A Stolen Life (8 page)

The “runs” were some of the most horrible moments of my life. I can’t think of a good moment even when a “run” was over. I always knew there’d be a next time. I could see no end in sight. The horridness of being alone was always there, too. I really hated and despised it when he would leave me tied up in a certain position by those eye hooks that screw into the wall. He would screw them into the wall and then lift my legs with straps in different positions. One night he had been working on the position, trying to get it right for hours and realized he needed to go pick up Nancy from the nightshift where she worked a convalescent home. He said he was just going to leave me tied up because it was the perfect position. He was gone for a while. My legs were in such an awkward position, I got leg cramps and the straps hurt my ankles. I was relieved when he got back, I wanted to get it over with so I could be done and go to bed. Those were
horrible times. I can’t believe I ever felt sorry for him. He was always saying what a good person he was and he didn’t know how else to help his problem. I needed to help him so others wouldn’t be hurt. He said, society didn’t help people like him and that there were a lot of men out there in the world with the same problem as his. He would apologize to me. He would cry after he was done fucking me and beg my forgiveness. He said it would make him feel better. For a reason I can’t name, I knew in those moments that it was important to my survival that I never truly show how much I was hurting inside. I don’t know why, but after that I kept my feelings to myself.

Years later I learned it’s the little things that add up to make a person. Back then I couldn’t see the little things that added up to the bigger picture of who Phillip was on the inside. I only saw what he wanted me to see. And that was a misunderstood guy with a problem that nobody wanted to help him with. I think he felt life was cheating him of what he wanted. Deep inside Phillip Garrido is a very selfish man, looking only to gratify himself as much as possible while still projecting to the world a selfless and caring man.

The first year was the worst. I hated when he would videotape me and him having sex or me doing some other degrading thing. The camera would always have to be in the right spot and positioned just right. It was horrible. He would always assure me that the videos were just for him and nobody else would ever see them. He used them, he said, to give me a break. Years later when the sex became not as frequent, he said that he had destroyed the tapes and got rid of them. I believed him. Little did I know they were still on the property, only partly destroyed.

We called the first room I was taken to when Phillip kidnapped me the “studio” and later when the “runs” (long days of sex) started and he introduced me to the second building in the backyard, we called that “next door.”

Funny, how I can look back now, and notice how the “secret backyard” didn’t really look so “secret.” It wasn’t even that well hidden. I was in the middle of a neighborhood. There were neighbors all around; the only thing that was camouflaged was the gate leading to the second backyard. I can’t understand why Phillip’s parole officers didn’t know anything about the property and the size of it. It makes me believe no one cared or was even really looking for me. Below is a diagram.

I
’m so hungry that’s all I can think of. There is nothing good on television. It’s so nice having a TV to watch whenever I want to; I really shouldn’t complain. After the last “run,” he let me stay “next door.” It’s a lot bigger than the studio room I was in before. There is lots of stuff to explore in here. Phillip has started to call me Snoopy. When I asked him why he said because I ask a lot of questions and he knows I’ve been snooping around his desk in here. He laughs and doesn’t seem to mind. I wonder how he knew I had gone through his desk? It frightens me how he seems to know everything. This room has windows, too, but they have iron bars on them just like the door. He keeps the towels on them. At first when he let me stay in this room he would handcuff me to the pullout bed. It was really uncomfortable, but at least I got to watch the color TV. Now it’s been a few months and
he doesn’t handcuff me anymore. I can get up and walk around. I looked out the windows but can’t really see much out of them. I can see the studio, as Phillip calls it, from the outside. It looks like a barn to me. It’s brown wood with many panels. Lots of wires going to and from it. I like this room better. There is more room and it doesn’t feel as small as the other room.

Phillip is at the door. When he comes in, he says he has someone that wants to meet me. Behind him stands a short woman with long dark hair. Phillip introduces her as Nancy, his wife. Phillip wants us to be good friends. He tells me Nancy will bring me dinner for now. They don’t stay long. Phillip comes in a little while later and tells me that Nancy is just a little jealous of me but that she will come around to liking me in time if I am good and make an effort to encourage her to like me. I can’t believe he has a wife and that she helped him take me. I am young and still believed in love and that in a marriage you are faithful to each other. This is another new lesson. I figure she must be jealous because he is using me for sex instead of her. While Phillip was talking to me about Nancy, he says she doesn’t really like sex and that I am helping her out, too. I really hate it and wish I didn’t have to. I don’t understand why I have to help her.

The first time I was introduced to Nancy, I was glad for the company. Except at first she didn’t stay long. She started to bring me my meals. And Phillip would tell me that he was encouraging her to talk to me and be my friend but that she was jealous of me.

They got me a Nintendo, which is fun. I’m not as alone as I used to be. Nancy and Phillip sleep in the pullout couch. I have a pallet
on the floor. Nancy came in the other day and said she had been looking for a special bear for me and she said she finally found the perfect one. She hands me a soft, squishy purple bear. I told her I loved him and I would try to think of a name for him. I think I will name him Nurple Bear. I hug him close every night. I think Nancy is starting to like me more. I’m not really sure how I feel about her. She sometimes spends time with me and tells me about her job. She works with old people at a convalescent home. She has a favorite client. He’s an old Italian man named Mr. Giovetti. She likes when she gets to take care of him. She tells me that the family really appreciates the care she gives him. I hope she comes to bring me dinner soon.

Sometimes when Phillip stays up for days and days and goes on a “run,” he talks about bringing Nancy in to “party with us.” I do not like the sound of that at all. How could I look at her the same way if I had to have sex with her, too? That would be disgusting. I hope she feels the same way. Phillip says he’s been trying to convince her. I really pray that she doesn’t agree. Phillip also wants to watch his dog, Cesar, have sex with me. He says a dog’s penis is not as long as his and it wouldn’t hurt me as bad. I hope he is just talking and doesn’t mean he will actually bring his dog in. It’s one of the Dobermans that he said patrolled the backyard. He said the male, Cesar, is not very aggressive; it is the female, Hera, that was mean. He has thoughts and ideas that I have never thought of before. Why would anyone have sex with a dog? How did Phillip get such crazy ideas? I don’t want to be here. I want to go home to my mom.

There is a mini-fridge in here and they have put cartons of chocolate milk and regular milk. Phillip says his mother works
as a janitor at a school and she brings them home for him. There is also cereal for me to eat in the morning. Phillip loves cereal. I often hear him get up in the middle of the night having a bowl. It’s very annoying, because I don’t like being woken up in the middle of the night and he constantly hits the bowl with his spoon and makes a loud dinging, scraping sound. Sleep is the only escape I have. When I don’t dare think, I dare to dream.

The days are so boring. I wonder what Phillip does all day. I like to make things; with the empty cartons of milk I have figured out how to make a Barbie couch and chairs. I cut the sides and then tape them into a shape I like, add cotton balls for cushion, and then glue fabric on the outside and voilà! Instant Barbie furniture. Nancy brings me things that I ask for when she can. She brings me
Disney
magazine and
Highlights
magazine, too. Nancy gave me a Birthday Barbie a few days after my twelfth birthday. An odd thing happened on my actual birthday a few days ago. Phillip comes in while I am watching TV and they say that he and Nancy have a surprise for me. I get excited thinking that they remembered my birthday and thought they had a present for me. He tells me to close my eyes while Nancy comes in and I’m thinking she is hiding my present. When Phillip says I can open my eyes, I see Nancy sitting on the end of my bed with a slight grin on her face. She is staring right at me. I interpret this to mean something, but I’m not sure why she is staring at me so intently. I look around the room expecting to see something wrapped up, but I don’t see anything changed. Phillip says, “Well, can you find the surprise?” I get up to investigate the room. I finally sit back down and look at him and say I can’t find anything. He says, “No, silly, it’s right in front of you.” I look in front of me
and only see Nancy. I’m starting to feel really bad for not seeing my surprise that is supposed to be right in front of me. I shrug my shoulders and just sit and wait for them to tell me. All the while Nancy is turning her head this way and that and shaking it. Finally, Phillip points to Nancy and says, “Look at Nancy’s hair.” I look and see it’s not long like it used to be and it is highlighted with red streaks. Nancy tells me, “Surprise. I have a new hairdo that I wanted you to see.” I try to cover my disappointment with a smile and I tell her it looks great. I feel awkward and selfish for thinking that they had brought me something. I hope they don’t notice how disappointed I am.

I miss my mom. My mom used to make me Barbie clothes. She had just made me some new outfits right before I went away. I wonder what she is doing right now. Does she miss me as much as I miss her? I try really hard not to think of things that make me sad. I do like to replay memories of home in my head. I don’t want to forget. I’m afraid I won’t remember what my mom looks like. I don’t want to picture her in my head and yet at the same time I do. I miss the times when it used to be just me and her and she would scratch my back or make me macaroni and cheese. I miss her singing “You Are My Sunshine” to me and making me little things like Barbie clothes and kissing me good night.

I don’t want to forget times with my aunt Tina, too. Like the time my aunt Tina picked me up from school and took me to see the floats from the Rose parade. That is the last time I saw her before we moved to Tahoe. I posed for a picture for her that day. I probably looked so goofy with my tongue out as she snapped the picture. I miss her so much right now. She was always
there when I was little. She taught me how to make my first twist ponytail in my Barbies’ hair. When she moved out from my grandma and grandpa’s house where we lived together, she would still come and take me to her new place for a sleepover. Our favorite movie to watch together is
The Little Mermaid.
I wonder if she thinks of me. Will I ever see her again? Will anything ever be the way it’s supposed to be?

It wasn’t until I wrote the last paragraph on birthdays that I realized how little I remembered my own birthdays during my years of captivity. I think I told them about my birthday and that’s why Nancy gave me the birthday Barbie, but other than that I don’t remember anything about that day. The birthdays I do remember were the ones marked with the ironic gift of a new tent. During those early years there was no cake, no friends, and no memories to remember.