A Way Out Of Nowhere
My stepdad, Jay, jumped on the hood of the car as Mom was backing out of the driveway, then kicked the windshield in to stop her from leaving.
Tiny, clear-blue shards flew with enough force to stick into Mom’s face, hands, and arms. Glass also pelted me and my siblings in the backseat, but aside from a few surface scratches and the terror of it all, we were okay. Being eleven, the only girl, and the oldest, I sat between my two little brothers, six and one years old, trying to soothe their distress as my own hands shook.
Mom kept her foot on the gas pedal, navigating twenty miles of curvy, rural back roads to the next town over, squinting through swollen, blackened eyes as blood rolled into them and tears poured out. The windshield looked like icy spiderwebs, aside from a gaping hole in front of Mom, which showered her with glass as she drove.
Upon arrival, Grandma picked the shards off us and out of Mom’s skin. She then laid out blankets and pillows, letting us sleep on the kitchen floor of their trailer overnight. Grandpa kept saying how he was going to hurt Jay when he saw him next, and he was so worked up I believed him.
Maybe this time would be different.
When Jay showed up the next day, however, Grandpa acted as if nothing serious had happened. He invited Jay in with a jovial smile, offered him a beer, and they went to the garage to talk about cars and fixing the windshield. I sat on the back porch, listening to them, hearing their laughter and jokes about women being impossible and always starting crap. Their words cut deeper than shattered windshield glass. If my mom’s own father was taking Jay’s side, treating him like a buddy, and putting his own daughter down, what chance did we have of ever escaping?
It seemed impossible.
Nowhere was safe, at least not long term.
In the three years since Mom married Jay, we’d fled so many times I lost count after the first dozen. It was an endless cycle. We’d escape, hide at a family member’s house for a day or two, then he’d find us. He’d put on his good ol’ country boy act in front of others, beg and sob, and make promises like going to church or rehab. Mom wanting to believe him and feeling like a burden to whoever we stayed with, would return.
No one seemed to care much about our predicament, and why would they? Taking sides meant possibly losing both or more, so they normalized chaos to keep the peace. Abuse was generational, along with poverty, drug use, alcoholism, and rural isolation. Most women weren’t allowed to work, had multiple children, and no money of their own, forcing complete dependency. It was just the way things were. Doing anything serious to change the cycle would mean giving up everything and everyone they knew their entire lives.
The hand that hit them also kept them fed.
Such was the case for my mom.
***
The next time I’d see Grandpa was on Friday, January 3rd, 1997. It was the last weekend before my brother and I were to return to school from winter break, and two months after the windshield incident. I didn’t know it yet, but it’d be the day our lives would change forever.
I’d spent all morning in the small bedroom I shared with my brother, Daniel, sitting on our twin-sized bed, under blankets, trying not to move or breathe too loudly. Mom and Jay were fighting again because Jay insisted on burning creosote-coated railroad ties in the wood stove, and Mom was accusing him of trying to kill us. All we could do was stay out of the way. If we intervened, he’d turn his fists or belt on us, and Mom would have it worse by trying to spare us.
Finally, a honk sounded in the distance.
Violence echoed from the walls in the silence that followed.
Grandpa had arrived with his tow truck, as planned, to help haul our old car off to a salvage yard for some much-needed cash. The windshield never got fixed. Instead, Jay had fun doing donuts with it until the motor blew up. He still had his truck, and said that was enough, despite that we all couldn’t ride in it at the same time.
For the next half hour, I listened to them chatting and laughing outside my bedroom window as they hooked the car up to the truck. We were told to stay in bed and pretend we were sick if Grandpa came inside, but he never did. We could’ve been dead for all he knew, but Grandpa didn’t ask about us once.
Soon enough, the truck’s roar faded down the gravel road. Jay was gone, and it was safe to exist for a while. As Daniel and I exited our bedroom, Mom sprang into action, swinging open kitchen cabinets, yanking out plastic shopping bags, baby bottles, and a can of formula powder. I thought we’d have some peace for a few hours, but I could see that wasn’t in Mom’s plans.
“Where are we going?”
Mom turned to me, her green eyes glowing in contrast to the dark circles and bruises surrounding them.
“We’re leaving. Better use the bathroom bucket before we go. We need to get as far away as possible before he gets back.”
“Are we taking Jay’s truck?”
She shook her head.
“No. He took the keys with him. We’ll have to walk. Go get some layers on–at least three–and help your little brothers. Be quick about it, Heather!”
My mind was a cyclone of questions, but I fell silent and did as asked.
Daniel was all giggles and hops as we got ready, bursting at the seams to play outside. Meanwhile, my stomach was free-falling through a black hole. I hadn’t a clue where we were going, nor how we were going to get anywhere by walking. Besides Jay’s dad, who lived right up the hill from us, the nearest neighbor was miles away, and we didn’t have a phone to call anyone to come get us. A blanket of snow and ice stretched across the forty-acre field outside our trailer, which was encompassed by endless, rolling woods. Also, Mom was five months pregnant, and my youngest brother, William, was still wobbly on his legs.
I couldn’t fathom getting very far, and there’d be hell to pay if he caught us. Still, I hoped this time would be different.
Just like every other time.
Once we were all dressed and ready, I sat on our old, dirty couch with my brothers and waited for Mom, who bustled about, placing things like cloth diapers and half-used candles into a plastic shopping bag. With no TV for distraction, nor electricity to power one if we had, I stared at the wood-panel walls, wondering if it would be the last time I’d see them. A small section in our living room had an unfinished mural of an autumn forest, which Mom had been painting until Jay punched a hole in the center. He’d bought her the paints for her birthday, but decided he didn’t like her spending so much time on something that didn’t involve him.
When we were all ready to go and waiting by the front door, Mom did a last-minute search through the bag hanging from the crook of her elbow, making certain she didn’t forget anything.
“How are we getting over the gate without Theo hearing?” I asked, referring to Jay’s dad, whose house sat right beside the chain-locked field gate.
Theo let us use the well pump in his backyard to fill jugs with water, and allowed the usage of an extension cord from his house to run a fan during the hottest days of summer, but that was the limit of his help. As for our constant bruises and almost daily screaming, he might as well have been deaf and blind.
“We’re not going that way. The road’s too risky. Jay will find us, or someone’ll see us and tell him.”
“So, we’re going through the woods?”
She nodded, a deep crease etched between her brows as she picked William up and planted him on her hip.
A shiver ran through me. We’d never escaped through the woods before. Mom attempted it once during the summer, mid-fight with Jay, but we didn’t get far. He came after us, bellowing threats, and Daniel ran back to him, terrified of getting punished.
“It’s almost noon already. Let’s get moving.” Frigid air hit my face as Mom opened the front door. “Follow me. Quietly.”
I tip-toed down icy stairs made up of stacked bricks, but stealth was impossible when I reached the bottom. My feet crunched ankle-deep snow as we trudged behind Mom, who led us to the side of the trailer facing the woods, out of Theo’s line of view.
I glanced at Daniel, who grinned, not quite understanding the gravity of the situation yet as he blew out a huge white breath and proclaimed, “I’m a dragon! Roar!”
Pressing a finger to my lips, I shook my head. He stuck his tongue out at me and continued to blow big dragon breaths, but without the commentary.
An old, rusty barbed wire fence separated us from the tree line. Mom stepped on the bottom strand with her boot and held the one above it up with her hand, creating a small opening to crawl through. When Daniel and I were on the other side, Mom handed William over the fence to me and climbed through to join us.
She immediately moved forward, leading us deeper into the heart of the woods. It confused me because there were no houses in the direction we were going.
“Why are we going this way?”
“We need to stay out of view. If we can see people’s houses, they can see us too. We have to keep a safe distance.”
“Are we going to Granny’s?”
Granny wasn’t my grandma, but an older woman in her sixties. She was our landlord for a short time, before Jay bought our current trailer for $350 from a family friend and parked it on his dad’s land. I never knew her real name because everyone just called her Granny. She was always nice to me, even babysat me and Daniel when Mom was in the hospital giving birth to William. Her house was the closest to us on the road we lived on, so I figured that’s where we were going.
Mom shook her head.
“We’re going to that big white house up past Granny’s, near the crossroads.”
My heart jumped into my throat. Not only was it far away—at least four miles by road—but we didn’t know them at all. They’d only moved in at the beginning of last year, when we still lived beside Granny’s. Once, they’d left a used swing set in our driveway. Daniel and I were thrilled, but Jay got angry they didn’t ask first or introduce themselves. All I knew was they had a teenage daughter who rode our school bus, and they were rich compared to us. Jay called them ‘snobby city slickers’. Shame and embarrassment rushed through me at what they might think of us when we showed up at their door out of nowhere.
“But we don’t know them!”
“Exactly. It’s the only place Jay might not find us. It’s our only option.”
My gut tied itself in knots, but I knew she was right. Still, I wondered how they’d react or if they’d even help. I asked no more questions, however, because Mom became distracted by Daniel, who started throwing snowballs at us and kept running ahead. In a stern tone, Mom told him to stop, to not get himself all wet because he’d freeze, and to slow down or he’d slip on ice. It had little effect, though, because William’s baby giggles and my protests only enticed him.
As we walked further into the woods, I kept glancing over my shoulder, expecting to see Jay behind us.
It reminded me of a family hike we took on Christmas morning the previous year. Mom was due to have William in February, but Jay wanted him born on Christmas, and figured a long winter hike might help induce labor. He brought a rifle along, just in case he found ‘something worth shooting along the way’. We walked ahead, as he ordered, and he ducked off into the woods to hunt.
Every time he’d shoot, I became hyper-aware of my body, having to assure myself that if a bullet hit me, I’d feel it.
***
An hour and a half into our journey, we got lost.
Mom wouldn’t admit to such as to not alarm us, but I could tell. She kept stopping, her eyes darting, searching for familiarity in a forest of barren trees which all looked the same.
William was getting fussy, and Daniel kept asking to go back home, having spent all his initial energy. But even if we wanted to, there was no way of knowing which direction to go.
Cold competed with our body heat, having seeped all the warmth from our layers. My lips and nose were so chapped it hurt to breathe, and the wind burnt my face like hot needles. Every deep valley we walked through was like swimming in a pool of ice water. My body wouldn’t stop shivering.
Mom refused to let us rest, even for a minute, saying we’d freeze to death if we stayed still for too long. Images of my favorite feral cat, a white Persian who I’d tamed enough to eat food from my hand, kept popping into my head. I’d discovered him frozen stiff to the inside rim of a tractor tire only a couple weeks ago, curled up as if he’d just gone to sleep.
We had to keep walking, no matter how much our bodies protested for rest, or we’d suffer the same fate.
Finally, around thirty minutes later, we found a landmark we recognized–a foundation of rocky ruins, located in the woods right behind what we called ‘the conservation lake’, which was really just a big fishing pond. It was also the place where Mom married Jay.
We knew where we were now, and it was nearly half-way to our destination.
I laughed in relief, and so did Mom.
We were cut short, however, by the unmistakable growl of my stepdad’s truck.
In an instant, we dropped to the ground. It was unlikely he’d see us from the road, considering how thick in the woods we were, but we weren’t taking chances. We looked at each other with wide eyes, remaining quiet until he drove further away.
Then we got up and kept going, a newfound urgency in every step.
***
Beside the conservation lake was a logging area, which meant traversing through a lot of empty land and tree stumps. I was wearing a shiny purple coat and felt like a walking target. Jay could spot us if he looked hard enough, but it didn’t seem he was searching towards the woods yet. He’d discovered us missing, for sure, but judging by the way his motor kept stopping and starting every few minutes, he’d assumed we’d gone to a neighbor’s house and was asking if they’d seen us. Still, every time he was nearby, we’d fall to our bellies like soldiers in trenches.
***
We’d made it past the logging area, and were now behind Granny’s. I could see her small house and the two trailers beside it.
By this point, our clothes, shoes, and socks were soaked through with melted snow, and the cold had worked its way into our bones. My hands were numb, achy, and burned, and were covered in scratches from having to crawl up hills and grab on to trees and rocks. Gripping anything was so excruciating it brought tears to my eyes.
“Maybe we should just go to Granny’s.”
“No.” Mom shook her head, her jaw clenched and eyes narrowed. “We didn’t come all this way for nothing. He’ll find us there and you know how he’ll be. He already stopped there once. We need to keep going. We’re almost there.”
“It’s so cold, though!”
“I’m turning into a snowman!” Daniel piped up in agreement, his teeth chattering with the same vigor as mine. “I wanna go home!”
“See that big hill right up there? See the sun at the top?” Mom pointed straight ahead to what might as well have been a mountain to me. “It’ll be like the warmest day of spring when we get there. I promise. Just one step in front of the other.”
I kept my eyes on the sun as we continued, imagining its beams warming me, and it helped distract from the pain.
When we reached the top of the hill, it was just as Mom said. It felt like spring! In reality, it was only a few degrees warmer than freezing, but it was enough to defrost us a bit. The rays felt like warm arms enveloping me, and I dreaded leaving their embrace. The valleys were already dark with evening shadows, though. We had to keep going, or we’d be stuck in the middle of nowhere, with no light at all to guide or warm us.
Mom steadied herself for the descent, switching William from one hip to the next, flexing her hands and arms to bring blood back into them.
When she turned to take the first step down, the screaming began.
Jay was still quite a distance away, so I couldn’t understand his words. His tone was livid, though. I could imagine him as if he were right in front of me: hanging halfway out his rolled-down window, hollering with all his might, spit flying everywhere with foam at the corners of his mouth. Even the rev of his truck approaching sounded like a threat. By this time, he’d realized we weren’t at any of the neighbors’ houses. His eyes were now on the woods, hunting for any sign of us.
I fell to my knees on instinct, ready to become one with the ground again, and Daniel did the same. His truck was so close, I could feel the vibration of its motor.
Then, Mom screamed.
I glanced up with wide eyes.
She and William were gone!
Panic surged through me as I jumped to my feet. Mom had slipped and tumbled down the hill, which was fifty-feet to the bottom and more like a cliff. What if they were injured? What if they were dead? How would I get out of the woods alone? Who would I run to for help? Would I even make it, or would I get lost? I hadn’t a clue where we were. Nothing was familiar, and it was almost dark. Was this how it would end? With all of us freezing to death in the middle of the woods?
Jay was further down the road now, but I could still hear him. For a second, I considered screaming for him. Sure, there’d be hell to pay, but at least we wouldn’t all die of exposure—that is, if Mom and William weren’t already dead.
In a flash, I began skidding down the slope on my behind. Daniel was crying, just as worried as me, as he followed my lead.
I was halfway to the bottom when Mom sat up and took a deep breath. Cotton protruded from a gash in the back of her coat and the plastic bag had ripped open in the fall. A trail of yellow baby formula sank into the snow. William was still in her arms, but I couldn’t see his face. He wasn’t crying.
Mom stood up, one arm still holding my baby brother and her other hand rubbing her rounded belly. William gazed at me with excitement over her shoulder, a smile on his face as if they’d just gone down a slide at a playground.
“I’m okay! Just got the wind knocked out of me,” Mom reassured, though she winced as she bent down to retrieve a baby bottle from the ground. She stuffed it in her coat pocket and left the rest of the contents where they were. “Come on. We have to keep going. We’re almost there.”
Maybe it was the lingering adrenaline and shock, but I couldn’t feel the cold or pain in my body anymore after that. My mind had gone into auto-pilot, and it was as if my feet were moving of their own accord.
The next thing I remember was seeing the back of the neighbor’s white two-story house.
I wanted to run to it, but it was impossible. We were in a gully and it sat on the edge of a steep cliff with an abrupt drop-off. We had to retract our steps, move closer to the road, and then go up the hill at an angle we could navigate easier.
Everything was silent, as if nature was holding its breath along with us.
Jay was taking a break or was so far away we couldn’t hear him. I trembled with anticipation and fear, knowing that if he came this way, he’d see us for sure.
“We’re going to take the road. It’s only a small distance. When I say go, run straight to the house and don’t look back. Run faster than you ever have! Hear me?” Mom raised her brows at me and Daniel, her voice shaky but determined.
We nodded.
As soon as the front of the house became visible, its Christmas lights twinkling, Mom said the word and we all but flew to the front porch.
Mom pounded on their door. My eyes darted up and down the road, hoping Jay wouldn’t pop out of nowhere like a monster in a horror movie. I kept fearing the worst. What if they weren’t home? What if they turned us away? It was only a minute or two before the door opened, but it seemed like forever.
A middle-aged woman with short blond hair and kind brown eyes stood in the doorway. She took one look at us–chattering, dirty, and disheveled–and waved us all inside her home before Mom could say anything.
Tears rolled down my cheeks as we stepped inside.
We’d made it.
We actually made it.
Mom stood in the foyer, explaining everything to the woman, who introduced herself as Mary. Her teenage daughter, Chloe, led me and my brothers to their living room, where we sat on a clean, comfy sofa. She brought us blankets, offered us food and drinks, and turned the TV on to Nickelodeon. It was all surreal to me. What would it be like to live as they did? To not only have a television and electricity, but also afford such an extravagance as cable TV and not think twice about it.
“Should I call the police?” Mary asked Mom.
Mom shook her head.
“They won’t help. One of Jay’s best friends is the chief of police. I have four full orders of protection, but they don’t do any good. Last time the police were called, they refused to arrest him without taking me in, too.”
I’d been the one who called the cops.
My stepdad was trying to choke my mom to death, and she was scratching him bloody, trying to get him to let go. I ran over to Granny’s and called 911. When the police arrived, they refused to do anything without arresting Mom as well. It was a domestic dispute. Both had injuries, and in their view, both were culpable. Calling the police had only helped Jay. It let him know what he could get away with.
***
My brothers soon fell asleep, exhausted from the day, but I was wide awake. Every inch of my body throbbed, burned, and itched as it thawed. Their house was warm, and I was wrapped in a thick blanket, yet I shivered and couldn’t seem to shake the chill. It was as if the marrow in my bones had frozen solid. I wondered if I’d ever feel normal again.
Every so often, I’d hear Jay’s truck go by and I’d have to remind myself we were safe. He wouldn’t find us there. I wondered what Mom had planned; where we were going after this. We couldn’t stay in a stranger’s house forever, no matter how nice they were.
I listened to Mom speaking on the phone to her aunt, who lived in Florida. Though I’d never met her before, I knew she escaped an abusive spouse similarly in the 1970s. Mom had told me stories of what she’d gone through, how she’d had enough, and fled to another state with her children. It always gave me hope perhaps we could do the same.
Unfortunately, while sympathetic, she couldn’t help us. We were too far away, had no money to get there, and she wasn’t in a position to take us in.
Mom placed her head in her hands when she got off the phone and wept as she tried to think of an alternative.
Mary then asked, “Have you tried a Safehouse? I know there’s one in St. Louis. I can drive you there, if you’d like.”
“You’d do that?” Mom asked, eyes wide with new hope–and also fear. Coming from a small township of less than fifteen hundred people, the thought of going to a city as big as St. Louis, and living there, was terrifying. It was our only option, however, and it was better than returning to Jay.
Mary nodded.
“Best see if they have room first. Let me get a phone book and find the number real quick.”
As soon as she left the room, we all heard Jay’s truck again.
It came to a stop right outside the house. A second later, the truck door slammed. Everything fell silent aside from the cartoons playing on the television, which Chloe quickly changed to MTV. Mom rushed into the living room, sat next to me, and held me in a tight half-hug. It was strange how such a cozy home suddenly felt no different from being in the woods.
Jay knocked on the front door.
I closed my eyes and held my breath as Mary opened it.
“Have you seen a woman and three kids around here?” Jay asked, his voice gruff and accusing.
“No, not at all.”
The curtains had been drawn since we arrived and there was a wall between the foyer and living room, so I knew he couldn’t see us from where he stood on the porch. Still, it seemed like he could sense we were there.
Mom was trembling like an earthquake, and so was I.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. It’d be pretty out of the ordinary to see a woman and kids walking out in this weather! I think I’d remember it.” Mary laughed, but Jay didn’t.
“Can I come in and make a call?”
“No. Sorry. My daughter’s on the internet and the phone-line is all tied up at the moment. Been waiting to make a call all evening myself.”
“It’s an emergency!”
“Again, I’m sorry, but—”
“Do you have a piece of paper and a pen I could write a phone number on, just in case you see them or they wind up coming here?”
“Sure. Hold on one moment. I’ll be right back.” Mary closed the door and retrieved what he asked for. Jay said nothing when she came back, just wrote his dad’s number, handed it to her, then left.
***
Making certain it was safe, we waited until two in the morning before going anywhere.
We hadn’t heard Jay for a few hours, but we still sprinted to Mary’s double-cab truck, feeling exposed and vulnerable the instant we stepped outside.
Mary and Chloe sat in the front, and we hid in the back.
The trip to St. Louis took a little over an hour, but all I can remember from the journey was Chloe playing Macarena and teaching me the dance as best as she could from a seated position. I also recall being petrified to my core every time headlights followed behind us.
When we got to St. Louis, Mom made a call on a payphone, and we waited in a Walmart parking lot until a black SUV with tinted windows pulled up to transport us to the Safehouse. Before parting ways, we thanked Mary and Chloe multiple times, giving them both big hugs of gratitude, but it didn’t seem like enough for what they’d done for us. They’d gotten us to safety, put themselves at risk with smiles on their faces, and asked for nothing in return.
Complete strangers had helped us more than people we’d known our entire lives. They’d given us a way out when all seemed impossible.
This wouldn’t be the end of our escape, though.
It was just the beginning.
