We walked further into the house. As we neared the hall, she stopped. My room she said, and walked into my spare bedroom. She turned completely around looking at the entire room. Each wall, the ceiling, and the window. Then she came back into the hallway, and she stopped and stood outside of my room. Mamma and Dada, she said. She slid down to the floor and began to cry. She didn't open the door, but just sat there crying. I walked over next to her, and very slowly and gently, I put my arms around her and held her tight. She held me back, and repeated the words, Mamma and Dada, and continued to cry. I thought about calling the police. This woman needed help. Maybe more than I was capable of.
In a few minutes she stopped crying and she let go of me. I took my arms away and she stood up. She continued to look around. I could tell she was remembering things from her past. I was bewildered, yet extremely intrigued at the same time. I wanted to know her story. I wanted to know what had happened to her and her family. I needed to know. I wanted to help this woman anyway I could. My heart was filled with all kinds of emotion for her. Could she have lived here as a child? What of her family? Who is she? And most of all, what had brought her here to me, especially, in such a destitute and stifled condition?
I was glad I did not call the police. They would probably have just written her off as a mentally challenged homeless person, and not given a damn about her at all. I will try and take care of her myself, I thought. I will start, by finding out all I can about her and her plight. I will do what I do best. I will do some research, just like I do for my stories. Meanwhile, I will try and comfort her, and build our lines of communication. It was like she was a child in some manners. Maybe she was retarded I thought, or maybe she was autistic. She was definitely uneducated, and living out on the streets, there was no doubt in my mind about that.
There is a shower in the bathroom I told her, and I have some old clothes that you can wear. She really did smell bad, and my god was she dirty. Melissa looked at me. It's right at the top of the stairs I said...."On the left" she interrupted smiling," I remember". I handed her some of my old clothes, and said, the towels are in the lin... "Linen closet", she said interrupting again. Yes I said, the linen closet. With that she went up the stairs. I heard the bathroom door squeak as she closed it tight. I heard the lock click and then click again. She was sure to double check it.
While Melissa was in the shower, I went to my computer. It is old, and always takes a few minutes to boot up. When it was up and running, I sat thinking where to begin. I decided to type in the address to my home. Then I clicked the search button. In seconds I had all kinds of results. The first seven were all about a murder kidnapping. I got chills down my spine. I couldn't believe it. I retyped my address and it came up the same, so I began to read. It was seventeen years ago. The headline read, Double Murder and Kidnapping in Monticello. The story told of two adults being murdered while asleep, and their eight year old daughter kidnapped. The police had no leads. In another article, two years later, it said the case was still open, but still no leads. I read through a few more articles and then in one clip it had names. Debra S. 32, and her husband Marty S. 39, slain in sleep, and their only daughter Melissa 8, missing. My heart was crushed with such pain. This poor girl. This had to be her. But where had she been these last seventeen years. Who could have done this. I vowed right then and there that I would find out, and get retribution for this poor girl. I had tears in my eyes. I heard the water turn off. The old pipe clangs when you turn off the hot. I copied the articles and pasted them into a new file. The computer asked for a save to file name, I assigned it, MEL IS SA. As I turned the computer off, the squeaky door gave away her exit. I did not know what I was going to say to her. Maybe nothing at all just yet. She needs time to find herself and even more than that, time to heal. As she walked down the stairs, I quickly wiped away my tears.
Melissa stood in front of me wearing a pair of my old jeans, and a flannel shirt that were way to small for me. Under all that dirt, and those old ratty clothes, was the most beautiful girl I have ever laid eyes on. I hope you feel better I said. She nodded up and down. I will wash your old things I said, but meanwhile, maybe we can drive into town and buy you some new clothes. Again her eye's got wide. For me, she asked? Yes I said. For you. Melissa half smiled at me and nodded up and down once more. I could see a sparkle in her eyes. Alright I said, let's go. We walked out the door and as we did, she turned and looked back into the house, and again her eye's welled with tears. I stopped walking and held her. Everything is going to be fine I assured her, you are safe with me. We then continued to the car.
On the way to town, she was quiet and just looked out the windows. Occasionally she would point at something and mumble under her breath. I asked her once what was wrong ? I remember that, she said, going to the store with my mamma. It was an old water tower. She was remembering, and I though it a good time to ask some questions. Maybe she would remember and answer me. I asked her where she has been living all this time. The cellar she said. What cellar, I asked? The mans cellar she replied. Do you know his name I asked? Sir she replied. Everyone called him sir. Again I thought to myself. Everyone calling him sir. Sounds like a wealthy or powerful man. Nobody calls me sir. I wondered who the scumbag was, that killed her parents and kidnapped her, and stole her life like this. I got lost in the thought while driving, and was quiet the rest of the ride.
We reached town and found a woman's clothing store. I think she enjoyed shopping for clothes. The sales girl was really helpful and did all the work. When she was finished she had some pants, shirts, shoes, and her under clothes. We got her two winter coats also. It was only February, and winter was far from over. After shopping we stopped for a hot chocolate. Melissa liked that a lot. Even more than shopping I think. We made one more stop at the market for some food. There were two mouths in the house now to feed, and my fridge was empty. By the time we got back to the house it was almost dark. We watched the last three chickens head into the coop. I really missed that she said. What did you miss I asked? Taking care of my chickens she said. That was my job, they were my friends. I smiled at her and said, I understand, they are my friends too.
I hadn't changed the house at all, other than new paint and refinishing the floors, and a good heavy cleaning. The house had been empty ever since the murders and kidnapping. It was built well, and the estate lawyer had a maintenance crew do the up keep. They even kept up with the chickens. I guess that made the place more like an active home. It would help keep strangers away. The lawyer told me I was lucky to buy when I did, as the money for maintenance had just run out, and so it was all still in great shape. A year later and who knows what mother nature would have taken back. She is a strong force to reckon with. Just imagine the weeds and trees in your yard not being cut for a whole year. A new forest would take root. It seems that I had some luck on my side after all. One thing that did irk me though, was that the lawyer never told me anything about the history of the house, other than it was a family owned farm. A little deceptive I would say, but maybe for the best. I may never had bought it, had I known.
Melissa felt at home for the most part. She slept in her room, my spare room, and I slept in mine. I didn't sleep much the first few nights. I began to wonder about things. I thought, what if she killed her parents and just took off. Maybe the police just thought she was kidnapped. Maybe she was a psychotic killer and now sleeping in my house. Then I pictured her after her shower. She was absolutely stunning. There is no way she did that. This poor girl has been through hell I thought. Doing some quick math in my head, I was about seven years older than Melissa. She was abducted at age eight, seventeen years ago, that makes her twenty five now, I'm thirty two. I wish I had met her under better circumstances, maybe we could have dated. But with all her pain, I could never take advantage of anyone like that. I again vowed to myself to help this girl get some justice. Someone needs to pay for what they did to her and her family.
As the days began to pass, Melissa slowly settled in. She took her job back caring for the chickens. It made her much more comfortable having something to do. We even got some paint from the store in town, and painted a new sign. Fresh chicken eggs, $2.00 per dozen. The folk who took the free eggs, were more than happy to pay the two dollars. Each day, she would wake up, and tend the birds. I watched her through the window by where I write. She would pick one up, hold it close to her body, and gently rub it's head, and then put it down and pick up the next. She had so much love, it was incredible to watch. Melissa and I talked more and more. The further she relaxed, the more she would open up about her life, and all that she went through. It took a couple of months to get it all straight, but here is her story, the best I can figure, from all that she has told me..
She woke up to the sound of her mom screaming. She got out of bed and when she entered the hallway, she saw a man in her parents room, stabbing her over and over. Her father was just lying there all bloody. He must have been killed first. The man wiped the knife on the sheet, put it in his belt, and then grabbed Melissa and ran out. He drove for a long time she said. When they finally stopped, they were at a very large house, with a big black metal gate. The man pushed a button and the gate opened by it self. He drove up the driveway to the back of the house. The next thing she remembered was waking up in the basement, locked in with no way out. There was a pitcher of water, and some dry cereal in a plastic bowl on a small wooden dresser. The only other furniture was a bed. For two days she was all alone in the very dimly lit cellar, with no other food or water. She could hear people upstairs moving and talking, but had no idea what was happening. On the third night, a man came down stairs and into the small dungeon like room. He was not the man who killed her parents and kidnapped her. She never saw that man again. This new man then raped the small eight year old girl repeatedly. Afterward he left, locking her in once again. The next day a lady, she had to call her Madam, came down with some food and water, and after Melissa had eaten, the woman also raped her, and then left.
This horror went on for a long time and then it got even worse. What could be worse your asking yourself? The couple began having parties. During these parties, other men and woman were allowed to go down to abuse the child in the cellar. For nine years, Melissa suffered this abuse from these horrid people. All of them, she had to call sir or madam. She heard what I assume were servants upstairs in the house, always call the people sir and madam also. When she was seventeen, after a big party one night, sir came down drunk and had his way with her. He passed out on the bed afterward, and Melissa escaped and ran away. He had told her many times that if she ever tried to run away, that he would find her, and she would be sorry. He said he controlled the police too, and if she went to them he would find out. She made her way to the city and the horrors continued, but these were the horrors of street life. She was forced into prostitution for a pimp. Of course he abused her as well. Once she was going to tell a cop, who she was, and what happened, but as soon as she got close to him, she thought about what sir had told her, and got scared and ran in the other direction. The streets were bad, but going back to sir's basement was even worse. She told a woman in one of the homeless shelters, but the lady ignored her as if she was just a mental case. Melissa said that ever since she could remember, her mamma made her repeat her address every morning at breakfast. It was a ritual they had until the day she was abducted. Every day after that Melissa repeated it to herself on her own. It was all she had. After two years on the street, she made friends with an old homeless woman. The old woman taught her how to dress with old dirty clothes, and to stay dirty and disheveled, to avoid being attacked or forced to prostitute herself. No one even took a second glance at her after that. Five more years she spent homeless on the city streets. She talked to almost no one, except the old bag lady who had befriended her.
One night the old woman died, and Melissa was once more all alone. She was sad. She thought of her mamma and Dada. She knew they were dead, but she wanted to go home. She thought about it a lot. One day while digging through the garbage she found a map that someone had thrown away. She took the map, along with the cans and bottles she had collected, and headed to the store to return them. The old woman had taught her well. She hid the money under a rock in the park where she slept. When she was settled in her box for the night, Melissa opened the map. It was a map of upstate. She looked all over the map and suddenly her heart skipped a beat. There it was, Monticello NY. It had roads on it but she could not find hers. She made a plan to go home. She saved every single one of those nickles, until she had enough to purchase a bus ticket.
It was the beginning of February and really cold, when Melissa walked into the bus depot, and up to the window. One ticket to Monticello she said. The man looked at her. Yea right he said, get out of here before I call the police you bum. People are so cold hearted. I am so glad that all of us are not like that. Melissa looked hard into his eye's and placed her money on the counter. One ticket to Monticello she repeated. He instantly took the cash, then he printed out the ticket and flipped it through the window, and onto the counter. When she picked up the ticket, a warm sensation fluttered like a butterfly, through her entire being. She was going home. It was the happiest feeling she had had, since she was eight years old and tending her chickens at home, with her mom and dad.
Next stop Monticello NY called the bus driver. Melissa's heart was beating fast. She was almost there. When the bus finally pulled into the station, her heart sank. It was then, that she actually realized, that she had nothing, or no one to go to here either. She got off the bus, and sat on the bench and cried. When she gathered herself, she sat trying to think of what to do. This poor woman had no education past second grade, and only knew what she learned in the cellar, and out on the streets. Another bus was pulling in. What am I going to do, she thought. She watched as the people boarded the bus, and then it pulled away. On the back of it, she saw a huge picture of a chicken, with a caption that read, GOT EGGS? It was sign, she thought, I will go home. Melissa saw a police car, and was afraid. She darted into the woods, and hid from him. She decided to sleep right there, and in the morning begin her search for the small farmhouse, she had imprinted on her mind, and in her heart.
She awoke at daybreak, alone, cold, and hungry. She exited the woods, and asked some folks waiting for the bus if they knew where Cold Spring Road was located. Three of them looked at her and just turned away. Another spit in her direction. She started to walk away when a young woman spoke up. She walked over to Melissa and told her the directions. It was ten miles away, on the farthest outskirts of town. She then reached into her purse and gave Melissa a twenty dollar bill. Good luck she said, and turned and walked to her approaching bus. Melissa began walking. She stopped at a store in town and bought some food. She asked the clerk to please double the plastic bag. She hung the bag over her shoulder and began her long walk home. She got lost a few times, turning the trip into two weeks instead of two days. She slept in abandoned barns, and in the woods, and her last night in the chicken coop. Her food ran out after the ninth day and she went hungry for four more, until the morning I found her, asleep under the hay.
One morning while Melissa was putting the eggs out at the stand, I turned on the morning news. When she came back in the house and walked into the room, she froze dead in her tracks. Him she screamed out, it is him. That is sir. He is the one who kept me in the cellar and did those things. She put her head down in shame. I got up and went over to her to comfort her, but she pushed me away. Feelings had been stirred up. Feelings that were not good or easy to live with. It is okay I said. You are safe here. What she saw on the television, was a political commercial for a congressman running for reelection. Yes I thought, a wealthy powerful man. Sir. Everyone did call him sir. I turned off the TV and Melissa calmed down. She came to me, and said she was sorry for pushing me away. Don't you be sorry I said. You did nothing wrong. It was that bastard. He will be punished, I promise. End part two.
If you like, and are enjoying MEL IS SA, and you don't want to miss part three, please click the like page button, and the end of the story should appear in your news feed automatically when I post it. Peace to you and may your weekend be filled with compassion, love, and happiness.
Part three the conclusion
The next few weeks flew by. It was almost spring and Melissa began to talk about how her mom and dad used to grow food in the gardens. She remembered going to the stand with her mom, when a car would stop to purchase vegetables or eggs. They had an honor system also, where people would just leave the money for what they took, but it was nice to meet and chat with the people too. We sat together for hours searching google, and reading about growing things. She remembered there were all kinds of different vegetables growing in the gardens, and we decided to try as many as we could. During the days we planted, and at night we sat at the television watching the news, c-span, the channel that has the congressional sessions, and or viewing live sessions of the senate on the computer. It was hard for Melissa to watch, but she understood why it was so important. Each time she would see a man or woman who she remembered from the cellar, I would write down the name. We had our own police line up right in front of us, courtesy of the wealthy media owners. By July, we had twenty four names. Nineteen men and five woman. Fifteen of the men were top politicians, I am sorry to say, that two of them, have held the top position in our government. Three more, were just extremely wealthy corporate owners, and the last man was the head of the news media. Three of the woman were politicians. The fourth filthy rich, and the fifth woman was the wife of sir. Melissa said there were more people, but we never found them on the computer or TV. I'm sure they were the wealthiest of the wealthy.
The gardens were flourishing. We had potatoes, garlic, tomatoes, beans, corn, peppers, carrots, lettuce, kale, cabbage, spinach, broccoli, and cauliflower. We even grew brussel sprouts, but they were not ready until late in November. I thought the frost was going to kill them, but they seemed to flourish even in the cold. One garden had squash and melons galore. Every day, Melissa would pick and wash the produce and set it out at the stand. She had a natural talent for it. Anyone driving past, could not help but to stop and browse through our goods, and inevitably buy something. It was as if she had decorated the stand with the vegetables. It was awesome. I admired her a lot. She had been through so much, yet still had the strength and courage to go on. I don't know if I could have lived her ordeal, without ending my life. Yes I admired her greatly.
It took some time for me to figure out how to approach the situation. With all these high profile powerful people, who would I turn to for help. Surely they would just deny the allegations, or no one would even bother to take me seriously. I spent weeks and weeks researching government officials, to find the most honest and caring person I could. One who worked for the benefit of the people, and not for the wealthy profiteers. After an exhausting search, I found a old senator in Vermont. He had worked for the people his entire career. He fought for civil rights in the sixties, and has fought for the average American ever since. He had even run for president but there was some crooked dealings in both parties and he lost. He started his presidential campaign with twenty people around a campfire, and a year later, he had almost half of the country following him. Every event he had, was sold out, and still had thousands of people outside the arenas just waiting to hear him speak. His adversaries in both parties, those who serve the rich, you know,(mammon), painted him as a socialist. Look at Venezuela they said, he will destroy America. Venezuela was the worst case scenario of socialism. They never mentioned the other socialist countries that had good leadership and are flourishing to this day. You don't see people from Denmark, Finland, Netherlands, Canada, Sweden, Norway, or Ireland, lined up at our borders trying to get in. The people in those countries are content and living well. Unlike millions upon millions of suffering Americans. That senator only wanted to add four years of public college, to our already k-12 public school system, and give us single payer heath coverage. It seems to work in every other country just fine. No one, has to worry about healthcare. Can you imagine not having to worry about the cost of healthcare ever again? Anyway, I found him to be the best person to approach with Melissa's story. I wrote him a long letter and mailed it. That was my mistake.
Some underling on his staff read the letter first, and the guilty parties caught wind of it right away. Before I knew it, I was under investigation. I told Melissa there was going to be trouble, and had her stay put in a small bed and breakfast over in the Village of Mongap. No one else knew of her existence, except the senator, sir, and myself, and whoever sir may have told. I had an old 22 caliber pistol from my college days, when my friends and I would shoot in competitions. I was a marksman shot back then, and although I hadn't shot it in years I didn't forget how. I dug it out of an old box on the floor in the back of the closet, and cleaned it just in case things got out of hand. A few days went by with me alone in the house, and sure enough, two men showed up in the middle of the night. I was to be quietly put down. I laid in wait, and surprised them both. I watched as they climbed out from the SUV, guns drawn, and headed into the back yard near the coop. I left the door unlocked so that they would have easy access, and I the advantage. When the first man opened the door and stepped into the doorway, I shot him in his armpit of the arm holding the gun. As he fell back and outside onto the ground, the other fired back, and I fired again hitting him in the chest. He too fell back and out onto the ground. I figured they would be wearing bullet proof vests, and sure enough they were. They guy I shot in the chest stood back up, grabbed his partner and then they both turned and fled into their vehicle and left. It was a black Lincoln Navigator. The guy I had shot under the arm was loosing blood fast. There was a huge puddle on the ground. The next morning the Monticello police were at my door. I figured the one guy had to have died, due to the immense loss of blood. I guess I was going to have to tell the police the whole story after all. I didn't want to do that for Melissa'a safety. I quickly decided that I would be a good man, and just take the fall for shooting the intruder. I was stunned, when I was arrested and charged with the murder of Debra and Marty, Melissa's parents, and the kidnapping and murder of eight year old Melissa. Not a word was said about two men. I was handcuffed and put in the police car. They searched the house and found nothing except my computer. It had Melissa's story on it.
I was interrogated over and over for hours on end. They wanted to know where Melissa was. I kept repeating myself to them. You have charged me with her kidnapping and murder so she must be dead. Never would I reveal that I knew anything about her, or her whereabouts. She would no doubt be killed and hidden from site instantly. I spent two weeks in the county jail until my court date. There was no hesitation in my speedy trial. It happened so fast. Everything was done quietly. The public defender was a joke. He did nothing at all. I was convicted and sent to a maximum security prison for life, without any chance of parole. Also added to my sentence, was no contact, phone, or visitation rights. There very little media coverage. Just a few blurbs in the local paper to show the people that the police were doing their job, and the case was finally solved. I was so surprised to see Melissa walk through the door.
Five long years had passed while I wasted away in prison. I did write a bunch of books and stories over the years. I still have them all. The guards loved reading them, and they would all give me different scenario's to write about. It made the time go a little faster, and well, at least I had an audience. In my head it was them being held captive, not me. It was like I had some power over them. It helped in keeping me sane in there, to have some kind of control, even if it was just in my head.
Melissa walked over and sat down in the chair on the other side of the glass window. She had tears in her eyes and so did I. We lifted our phones at the same time. Dan, she said. Hi Melissa, I said, are you alright. I am fine she said, and how about you? I am doing well I told her. How is it you were able to visit me. Times have changed she said. I looked hard into her eye's. How, what do you mean I asked? Melissa began to speak. She spoke very clear and well. It sounded like she had been schooled a bit. She was still absolutely gorgeous in my eyes. I listened, and hung onto her every word. I wanted to reach through the glass and hold her again.
I stayed in the Village of Mongap for almost a year she said. Each week, I would go by the house and tend the chickens and get the mail. The water system worked fine and I gave them plenty to eat. I kept the run closed, but the tiny door to the coop open. They have been just fine. I was always careful not to be seen. One day, about three years ago, a letter came from Senator Sanders. He read your letter and believed you. He knew such things were going on, but had no proof. That was until now. In his letter, he asked you to meet with him. You being in jail and all, I went. I told him everything, the whole story. He asked me if I would take a DNA test to prove who I was. And I did. When it came back, he immediately started an internal investigation. He ran for president again and won. He had the FBI not only investigate all the names on the list, but he had all their homes searched too. He used their own patriot act laws against them, the way they had used them against hundreds of thousands of innocent Americans. They found the same kind of dungeon rooms in the cellars of thirteen of their homes. Twenty youths, male and female, ages six through seventeen, were saved from the clutches of those monsters. The FBI also found thousands of pounds of heroine, cocaine, fentanyl, and barbiturates, and huge cashes of cash. Most of them are now awaiting trials of their own. Two have committed suicide. The senator had promised if he got elected president, to end the corruption in our government, and he started with our case. He is changing the corrupt financial and justice inequality once and for all. Dan she said, you picked the right man to help. I sat there with tears in my eyes crying. I couldn't believe what she was saying. Next month Dan, she said looking deep into my eyes, you will be a free man. The house is so empty without you I want you to come home. Home, I asked? Yes, Home she said, home to live with me.
Melissa had moved back to the farm, and kept things going for the last three years that I was in prison. I never knew. She was truly a gifted woman. I wondered about the men I had shot. No one ever mentioned them to me. I was guilty of killing a man, I was sure of that. On the morning of my release, The guard came to my cell and told me I had a phone call. Melissa I thought. It was the first and only call I ever received in prison. He walked me, uncuffed, and unshackled, to the office where the phone was. He handed me the receiver. Hello I said? Hi Dan, this is the President. I wanted to be the first to congratulate you on your release, and to thank you for all your help in breaking up the biggest, most corrupt human trafficking and drug running ring in our country's history. Thank you so much I replied, but I have a confession to make. I told him about the night I shot the men who were after me. Without pause he said, I know. They were part of the ring, and the one who died, was the man who killed Melissa's mom and dad, and kidnapped her. You have done your country and your fellow man a great service. Now go home, and be truly free. HOME! No one could ever know just how wonderful that one word sounded. Well, I could think of one.
She was standing outside the prison next to my car, when the prison gate closed behind me. She ran to me, and threw her arms around my shoulders. Mine wrapped just as fast around her. We stood there in the street, just holding each other tight. I felt such peace in her arms. And her in mine. Let's go home she said. Home! I choked up and cried.
Melissa and I married a year later, and have been together ever since. She runs our little farm business, and I continue to write my stories. Our lives have had many twists and turns, and many up's and downs, but I would never want to spend one single day away, from my Melissa. Together we have found the true meaning of HOME. Love <3