twenty minutes

twenty minutes can seem a lifetime.

that morning, he was in a rage, either still or again. it didn’t matter.

he drove her to work. she went into her office.

he sped away, tires screeching.

then he called her cell phone. she ignored it.

he called the office phone. once, twice, multiple times harassing her.

he was coming back and demanded she come outside.

not wanting to create a scene in her work, she agreed.

when she went to see what he wanted, he commanded her to get in the car.

she got in the car. with the door barely closed, he drove away.

clearly, what was going on with him had escalated to a new, extreme level.

in a matter of seconds, he had driven the car back onto the highway.

her attempts to escape the car were futile.

each time she tried, he reached across her body and held her back, pulling the door shut.

she screamed at him to let her out; he continued to threaten her.

he turned off the highway on to a side road with less traffic, less people to see, less people to help.

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photo credit n. leblanc

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

he had kidnapped her.

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photo credit n. leblanc

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

at one point, she realized the screaming she heard was her own voice.

how would she escape? she had to hear.

she quit screaming, going deep to the well of peace within.

she recalled jesus’ words.  “no harm will come to you.”

he became quieter, too.

then, he revealed his need; it was money.

he drove the car to the bank. she was to get money for him.

hands shaking, she walked up to the atm.

to her horror, it was not over yet.

he appeared behind her to see her bank balance.

she quickly took her card back without taking cash out.

he grabbed her hand, bending her fingers backwards.

she pulled away, walking backwards until she was in front of the café windows.

the police gathered there almost daily.

she looked to the right through the windows for them. they were there.

tears streaming down her cheeks, she motioned with her hand for them to come to her.

she mouthed the words, “help me!” to them.

in a moment, it was over.

half of the officers took her to safety inside. the other half arrested him.

in that moment, mercy and grace had come to save not only her life, but his, as well.

(copyright 2016 jane doe)

 

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increasing tension

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photo credit: pixabay

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

months had passed since his evening trips began.

tension increased daily.

peace was rare those days, laughter even more so.

she found solace at work.

his actions had profoundly affected his mind, his rest, his sleep.

he did not sleep. he did not rest. he was not well.

rage was his constant companion.

his face was dark, his features angry.

he did not speak.

asking questions was futile.

the situation grew worse.

one morning, an ugly demon took over his body and his voice on the commute to the city.

this demon was fear.

it taunted and threatened her.

she shrunk closer to the passenger door, looking straight ahead.

tears ran down her cheeks as it threatened to throw her out of the car.

she did not respond.

it told her it would make her disappear, that no one would ever find her body or any trace of her.

silently, she thought, ‘jesus, help.’

the tipping point was approaching.

(copyright 2016 jane doe)

bicycles

it was good then.

so good.

it was not perfect. it didn’t have to be.

he had a bicycle before she came.

she was gifted one by a lesbian couple.

that is another story.

they went everywhere.

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photo credit: pixabay

he was the tour guide, the protector, the man.

she was the perpetual tourist in this new land.

he was bigger than life.

he told crazy stories that made her laugh until she doubled over.

they masked the pain of the stories that were not funny.

she listened when he told those stories.

she saw his tears, felt his pain.

he listened to her stories.

he saw her tears, felt her pain.

even in that, there was nothing but open road before them.

it was good then.

so good.

(copyright 2016 jane doe)

 

 

the dark room and the darkroom

 

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photo credit: pixabay

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

this place was a dark room, and a darkroom.

she was afraid of the dark as a child.

now, it was the world she lived in.

she knew he wasn’t the enemy.

she knew where the trouble came from.

his demons liked the dark room, the isolation.

she knew what corners they lived in.

they shrank back when she walked by.

she knew jesus was here, too.

he lived in her heart.

spirit brought her verses as she prayed in tongues.

“no weapon formed against you will prosper.”

“greater is he that is in you than he that is in the world.”

“he is delivered out of the hand of the enemy by the blood of jesus.”

now was no time to quit.

in her weakness, he was forte.

light was developing in the dark room.

(copyright 2016 jane doe)