My Story

No, it only means you’re stupid.

Mitchell waited as if he expected some kind of adulation for his excellent choice of names. Barzee didn’t say anything. I just shook my head.

Late that afternoon, Mitchell got dressed in the same clothes he had worn when he had gone to church on that Sunday morning back in November to identify his next victim. But he also spent a long time packing the disgusting green bags. Dark clothes. Rope. Duct tape. His long knife. Fingering the knife, he turned to me and smiled. “Shearjashub, do you remember this?” he asked with a sickening laugh, his voice low and gutteral.

Of course I recognized the knife! How many times had he flashed it as he threatened me? How many times had he stroked its edge as he reminded me what he was going to do to my family?

“Do you remember what I said to you that night I brought you away from your family?”

Of course I remembered what he had said: I have a knife at your neck. Don’t make a sound! Get up and come with me. They were the most terrifying words that I had ever heard.

He looked at me. I looked at him. He slipped the knife into his bag.

Evening was coming on and it was starting to get dark. A night breeze began to blow and the willows bent and swayed, their bony fingers lifting with the wind. It was a hot wind. Dry. I wiped a bit of sand out of my eyes.

Mitchell waited a few more minutes for darkness to completely settle, then, sighing wearily, got up and said good-bye.

Barzee and I settled down to do what we did most of the time now, which was wait. The evening passed so slowly. Then the night. It was vey dark. I remember the moon and stars were obscured by dust and clouds. We went to bed. I didn’t sleep. Hours passed. My stomach never settled. I was sick with dread. Then, very early in the morning, maybe just an hour or so before sunrise, we heard footsteps coming toward us. My heart beat wildly for a moment. What if Mitchell had been captured! What if he had told the police about me? What if I was being rescued?

The curtain parted and we saw Mitchell standing in the darkness. I quickly looked behind him. No one else was there.

“It is not time,” he said to announce his failure.

I almost laughed with joy. He had failed! He did not get her! I was giddy with relief.

“Just like with Abraham and Isaac, it was a trial of our faith,” he explained.

Barzee stood beside the tent, her face barely illuminated in the darkness. To me, she looked disappointed. She seemed to move toward him, but he walked past her and sat down. He placed his green bags on the ground and started pulling out some food. I was amazed. Every time I had food now, it felt like it was manna from heaven.

He placed a few sandwiches on the tarp. They were small and smashed from being stuffed in his bags. Looking at them, I knew they weren’t going to satisfy my hunger, but still, I was grateful for anything to eat. Barzee and I made a beeline for the food and started eating hungrily. While we ate, Mitchell talked.

“I made it to El Cajon and walked slowly to where she lives. It was very late by the time I got there. I circled around the house, looking for a way in. No open windows. No unlocked doors. But I continued searching, knowing that God would provide a way. Finally I found a sliding door around the back that was unlocked. I started to slide the door back. When I had opened it just a crack, I stopped to listen. I thought I heard something inside. I listened for a few seconds, but it was gone. Slowly, I continued to slide the door back. Once again, I heard the sound. A low rustle. I didn’t know what it was. But it went away again.

“I pushed the door back all the way and started to step inside. Suddenly, I froze. I realized what I was hearing. Snoring. A man was in the room! And he had to be a large man from the loud noise that he made.

“I realized I would never be able to find my new wife and get her past her father. So, knowing that God must have another plan”—and terrified at the thought of encountering a man much larger than you are, I thought—“I turned around and ran.

“But I didn’t want to come back empty-handed. I wanted you to know that I always think about you. So I stopped by an all-night grocery store, dug around to find enough change to buy some ham and mayo, then stopped by the church and got the last loaf of bread out of the box they keep in back.” He stopped and pointed proudly at the sandwiches.

I noticed there was not nearly a loaf of bread’s worth of sandwiches left. Which meant he hadn’t stopped to get us food because he was worried about us. He had stopped to get some food because he was hungry. And he’d eaten most of the sandwiches before he had come back to our camp.

Elizabeth Smart, Chris Stewart 's books