He wanted me to know that He was still near. He wanted me to know that He controlled the Earth and all the heavens, that all things were in His hands. And if He could move the mountains, then he could do this thing for me. To Him it was a small thing—a terribly easy thing to do—but for me it was as powerful as if He had parted the sea.
This experience reminded me once again that God had not deserted me, that He was aware of my suffering and loneliness. And that assurance gave me hope. It helped me to keep my faith and gave me the strength that I needed to go on.
It also gave me something else to think about.
At the time, I had pretty much conceded that Mitchell might kill me. And if he didn’t kill me, then I was condemned to a life of suffering and captivity. But the appearance of the water seemed to indicate that God had another plan. It told me that the fight for freedom wasn’t over. God knew the end from the beginning and there was still hope for me.
In my life, I have come to believe there are lots of examples where God provides us little miracles to give us hope. Most of these experiences are not as obvious as waking up and finding a cup of water. Some of them are much more subtle. We may even have to look for His miracles along the way. But they are there. And they’re important when we are struggling with the challenging battles of this life.
21.
Happy Fourth of July
I spent more than six weeks tethered to the trees. Six weeks having a steel cable wrapped around my ankle. Six weeks of eating and sleeping and going to the bathroom with two people watching me. Six weeks of never moving more than a few feet beyond the center of the camp. That’s a long time to not have so much as a moment of privacy. It’s a long time to be cabled and raped every day by one captor while my other captor talked, sang, or read her scriptures nearby.
Once a week or so, Mitchell would uncable me long enough to allow me to go down to the spring to have the bucket of water poured over my head before being forced to carry the heavy containers of water back up the mountain. But that is the only time I was ever allowed to be free. And as soon as we got back to camp, it was snap, and I was cabled up again. Never would he reward me for good behavior or show me any sign of affection by allowing me to spend a single moment without being cabled to the trees. And even when I went with them down to get the water, I always had the ten-foot cable around my ankle, which meant he had complete control of me.
From the moment I was captured, I was a pawn in their hands. Naked. Hurting. Terrified of what was coming. Terrified of the thought that it was thirty years to go before he died. I had no dignity. No freedom. No power over my body. No power over what I ate, what I drank, what I heard, or what I read. It was endless hours of indoctrination—hearing about their journey, hearing of their god, hearing how smart Mitchell was and how he was the chosen one.
I was a prisoner in heart and mind and soul.
There was no way I could have endured this abuse without falling under his control.
And the worst of his manipulations was the fear that he instilled. Always the same script.
“If you ever try to run, I’m going to kill you,” he would hiss into my ear, his dry breath raising the hair on my neck.
“He’ll do it!” Barzee would pipe in, ever eager to prove how deadly her husband was. “He’s not kidding. He’ll kill you in a heartbeat!”
Mitchell would pull me a little closer. “And if you ever get away, I will come and kill your family. I know where they live. I know all about them, just like I knew about you. Think of your little sister. What a cute little girl. How old is she … maybe nine? And the little boy. He’s just a baby! Do you really think you can protect them? Do you really think the police can protect them? Sure, they might keep your family safe for a while, but they can’t do it forever. Time will pass and they’ll forget you. Other cases will come along. They have a lot to do. Eventually, they’ll move on. They’ll forget you and your family. But I won’t forget you. I’ll never forget your family. I’ll be waiting for them, Esther. Me. My friends. We’ll be waiting. Watching. Looking for our chance to kill them. And it will come. Sooner or later, it will come. And when it does, your entire family … every … single … one of them will be dead. And it will be your fault! Do you want that? Are you so selfish that you’d really kill your family just because you want to leave me? Think about that, Esther. Are you really that kind of person? Do you want their blood on your hands? If you think that you’re unhappy now, wait until you have the death of your family upon your shoulders. Imagine the guilt. The shame. Your family wants to live, the same as you do, but you’re going to take that from them, Esther, if you ever run away. I will come and kill them. And it will be your fault.”