The Mom Who Did Not Follow Her Own Advice, a story

Dawn breaks in the small town of Kankakee, Illinois and a farmer rises to milk his cows. A mother makes her way to the kitchen to cook breakfast for her family. A mug of coffee in hand, a truck driver climbs into the cab of his rig. And a young woman regains consciousness in a basement, strapped to a toilet chair.

She is blindfolded, thick, sticky tape wrapped tightly around her head, a strip over her mouth. Her arms and legs are rubbed raw and bleeding. Off and on all night, she’d tried to escape the ropes that bind her.

She cringes at the squirting sound as her bowels release, but she has no choice. She slumps forward, quietly crying. She is afraid she will not make it out of here alive. There’s a sound and she sits up, rigid with fear. The door at the top of the stairs is opening, followed by the heavy clomp-clomp of footsteps. The footsteps draw closer, closer, and the young woman’s stomach clenches in revulsion at the hot, stale breath in her face.

“So how does it feel, being helpless like your little girl? You are going to go through everything she went through and much, much more. You’re just lucky I’ve got to go to work. But oh, aren’t we going to have some fun tonight! ”

Brutal laughter follows this onslaught, as suddenly the tape is ripped from the young woman’s mouth. Scalding gruel, like Cream of Wheat, is poured down her throat. She doesn’t care; she swallows in huge gulps, excess flowing over her chin. She hasn’t eaten since breakfast yesterday, in the roadside cafĂ© where this nightmare began. She almost wants to laugh. How many times has she told her daughter not to talk to strangers?

Pills are shoved in behind the food, a small sip of water, and the tape is back in place. “Now you be a good girl while I’m gone, and don’t you go anywhere.” Her captor laughter is pure hatred.

The young woman hears footsteps receding, moving back up the stairs. She lays her head on her chest and cries until she passes out.