Why am I here?” The question boomed from my mouth, with a lot more confidence than I had expected. My kidnapper looked back at me with shock; I had never spoken to him like this before.
“Why are you here? After seven years of torture to not only you, but your loved ones too, you have finally muscled up the courage to say something? Ha, you’re pathetic.” I gulped and instantly regretting opening my mouth. “Well, quite the funny question, if I do say so myself. You would think you would have known, considering the fact that you were there too.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Please just answer my question. I really don’t want anymore trouble. I don’t know why you’re doing this to me, I never did anything to you.”
“Little girl,” he threw his head back and laughed maniacally, “It’s so funny to hear you plead such lies to me and yourself. You and I both know just what is going on here.” I, in fact, did not. “December 23rd, 2004. The roads were icy and there were snowflakes coming down hard on car windshields. You, your mom, and twin brothers all sat as passengers while your father drove in the dangerous snow storm. The wind picked up and the snowflakes got bigger and heavier. I watched you all through my rearview mirror, while I checked on my little girl in her car seat right behind me. Suddenly, my sweet child was launched forwards, sending her through the windshield, all while sending me into the air bag. There in the street lay my child. Dead as can be. And it was all your fault.” I could remember the accident he was talking about, it was horrible, my family has lost my two baby twin brothers in this accident. It haunted my parents for years to come.
“I am terribly sorry for your loss,” although I truly couldn’t remember seeing a dead little girl, but I was young, so, “but don’t you believe that it really was all our fault, do you? I mean you really can’t trap me in here for one accident.
“You and your family took away what I loved most, and now it’s time for me to do the same. Your parents have simply not been able to move on with their lives after seven years of tragedy that follows them.” Now I was beginning I hear more voices, ones that sounded like they weren’t coming from the TV screen anymore.
“SAMUEL FOSTER! OPEN UP, WE KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE,” Considering what I’ve learned about this man over the years, I come to the conclusion that the only logical thought of who was on that other side of that door was an unhappy drug dealer. The voice spoke again, still loud, but a tone I couldn’t quite put my finger on. “And we know you have the girl.” Suddenly, I didn’t think it was an unhappy drug dealer on the other side of that door, but instead, I thought it hope on the other side of that door. I began to scream as loud as I could.
“Would you be quiet, you peasant! They’ll hear you!” Of course, I screamed even louder and I watch as my kidnapper frantically paced the area around him, tapping his head with his pointer finger.
“If you don’t open this door in 10 seconds, we’re breaking it down. We have a warrant.” I listened as they began to count; my kidnapper did not leave his spot. “Stand back!” With one swift bang, I heard the door hit the ground above my head and footsteps pound the floor. Finally, the basement door knob rattled.
“MOM! DAD!” I sobbed on sight. My heart was so happy it hurt. They tried their best to get to me, but they were stopped by the police next to them, no doubt in fear of what my kidnapper might do.
“I’m armed! Move one step closer and I’ll press the red button and poof! We’ll all say bye-bye to this little world.” The standing collection of us exchanged confused glances. There was no red button. The kidnapper was holding a pen.
“ Mr. Foster, drop your “weapon” and put your hands where we can see them. NOW.” Much to my surprise, he did exactly what was asked of him. But it didn’t take too long for my true kidnapper to come back. He proceeded to punch the cop. Although stunned for a second, the cop was hardly phased, and he had managed to grab my kidnapper and get him in handcuffs. My parents now rushed towards me.
“I knew we’d find you!”
“You’re alive, oh thank you God!” My parents talked and cried at my for what felt like eternity. I didn’t even mind my tear soaked shirt and pounding headache from crying, I was just so beyond happy to be back with my parents.
“Excuse me,” the cop’s hand brushed my shoulder for my attention and I turned around, “we just need to run some checks and tests on you to make sure everything is alright.” I shook my head and the cop help stand me up and remove the ankles chains that weighed me down. We ran through millions of tests, I could have sworn. At this point when looked over, there was my kidnapper, trapped behind the bars on the prision car. I watched as my life nearly flashed before my eyes. For seven years I was condemned to a life of hell, almost certain I would not make it out, but the longer I saw my kidnapper sit there under constraints, the longer I knew this was not a dream and I was finally free.
When I stepped outside, all of my senses tingled and I felt nature again. The sun hugged me in colors of yellow and orange rays. The blue sky stretched from side to side before my eyes. The green grass tickled my toes. The smell of a warm summer breeze entered my nose. I was going home.
***
It had been a few weeks now since I had been home and I had finally gotten my life back on track. It wasn’t until the letter cam that I was reminded of my last seven years. The letter was stamped “TO THE MILLER FAMILY. CONFIDENTIAL.” I knew there was only certain information that could possibly be inside of this. So there we sat, me, my mom, and my dad, all around the kitchen table, staring at the letter. The tension in the room cut be cut with a spoon at this point. Finally, I grabbed the envelope and tore it open. I read outloud.
“Dear Miller Family,
On behalf of the California Police Department, we are writing to you to inform you of the charges your daughter’s kidnapper holds. He had been placed into solitary confinement, but after six days of being there, at 6:00 pm on June 6th, he has managed to take his own life. Mr. Samuel Foster will never pose a threat to you or another being ever again. We feel it is necessary to inform you of the mental illness Mr. Samuel Foster was taken over by. Schizophrenia. We wish you the best as you continue to persevere after this traumatic experience. We are always just one phone call away.” I put the letter down let all the air out of my chest. No one spoke.
“He got what he deserved.” My father mumbled under his breath. And while I agreed with such a statement, I couldn’t seem push past the end of the letter. Schizophrenia. I had been tortured for seven years all because one man had a warped and false view on reality. All those years I spent trapped, for something that never even happened. I was right. My kidnapper didn’t have a daughter in the car. Nor did he ever have one. My kidnapper didn’t have a red button as he claimed, it really was a pen. Everything he ever did, all a figure of his imagination and I was the one to suffer through over all these years. I was glad he was dead.