Secrets Beneath

This is the story I thought I would never tell. Growing up in Texas I was a good ranch girl, good Christian, and good daughter. I was polite and demure. I grew up in a normal ranching family and had a normal childhood.

The year I turned 16 changed that. One particularly dark night on the ranch I woke suddenly and realized I had forgotten something in the barn. Something that would destroy my peaceful little family. I threw a hoodie on over my pajamas and snuck down the stairs, careful not to hit any of the creaks that the old house had.

Walking towards the huge sagging old red barn I smiled to myself. How many wonderful memories I had had there? My friends and I had built a fort out of straw bales and spent hours playing in there. Most of my firsts happened in that barn. My first games of truth and dare and spin the bottle, my first kiss, and yesterday knowing it was the perfect time and place..my first time having sex. Oh, the thought of it brought a smile to my face and a tingling between my legs. It had been amazing, not at all what my friends had described! I could not wait to do it again and again, but I had forgotten my bra in the barn and if my Pa found it in the morning I would be grounded until the end of time, and he would burn down my beloved fort. I had a skip in my step as I came up closer to the barn.

A noise had me stop and hide behind an old, gnarled apple tree. There were always noises in the dark on the ranch but this one had me holding my breath and drenched in cold sweat. It was eerie and dark and unnatural. I wanted to run back to the safety of my bed. Sometimes I still wish I had of done that. The light on in the barn combined with the sound had me curious. I walked cautiously, slowly and without a sound until I got to the barn door. I looked past the dark fort and into the light and what I saw and heard broke something deep inside me.

There, on the back wall, where my friends and I often played darts and threw axes, was a young boy, maybe five years old hung on the wall by his wrists. He was bleeding and you could see where he had peed himself. His eyes lit up a bit when he saw me. Thank God the monster standing in front of him with a whip in his hand had not noticed.

The monster laughed. It sounded familiar. I was frozen in place. My mind could not grasp what was happening. I made no sound. No movement. I am not even sure I was breathing. The man told him he was going to rape him. He told him very slowly, disgustingly detailed, very gruesome things he was going to do to him. The boys’ eyes went from hope, when he had first seen me to betrayal, because I wasn’t helping, to blank, like his soul left his body. I was still stuck, my mind could not accept what happening, I watched like I was floating above the scene, not in my body at all.

The monster undid his zipper. ZZZZZZIIIIIIIPPPPPP and I was back in my body and just as the monster chuckled with glee I snapped into action. I grabbed the closest weapon, a pitchfork and ran towards it, I stabbed it into him over and over and as he screamed, and gurgled and reached for the boy, I plunged it through his heart. He grasped at the boy’s foot and fell to the ground. Everything was fuzzy, like I was watching a black and white movie. I felt like I was in slow motion as I took the boy down from the wall. He was shaking and sobbing and wrapped around my body so tightly I had a hard time running to the house. “Mom!” I yelled. “Come quick!” Mom ran down the stairs in her nightgown and looked at me like I was a monster! “Mom help us!” I cried in confusion.

“What have you done!?” She yelled and shoved me hard. “Where is Pa? What did you do to him? I will kill you bitch!” I stumbled and gasped. Pa? Oh God! The monster was Pa!! I heard the laugh in my head again and knew for certain that I had just repeatedly stabbed my Pa through the heart with a pitchfork. Mom looked at me with such hatred that I shuddered and backed away, protecting the boy. She grabbed the shotgun and first aid kit from the front door “I will take care of Pa and be back to take care of the two of you!” She threatened. I knew what would happen if I stayed. I waited until she was out of sight and grabbed Pa’s truck keys and ran to the driveway. The boy would not let go of me. I had to drive with him wrapped around me as I spun out of the driveway and headed towards the nearest town that was 45 minutes away. I sobbed as I drove, this little boy wrapped around me like I was his lifeline, checking the review mirror, knowing mom would come looking for me once she realized Pa was dead.

I pulled up in front of the hospital, not sure if I should be there or the police station, but I knew boy needed medical attention. As I walked up to the sliding doors, I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection. My hair and face were matted in blood, my skin white and my eyes looked wild. A nurse met us at the doors and tried to pry boy off of me, but he would not budge. He just whimpered. She tried to find where the blood was coming from that coated me from head to toe. She wouldn’t find a scratch on me. I told her my story and within minutes there were cops and doctors and social workers all looking for answers I did not have. But boy did.

It took a while to get him to let go of me to get checked out. He would not let go of my hand. He had two broken wrists, several broken ribs, he was malnourished, and his body was covered in whip marks and burns. My mind could not comprehend what had happened. I heard the sheriff ask the nurse if I was “dim.” I finally made just enough sense and gave enough information for them to go out to the ranch to find Pa’s body. Mom had not chased us, she had run. Packed her stuff and was just gone.

By morning boy was talking enough to tell the police that there were several other kids being held beneath the barn. That he thought he had been down there for five sleeps. He had been taken from his home along with his older sister and his parents were murdered and their house lit on fire. They had traveled more than five sleeps. He knew that because he could only count to five. His age. Tears rolled down my face as he shakily told his story. The policeman taking his statement had to walk away, rage showing in his face.

When the police and FBI got to the barn, the found 53 children down there. All beaten and half starving. Ambulances showed up one after another to hydrate and treat them. A thorough search of the house and barn showed that they had been one of many holding spots for black market children for the last 25 years, thousands of kids went through that barn, and I did not have a clue. I had so many questions that no one had answers for. How did I miss it? And mom knew? I hung on tightly to boy. How many more had Pa beaten and raped over the years while I was sound asleep believing I had this perfect life? How many had died right beneath me while a play games and made love right above them? And what would happen to me and boy now?

A lady police officer that I hadn’t seen before came and sat down beside us. “How much of your life do you remember with mom and Pa?” “All of it, I think. I remember everything from kindergarten up but not a lot from before.”

“We can not find any record of your birth. No hospital records, birth charts. Nothing. Did mom ever talk about your birth? When you started walking? Your first word?” My mind quit again. Maybe I was dim. I had no memories of any of this. Should I? Why didn’t I? Mom never talked about her pregnancy…It was flickering, the memories, the whispered conversations… I was not really theirs. As the realization hit me, I froze. If they were not my parents who is? Where am I from? Are my parents alive? I tried to speak but my throat was dry and the words just stuck. Boy (whose name we just found out was Juan) held me tightly. He did not understand what was going on but still understood my reaction…disbelief, fear, anger, confusion, and shame. How did I not know any of this?

The lady officer explained that she believed mom stole me from one of the shipments and lied about me being theirs because the men is charge would allow rape and murder of their property but not outright theft. She figured I was younger than most when I was kidnapped. The word kidnapped sent shivers down my spine. Boy gripped my hand tighter. They had found my parents. They were on their way, and we were going to be put into protective custody. Even though I had no idea what had been going the leaders of the trafficking ring would be looking for me and boy, we were still their property.

It seemed like hours or seconds, I couldn’t decide, before my parents walked through the doors. They were searched and interrogated before they were allowed to see me. With tears flooding their eyes, they grasped at me and held me so tight I couldn’t breathe. It was awkward. They were strangers to me. I wanted to return the love I saw beaming from them, but I didn’t know them any more than I knew the guards outside. We sat and talked for hours, they explained that their car had been hijacked and I was in the back seat. They never quit looking for me. Boy curled up in my lap and slept while I stroked his head. Mom and Dad looked at each other and without a word dad left and I could see him talking to the lady officer. He was very animated and when he came back in he looked quite proud of himself “Honey, I have arranged for Juan and his sister to come into protective custody with us. Their parents were killed, and Juan is only five and his sister six. They have no where to go. When she is released, we will all leave together. Is that ok with you? We will be a family?” He looked like he wanted it so bad. He was nervous though waiting for my answer. I nodded yes. A family. A safe new beginning. Tears ran down my face as I realized what this would mean for all of us.

I have never driven past a red barn again without wondering what horrors could be hidden beneath, what monsters could be walking around in plain sight. I silently advocated against child trafficking all my adult life. “Mom” and the black-market cartel never quit looking for us and we moved often, but we stayed together – the stolen children.