The Great Escape

Chapter 8

The Great Escape

My brother gasped seeing me standing in the room as I quickly covered his mouth to keep him quiet and sat down on the bed next to him. I had slowly removed the hat so he could see me better and I told him my simple plan. I knew I was running out of time, but I wanted to make sure he was all right before we disappeared from this home of torment. But the fates were unkind and refused to let me have one moment of freedom as my sister Susan had walked in and turned on the lights. She screamed at the top of her lungs for our parents. To this is what I saw in her face is something I’ll never forget; her evil eyes stared down on me with such hate that it caused me to shiver. This is always on my mind and still dream of it often.

She had asked Aaron what he was still doing up but noticed the hat I’d placed on his head. He never had a chance to answer, especially once she had spied me in the corner. She screamed at the top of her lungs for our parents once again and told me. “You’re going to get it now.”

“I swear Susan someday there will be a price to pay and I'll make sure you pay every last penny,” I said.

She laughed and said, “that it wouldn’t be today.” You could hear my parents thunder down the hall from their room. I had remained frozen in place; my mind was trying to process rapidly. I wanted to punch her, but with them getting closer all I could see was Aaron’s face as his eyes filled with terror. He feared another beating. He knew it was my fault because I’d come back for him and now we were trapped like a common animal. I didn’t want to leave him, but if I didn’t we’d both be dead or even hospitalized from the severe beating about to take place.

I didn’t think twice as I pushed Susan out of the way and headed for the window; she stopped me with her fingernails digging deeply into my skin. When my mother saw me in the room, she threw my sister to the side and belted me hard across the face. She demanded to know why I’d come back and where I’d stolen the clothes I was wearing. I pushed her away and tried to head towards the window again; I was pulled back in and slammed against the wall so hard my head rebounded.

My father was seething mad and leaned over my slumped body; I was trying to get up, swiping at his legs to give me the distance I needed. But he was ready with one fluid motion his fist punched me in the chest; knocking the air out of my lungs. With his right hand swung the belt back and forth across my legs and sides of my chest as I laid there curled into a ball. Trying to protect myself from on slots of fists, and kicks from everyone in the room as my brother screamed in horror. Somehow I managed to stand, blood dripping from my nose and cuts the belt was making.

I felt numb as I let the warm blood fall to the ground; making it slippery to stand. I saw the horror on my brother’s face as he saw the blood as it dripped from so many places; it was a wonder I wasn’t dead. To be honest, I wasn’t sure that I wasn’t dead: I couldn’t feel anything; not my injuries, no emotions of any kind. I was dead inside and out. I could only see the anger in my parent’s faces, and the hatred in Susan’s eyes. Jeff was screaming in my mind, standing near the window. He was telling me to get up and that my father intended to kill me. There was definitely something evil and dark in that room; it seemed to radiate with it. It was so dark and evil it shocked me to the core.

My mother had screamed at the top her lungs and swore at me; she even lunged at me, narrowly missing me by inches with her fingernails. Trying to rip my skin off before I could dive through the other window; as I jumped through an unopened window, I fell, screaming until I hit the ground. It knocked whatever air I had left out. The glass shards ripped into my flesh and embedded themselves deeply. Jeff stood over me and yelled at me to run as I laid beneath the two-story window in the pool of glass and blood gasping for air. The warm darkness was creeping up on me, ready to consume me, but I knew if they found me I would die. I wouldn’t let that happen as long as they had my brother. I would need to find another way to help him; Jeff urged me as I crawled to safety.

I don’t know how, but I managed to find the strength to crawl far enough out of their reach before they arrived at the spot I had fallen to. Covered by the tall weeds and old boards; I closed my eyes and let the darkness take me. Dawn was almost upon me when I woke. I couldn’t see Jeff, but I knew he was nearby as he must have been the one that had awakened me. I was cold due to the blood loss, but I knew I had to be gone before they could search for me. They would probably finish the job and throw me in a dumpster like the trash I was and would always be.

I knew I was too hurt; my body was bruised and bloodied in so many places. It took a lot of effort just to sit up without feeling dizzy. There was so much blood around me; I knew I needed help, and the only person that could help me lived almost fifty miles away. I had no money to make a phone call and couldn’t very well knock on a door to borrow a phone with these injuries they would definitely cause too much-unwanted attention. The very limited medical knowledge I had learned was in scouting and Mr. Stringum who had taught even more, but even he was too far to go for help. I ripped pieces of my borrowed clothing and wrapped it around the more serious wounds on my legs and arms until I could find a safe place to do more.

There was only one place I could go and only one way to get there unseen while my parents searched for me. I knew I couldn’t take the back road into Payson, and have walked it many times coming home from school to avoid going home. But I needed the route that would take me near the old pond and tree house I had built during the times I had run away. Even though this route was longer it held possibilities. For one, traffic would be almost nil because it was off the beaten path and with the exception of large fields that held wheat and corn; as well as a few fruit orchards; not many people lived on this road except farmers that tend their crops.

My brother and I had fished and swam in that pond many times during those hot summers when our mother was out shopping and our father had been at work. Some times it was because we’d both run away to avoid being beaten within an inch of our lives. Other times it was just to get away from our sisters’ evil, condescending stares. It was close, but far enough away that neither of my parents knew of its existence and closer than that old barn.

I did have one friend in town. Mr. Stringum who owned Stringum’s hardware and Goods; he was an EMT during the war and had patched up many times before. But I didn’t know where he lived, only where he worked. Either way, he was too far away vs. the tree house and the pound. I didn’t have the time to find a phone book to look it up as Jeff was urging me on, besides the only payphone I knew of was inside the only gas station in Santaquin and it was closed. I looked at the sky and the sun was coming over the mountains. I knew they would be searching. I planted my feet forward and crossed into no man's land.

It didn’t take me very long, but I’m not saying it wasn’t slow going due to my injuries. It would be a lie if I said otherwise. It seemed that time stood still as I literally hobbled on down the dirt road using a fallen branch as my crutch. I did my best staying out of prying eyes, in fear that someone would see me, like a cop car patrolling the streets, knowing most likely if they found me they would simply return me to my parents care or if I was lucky they would take me to hospital and they would call my parents. Only to have them deny everything they had done and get away with it like they have done so many times before.

A good share of the people I have known. Believed the lies my parents had spread, as well as some of my behavior due to their treatment of me, I was perceived as a troublemaker and a liar. Very few people actually knew and believed the truth of my parents abusing their children. It’s more likely, to them anyway, that the child lies to get out of trouble; laying the blame on their parents. 

The LDS church is the one that preaches that parents don’t do this, yet it is more common to find alcoholics and drug addicts doing this kind of abuse, they are the only ones capable of this. Good, church-going LDS people don’t see what’s in front of their eyes. They would rather turn their back nine of out ten times than believe this type of abuse is happening to someone they know and would rather believe it’s a falsehood.

Other religions or no better, I have talked to several Priest, Pastures, and Bishops. None were willing to help except by calling the authorities, have my parents deny everything. They would soon release me back into their care and the beating would continue on regardless. I would pray to ask God what I had done wrong to deserve this? And why he had abandoned me. Again silence

Not trusting was the best solution as I remained off the beaten path. I knew I could survive long enough to reach my Grandmother’s house. I hoped she would believe me and not the lies my parents would inevitably be telling her. I knew there was a strong possibility she wouldn’t, but I needed to know for sure and hope she could find a way to help my brother before he became like me and live the same life I had. I had always wanted a better, different life for him than the hell I was living. Is that so wrong?

It wasn’t long before I was feeling dizzy, lightheaded. I’d become feverish due to the blood loss and even though I’d wrapped the wounds that I could, and still remain somewhat decent. The shirt had no sleeves and the bottom was nearly gone around my ribs; I knew they were broken as they caused me to gasp for air and not just from the hobbling. I’d also wrapped a large strip of cloth from my overalls to keep my insides inside my body. My overalls were mostly shorts. To my parents, if they saw me like this I was immoral by showing so much of my flesh, but living in Eskimo suit year-round was impractical, besides I was already going to hell when I get the chance to kill them with my bare hands. Being immodest would just be one more sin against me.

The only thing that I couldn’t cover was where I had to pull out a large piece of glass that had torn my flesh open from my hip to my thigh; it still bled down my leg, but I didn’t have anything else to wrap it with. I knew it would paint a large target on me; all my parents had to do was follow the blood trail. I had to steal more clothes and use the rest of my current wardrobe into bandages. I knew just how serious it was because Jeff was still hurrying me along at a fervent pace. It seemed I would be joining him sooner rather than later as his face was grim. It didn’t seem to matter that I didn’t want to leave my brother with the wolves without protection.

I mentioned it earlier; farmers lived in this part of town, so going unseen wouldn’t be a problem. I soon learned I was in real trouble when I fell and couldn’t get up. Darkness fell upon me, leaving me in the middle of the road; I was done and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. When I woke next I found myself lying in a strange bed; my eyes were heavy and nearly swollen shut. The pain was nothing compared to the fear that I’d been found and returned to my parents. Yet all I could do was groan in agony; trying to move any part of my body that didn’t hurt. An unknown motherly voice would stop me when she laid her hands on my bare shoulders; telling me everything was all right.

I remember my eyes flying open and fearing the worst. I didn’t see what was actually there, instead, I saw my father standing at the foot of the bed and Jeff in the corner of my new prison. I recall screaming in terror as I looked into what I thought were my father’s eyes; I could see the everlasting hatred in them. But at the same time, I could hear the stranger’s voice as she calmed me; I felt tears fall onto my hot, feverish skin; calmly she told me to lie still, placing a cool cloth on my forehead. My mind raced as I found no solution; my voice seemed to be but a whisper as I asked where I was. She only smiled as she took a seat next to me; placing another cool cloth on my head.

My father’s ‘ghost’ faded, but Jeff never left. I’d learned not to fear him as he had become my constant companion. He seldom said anything to me until it was important and right now he smiled reassuringly at me and told me that I was safe as he sat at the foot of the bed. For some reason, I was the only one that could see or hear him. My parents couldn’t, my friends couldn’t, just me. Why? I couldn’t say.

Occasionally he’d warn me that trouble was coming, but he’d never say what kind. Other times, like now, he would be there to reassure me that I was safe. For the moment; with his bright blue eyes and smile; he always knew what I was feeling. When trouble was near, his eyes turned a cloudy grey and when it was deadly serious, they were red. They were that color when I jumped from the window with his voice in my head telling me that my father was going to kill me.

But now he was calm and smiled a reassured me that I was safe. Did I have my doubts? Sure they screamed at me causing me to panic and asking more clearly. My throat dries as dust and held the taste of blood, I also found that two more teeth were missing. At this rate, I doubt I would have any left courtesy of my father’s fist.

She shushed me; I couldn’t let the feeling go. I grabbed her wrist only to let it fall uselessly by my side. I was weak as a kitten and feared I was about to die. She slowly took my hand and squeezed it; telling me they had found me two days ago lying in the road near their farm; and that due to my injuries they called a doctor that still did house calls by the name of Doctor Hatfield and decided it was best if I stayed here for now until it was safe enough for me to be moved. 

That name sounded so familiar to me, but at the time I couldn’t place it for the life of me. I also learned that somehow I ended up on the Downing farm, her name was Martha Downing. She asked my name placing another cool cloth on my head. I told her my name was EJ, not Eric. I wanted to keep my real name a secret for now. I listened to her calming voice as she tried asks me about my injuries.

I couldn’t answer her even though I felt safe, safer than I had been in a very long time. I could not answer that question afraid she wouldn’t believe me. Who would? So I nodded letting my eyes close listening to Jeff in my mind that I was safe for now at least and that I should trust them, but how many times could I keep trusting only to be let down in the end?. I didn’t need to see his lips move to hear him, for they never moved. We spoke, or I spoke; rather he listened as I would ramble. I am sure people thought I was crazy. Not my fault they couldn’t see him.

For some reason, Mrs. Downing seemed to acknowledge his presence which was strange. Yet she never said anything as she squeezed my hand and nodded to Jeff and he nodded back and vaporized echoing his thoughts in my mind “trust them.” Which was strange in its self. I asked her if she would call my Grandmother giving her the phone number. She asked if I lived with my Grandmother or here in town with my parents. She must have seen my eyes just by mentioning my parents because then she gasped seeing the fear and squeezed my hand. Telling me not to worry if I didn’t want parents to know where I was nobody was going to tell them for now at least. When she leaned down and kissed my cheek whispering she completely understood. She called for her husband Wayne to stay in the room so I wouldn’t be alone in case I needed anything.

Martha was a loving wife and mother of five children and a husband. Some would say she was very beautiful with her long brown hair tied into a nice neat bun. To me, she would always be perfect. Her deep blue eyes and her soft cheekbones which seemed to make you smile and feel safe in her arms. She also had the voice of an angel whenever she sang to me my first few days and during any time I was sick. To her, I was one of her children and I loved her more than life itself.

It is true what they say regarding her status when came to things that need to be done around the house. She wore the pants in the family and Wayne would not trade it for the world. Her cooking was one of the best to be found next to her husband if she allowed him in the kitchen at all or near her stove. Martha had a heart of gold when came to her children needs, but she always expected more from them when it came to discipline, she always helped them choose what was the right thing to do and never encourage bad behavior or tolerated fighting.

She was a stay at home mom by all counts that are important, to be there when her children needed her. Plus she always had her husband Wayne closes by if she needed him. Martha has always lied heavily on her gut instincts when it comes down to strange occurrences and soon became that I wasn’t the only one that saw Jeff became a secret that only I and she would share. Martha was a person that could make the hard decisions seem easy, regarding family matters. You also learn to never cross her when she wanted something done bad enough and expected it to be done come hell or high water.

The moment Mr. Downing walked into the room I shuttered with fear due to the sheer size of him. He had frightened me bad enough to cause me to pee myself and in doing so I realized that they’d stripped me completely; feeling the warm pee running down my legs. I was naked, angry, I hurt like hell, I couldn’t move, and now I had peed myself like a little baby. I watched the blanket turn dark as the urine spread; it smelled bad too.

But all he did was smile realizing he had scared the living hell out of me. Said he was sorry that he scared me, calmly reassured me that I was in no danger. Somehow I knew that I was safe and Jeff seemed satisfied enough that I wasn’t in any danger that he was no longer in the room; a habit of his. It seemed he always knew where I would be and when I needed him the most. I guessed right now he figured I didn’t need him, but his thoughts still felt warm with the words “trust them.” I knew if there was one person in this world I could trust it would be him. Despite the fact he was dead; he had been with me ever since that moment.

Mrs. Downing leaned over and kissed his cheek. She told him my name was EJ and that she was going to give my Grandmother a call. She was also going to make sure he could carry me down the hall and clean me up. Mrs. Downing said she would have their daughters, Julie and Anna, come in and change the bedding. She asked if that would be okay and I nodded yes. 

I watched her leave the room and felt safe enough. I felt even safer knowing that my Grandmother would know where I was. At the same time, I had strong doubts she would believe me enough to help me and my brother; to get him out of my father’s reach, hoping he was still alive. Even though I still had Jeff’s reassurances that he was, for the moment, I had doubts that things were not all right. I had never seen such anger in their eyes as the night I jumped to save my life. I needed him safe and I need my Grandmother to believe me more than ever.

I should tell you a little about the Downing farm before continuing. It sat on fifty acres of the best farming soil in Santaquin County. They lived in a log-type, one story farmhouse with hardwood floors and meager furnishings. Wayne and his father had built them for Martha as wedding gifts. Even though it looked small on the outside it was large enough in the inside to give each of his kids there own rooms and one large bathroom for the family to share. 

Ma’s kitchen was spacious with homemade oak cabinets, with the walls painted bright yellow and white lace curtains in all the windows. She had a large dining room off to the side which divided the living room from the rest of the house and a large red brick fireplace. That would keep us warm during the winter. The living room contained a large bay window that looked out to the farm with a long comfortable coach and three smaller chairs that made the room homey and comfortable. All the wood furniture was homemade, but the quality was better than anything you could buy in any furniture store.

His father died soon after they had their first child. Wayne like his father was a farmer and spent his most his time with his boys in the fields growing corn, wheat, and hay plus ten acres in fruit trees. He owned twenty chickens and one roaster mostly for eggs, and two dozen pigs and four horses and one colt, born this past winter. But when the planting was done he and his boys would build furniture and sell what they built and raised to Stringum and other merchants around town for their main livelihood and did very well for themselves. They may not be rich, but they made it up in love for their family.

Wayne Downing always had a gentle side to him, but you would not know it unless you met him and looked into his bright blue eyes. Soft brown hair with a tan complexion from working on a farm and the fields as he provided for his family with traded goods handmade wooden furniture and crops from the fields. Taller than any average man standing seven feet ten inches, Built like an oak tree and had arms of a bodybuilder. His face chiseled by arc angel Michel himself, his wife Martha quoted to him on occasion or two. A farmer and a woods craftsman by trade, gentle as they come, but had a stubborn streak true to any mule alive.

He was the type of man that would go out of his way to help a neighbor in trouble and not ask for anything in return, A honest loving man and father of five children three boys and two girls, who he loves more than the earth itself. Wayne strongly believed in honesty and hard discipline, not in the use of anger or words, but in deeds to fit the punishment and well-placed handshake when taking someone's word or a promise when striking a deal.

For now, at least, I knew I was going to be okay as Mr. Downing picked me up; gentle as a butterfly. He made sure to tuck the sheet around me and made sure that the hallway was clear as he carried me to the bathroom and set me in the tub. He bathed me, taking care not to remove the bandages. Apparently, he and Mrs. Downing had done most of the stitching themselves to stop the bleeding before they could even call the doctor. I was embarrassed and though I tried not to be; they were still strangers to me. I had been through worse situations. 

I remembered when the Steeds’ had to take care of me after I’d caused myself bodily harm. I was very shy when it came to that. I couldn’t even take showers in gym without being embarrassed. But before I knew it I was back in bed, tucked in, and having his wife tell me that my Grandmother was on her way. It made me feel better, yet, there was something in her eyes that said she knew a secret and I was soon about to learn it.

Reviews

[M Garcia]

The Downings! Wonderful people. I wish...

[Shep]

thanks for the review

[Julie McCarthy (juliesp..]

It’s a wonder you didn’t die by all the abuse at a young age and that church that never believed you shocking this is well written but heartbreaking to read nonetheless

[Shep]

yes church has always been a sore point for me