We walked further into the house. 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 slid down to the floor and began to cry. She didn't open the door, but just sat there crying. I walked close 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.
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 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 feeling all kinds of emotions for her. Could she have lived here as a child? What of her family? Who is she?
I was glad I did not call the police. They would have just written her off as a mentally challenged homeless person, and not given a damn about her at all. I was going to do what I do best. I would 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, "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. 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 retyped my address and it came up the same. 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 woman. 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 heal.
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 said. 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 into the house, and tears came to her eyes again. 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. 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. 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, 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 could 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 erk 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. 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 32. 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 tend the birds. I watched her through the window by where I write. She would pick one up and hold it close to her body and gently rub it's heads, 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, but here is her story.
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 cellar room. He was not the man who killed her parents and kidnapped her. She never saw him again. This other man 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, 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 got scared and ran in the other direction. The streets were bad, but going back to sir's basement was 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 more 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 disheveled and dirty 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 home.
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 flowed like a wave through her entire being. She was going home. It was the happiest she had been since she was eight years old 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 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 gonna 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 which 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 in the woods and in the morning begin her search for the small farmhouse she had imprinted 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 a 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.
One morning while Melissa was putting the eggs out at the stand, I was watching the morning news. When she came back in the house and walked into the room, she froze 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 with. It is okay I said. You are safe here. It 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.