You have to help me – please. They’ve kidnapped my husband, and no one cares. Not one person is looking for him – not the police, not my former neighbors, not even my own daughter. I don’t know who I can turn to that will help me. The people around me pretend to help, but they don’t. My husband is my soulmate, and I miss him so much.
We were married for almost 15 years – we have a 14 year old daughter together. I love my husband so much, it’s been almost 2 years since I last saw him. I’ve always been told I have a great memory; I recall the first day I met him, and every detail of the last day I saw him.
We were coming home from dinner; no occasion, just a night out with my husband. That’s one of the things I love so much about him. Every day was an occasion. That night we went to dinner, our then 12 year old daughter was having a sleepover at her best friend’s.
Even after close to 15 years of marriage, I still get excited when we go out together. That night was no different, we had a lovely dinner at our favorite restaurant, then spent an hour sitting near the lake. As we were driving home, I started the conversation again about having another child, I explained that I was getting close to 40, and problems can occur with having a child that late. My husband smiled and nodded, finally accepting my argument.
When we got back to our house, we tried to open the garage door, but it wouldn’t open, so we parked on our driveway.
“Can you make me a cup of decaf coffee? I’ll see why the garage isn’t working.” my husband asked.
I nodded, unlocked the door and went inside. When I went inside, it was apparent why the garage wasn’t working. “Looks like the power is out!” I shouted to my husband as I tried to use the moonlight through the open windows to navigate to the kitchen.
“How am I suppose to make coffee without any electricity?” I thought to myself, when I suddenly walked right into an open kitchen drawer. The drawer caught me right in the gut and I caught my breath.
Then I heard my husband urgently shout. “Get out of the house! We’re being burglarized!” Then it made sense why we had no electricity. The burglars had cut off the power so our alarm system wouldn’t work.
I then heard every loud footsteps above me, then running down the stairs. I heard another set of footsteps coming from the garage - my husband’s. I actually get scared easily, but in that situation I reached in the open drawer that I bumped into and pulled out the chef’s knife to defend myself.
“Let me go!” I could hear my husband shout at the other man. “I SAID LET ME GO!”
I knew at this point they were kidnapping my husband. I couldn’t make out all the sounds – I was so scared. I just knew they were taking my husband, the person that I loved the most in the world. I heard more footsteps coming down the stairs, then sounds of shoving. Then one of the men came right at me! He turned the corner and tried to grab me by the arms but I managed to shake myself free. I thought of my husband. I thought what would happen to my child if this man were to kill me. I plunged that knife into him repeatedly until he stopped moving. Tears welled up in my face, I barely noticed that my own hands were bleeding, I had cut myself with the knife in the process.
I stammered to my feet and ran to the front door. I was bleeding and scared, but I would not let them just kidnap my husband! I got to the front door and fell onto the porch. My head was spinning, but I could make out a dark color SUV and 3 people inside – one of them was my husband.
That was two years ago. Now instead of being at my home. I am in a different place. I think they torture me here. Some of the people supposedly helping me say they know where my husband is. I tried to get the police to help me, but they wouldn’t help me. They said I killed a man that night. There was a trial - it was self-defense! The system is cruel. People kidnap my husband and I am the one locked in a small room every day.
The food, I am not even sure you can call it food, is terrible. I can’t get any sleep. The other prisoners scream every night. Occasionally, I’ll hear the guards go into one of the rooms and sedate one of them. They try to break you down in here. After 2 years, I feel myself breaking down every day.
Every morning. It doesn’t matter what day. Every morning I get questioned. They try to make me confess when I was defending myself. They don’t even care about my husband! I used to get so angry at their questions, but I’ve since “pretended” to co-operate. They said I could have access to computers if I co-operated with them.
This morning was the same as always. I get dragged and forced to sit in a metal chair, having conversations with the same guy every day.
“How are we this morning?”
“Fine.” I replied curtly.
The man fakes a smile and begins his daily diatribe. “I just want to remind you that we want you to understand..” He continues – but I tune him out. It’s hard not to sometimes. I think about my husband again – and how much I miss him. What I wouldn’t give to be next to him.
“Did you get a chance to see the man that you stabbed in your kitchen?” The man asked.
“We’ve been through this a thousand times.”
“Just indulge me please.”
I sigh. “Why aren’t we looking for my husband!”
The man lets out a sigh of his own. “Please.”
“Yes. A day after they kidnapped my husband, the police took me to the morgue to look at one of the kidnappers. I didn’t recognize him. I had never seen him before in my life. I don’t know why he would want to hurt me or take my husband.”
“Did the man hurt you that night?”
“He tried. He grabbed me, but I was able to defend myself.”
“He didn’t fight back. Why didn’t he right back?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can you describe him? His face?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. It’s been too long. I try to remember his face, but it’s blank.”
I see the man getting restless. He shifts more in his seat. “The police found a wallet on the man.”
“No.”
“No?”
I stare angrily at the man. Then soften my face remembering that I have to pretend to co-operate.
“Your daughter,” he continues, “she recognized the man..”
“Stop! You stop bringing my daughter into this! She is involved with this whole thing!” I try to stop them, but tears start coming down my face.
“How is your daughter involved?”
“You have to let me out of this place!” I whimper. “She said when I leave this please, she would take me to see him.”
He lets out a sympathetic sigh. I real one.
“When will you let me out of this prison John?!?” I stammered.
“Please call me Dr. Robert. You know very well this isn’t a prison, it’s a hospital.”
That was how that interrogation ended that day. A lot of them end like that. In none of them, do they offer to help me find my husband. Please you have to help me find my husband. I don’t even have to get out of here, I just want to know he’s safe. I need to know he’s safe.