Escape from hell

Escape from hell

Rebecca needed to muster all her courage and energy. It was now, the moment of truth, the time had finally come and she was free eventually. But it wasn't over yet. She couldn't fail now, she had to keep running. Running for her life and freedom. If she got caught, the consequences would be fatal, it would be her doom. But that was not going to happen because she was focused in spite of her sore and bruised body. The streets were deserted, not a soul she could perceive. And a million thoughts drifted into her mind as she kept running. She remembered how she got kidnapped about a year ago, how desperately she fought to break free to no avail; the merciless beatings she had received for not complying to the monstruous things she was subjected to; the long hours of humiliation and agony; the fear experienced day after day, month after month. Another thought inundated her mind like a disastrous flood washing a whole town: "What have I done? Why me? Why has God allowed that this terrible ordeal happened to me?" She couldn't find an explanation or an answer to her questions, but there is something even more drastic and evil than the situation she had been in: that of the thousands of young women and girls like herself who have gone through the same or similar brutalities; some of them didn't even make it; some of them were captive for as long as they produced a profit, after that, they were discarded like a used item that serves no purpose anymore.

Now she could hear steps behind her, not knowing whether they were real sounds or her imagination. Maybe she was getting a bit paranoid because she was dead scared. Maybe she was being chased and she knew there would be no second chances.

Life would never be the same. She knew her mind would be troubled for a long time, maybe for the rest of her life. But she had to make it to safety. She was praying she could see a policeman or a police station but instead there was nothing but desolate damp streets in that cold night. The cold being the least of her concerns, she was hyperventilating anyway. Adrenaline had taken over and there was an immense determination in her deepest self to win this battle. Now she could hear the steps again more distinctly, so they were real. Her heart was pounding so hard that she thought it was going to explode. She was experiencing a combination of physical exhaustion and fear, but that fear was like burning fuel, strengthening all her muscles and will-power. However, her sight was gradually becoming blurred. Was she arriving at her boundary of fatigue? She didn't know and did not intend to ascertain that for a second . Her mind should only be focused on safety. In spite of her blurred sight, she could now detect a glitter at the end of the street but the steps behind her were getting louder and louder. It could be her last struggle and maybe she would be safe, maybe not. Either way, she was not going to give up now. "Keep running, Rebecca, you will make it," she muttered to herself with unrivalled determination.

In the meantime, nearly a thousand miles away, Rebecca's mother, Maria, was cooking for her husband and herself. Rebecca's parents had been falsely informed about three months ago that their daughter had been murdered, even though they never found the body. A man in his thirties had been accused and he pleaded guilty. Even today, in the 21st century, there are cases when the accused either admit accountability for crimes they didn't commit or suffer the inhumanity and barbarism of torture. Maria's suffering was inhumane, although not a physical one at first, it was beginning to affect her health to a great degree: sleepless nights crying for hours, tiredness had invaded her body and motivation to live diminished day by day. Depression, frustration, anger and desperation dwelled in her like a destructive deadly virus. She had done all she could possibly do to find Rebecca; she had played all her cards, contacted every possible source of hope, written dozens of letters; she had even asked God to swap her life for that of her daughter. But all her efforts were futile and the situation disheartening.

At least she still had her husband Roberto, with whom she had shared so many years. His suffering was immense as well and they both relied on each other for emotional support.

The meal was ready and they both sat at the table. Conversation was not as frequent as it used to be and quite often silence was only disrupted by the sounds of the television. They both started the meal while their eyes were locked on the box. Neither of them uttered a word until the phone startled them when it rang. Maria with a jolt, said: "I'll get it." She picked up the receiver and with a dull voice said: "hello. " As she listened to the person at the other end of the line, Maria gasped and her eyes widened as she heard the trembling and weepy voice of her daughter drawl: "mommy, it's me, I was kidnapped."

Roberto, stupefied, stood up so suddenly that his chair was knocked down on the floor and gaped at his wife as she was screaming and crying at the top of her voice, repeating the words "Rebecca, oh my God" over and over again. Then she added: "Where are you, darling?"

"I'm in a police station in Los Angeles. I escaped, I managed to escape."

"We love you, Rebecca. We'll come and pick you up, we'll take the first flight to Los Angeles."

"Mommy, I want to go home, I just want to go home."

Maria eventually turned to her husband and with watery eyes and tears running down her cheeks, said: "our little one is alive and safe."