The cabin was a total wreck, with its chimney covered with ice, its windows protected with extra layers of glass, and the interior temperature dropping dramatically. As I began to tear the place apart looking for any usable material, the hours dragged on, my fingers grew numb, and eventually I tore apart a bed frame, using its metal parts to tamper with the locks.
The task was painfully slow. A few times, when I thought I couldn’t go any further, I realized that there was only one principle that every survival expert would have known: to focus on what’s right ahead and do not try to assess the entire situation. Eventually, however, I heard a clicking sound coming from the locked door.
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I heard two more clicks, and finally, after a very long time, the lock popped off. The heavy padlock fell to the floor and even though I knew it was just a metal object, to me it sounded like the best melody in the world. After taking off the chains, I simply walked out of the room into the snowstorm.
The track out of those mountains nearly killed me. But I pushed myself through, one step at a time.
Finally, I ran into a military base. I was totally drained, frozen, and bruised all over. While waiting to be attended to by the medics, I came across a newspaper lying on the table next to me. In front-page news was none other than my own face. I was reported to be dead as it was assumed that I had vanished during a training mission and presumed to have been lost in the storm. There I sat, reading my own obituary, before bursting into laughter. There was nothing else left to do except scream.
Two days later, I found out Gavin had arranged a funeral for me that cost around $100,000. I had no idea mourning me was so expensive. I decided I was going to attend it.
There were military men, local dignitaries, friends, and media people everywhere. Flowers lined up rows upon rows on either side of a lovely casket right at the front of the room, and that particular casket was entirely devoid of contents. Gavin had stepped up to the pulpit to give his magnificent speech, and from any perspective, he seemed to be a thoroughly heartbroken widower. He choked up in all the right places, and tears brimmed beautifully in his eyes. Almost, I thought, he had earned my admiration.
That is when I opened the church doors.
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Everyone’s head turned around as I walked to the center, still in the ripped up clothes and snow covered boots.
He was as terrified as anyone when I showed up at the funeral with the padlock that Gavin used to write me off.
Alyssa seemed to have seen a ghost, literally. I stopped right by the coffin, holding the padlock, and announced, “I’m sorry I’m late. I had a bit of difficulty escaping.”
Absolute chaos broke out as Gavin tried to convince everyone that I wasn’t who I appeared to be, Alyssa screamed, and the others were left dumbfounded. The federal agents, however, were already there. They’d both be put in handcuffs before it was over. I felt nothing but relief.
But then again, the nightmare was far from over.
It took months after the courts proceedings and divorce had settled down before I discovered that Gavin wasn’t alone in this. Everything led to Clint. He was the one providing Gavin with my movements down to the exact location. In a way, it hurt me even more knowing this than anything else that they had done to me. They didn’t care about how long I had known them; they viewed my life as something worth cashing in on. Fortunately, he got what was coming to him.
Everything is so different now. I no longer try to figure out the reasonings behind what they did. Now I run a survival camp in the mountains for women who come with their own burden of abuse, fear or loss.
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Bored Daddy
Love and Peace
