Seeing the shadow of evil on his face, hearing the determination in his voice, and feeling the strength of his hands, I knew that he would kill us if he had to.
From that moment forward, I never doubted what he would do. Let me be clear about that. I spent more than nine months under his control. Every day that I spent with him made me more and more convinced that this man was capable of killing. He would have stuck me in an instant. There is no doubt and never was.
I quietly slipped out of bed.
The man grabbed me by the arm. There was enough light that I could see his knife. It wasn’t a pocketknife. This was much more than that. It was long and black and serrated. Maybe eight inches long. It looked like it could cut right through me, right through my heart and bone.
I can’t describe the terror! It is simply impossible to express. Here I was, a little girl, in the middle of the night, being taken from my bed, from my own home, from what I thought was the safest place in the entire world. It was an unimaginable intrusion! Everything that I had thought, every feeling of safety or comfort, every assumption of protection, was stolen in that instant. My world spun on its head.
My mind began to race. Had he already killed my parents? Were other members of my family dead? What about my little sister, sleeping beside me in the bed? Would he harm her? Would he kill her? What could I do to keep her safe?
His hands were large and powerful as they pulled me from my bed. Holding the knife at my back, he pushed me toward my closet. All of the lights were turned off. On the way, I stubbed my toe. “Ouch!” I whispered, and he threatened me again. We passed through the bathroom. Holding me very close, the knife always at my back, he pushed me inside the closet. One of us turned the light on, but I don’t remember if it was me or him.
“Get your shoes,” he whispered in my ear.
I bent toward a pair of slippers.
“No!” he spat, pushing me toward my white running shoes. “Get those!”
My heart sank in utter horror. Was he taking me outside?
Sensing my hesitation, he leaned toward me again. “I’m taking you hostage. For ransom.”
I felt myself deflate. It seemed the very life was ready to leave my body. My throat tightened up with fear.
The light was on now and I could see his face. His long beard. His dark-brown hair. Everything he wore was dark. The terrifying knife. In every possible way, this was a very dark man.
“Grab your shoes!” he barked again. His voice was low but deadly. He was holding tightly to my arm, his fingers digging into me. I hardly noticed the pain. My body was flushing with adrenaline. I was trembling with fear.
I picked up my white running shoes, the same ones that I had worn when I had gone jogging the night before. Bending over, I started to put them on.
“No! Not now. Bring them with you,” he ordered.
He pushed me toward the bedroom door. We slowly moved out into the hall. He stayed right behind me, never more than a fraction of an inch away. The long knife was always close. “Not a sound!” he told me. “I’ll kill you and your entire family!” My heart pounded in my chest. I felt the itch of his beard against my neck. He led me toward the stairs. It was dark and quiet. None of my family was awake. Deadly quiet. Deadly darkness. I could hear the grandfather clock ticking from downstairs. He led me down the hall and pushed me past the stairs. Realizing his mistake, he forced me to backtrack, then led me down to the main hall.
Dad, please wake up! I was praying in my mind. Mom, can you hear me? Please wake up and save me!
“What is the quickest way out?” he whispered as we stood in the main entry.
I hesitated, feeling sick with utter fear.
He is going to take me outside, I thought. He is going to hurt or kill me!
I felt the knife against my back. Cold. Hard. I imagined the cut of the blade into my body. “The sliding-glass door behind us,” I answered, afraid that I was going to cry.
He acted like he didn’t hear me. Pushing me forward, he directed me through the kitchen, past the pantry, toward the back door. Out we went. We were on the patio now. He was always very close, controlling everything I did. He directed me across the backyard and up the hill to the side yard near the top of our property. I felt his arms tighten up around me as he pulled me to a stop. “Put on your shoes now,” he said.
“Why are you doing this?!” I cried.
He looked at me in anger. “I’m taking you hostage.”