Josie's Answered Prayers

“Are you there God? It’s me, Josie.”

My chest and legs burn as I run through the surf, each footprint immediately washed away, leaving behind no trace of me. Sand and water spray the backs of my legs. My knotted oily brown hair whips around in the wind, hitting me in my face. I stop under the pier and position myself behind a wide leg.

Inhale in, two, three. Exhale out, two, three. The rise and fall of my chest begins to slow as I work to control my breathing. I wipe the tears off of my cheeks and beach sand sticks to my face. I examine the slats of the pier, scouting an unobstructed view of the heavens. The less interference my prayers have to make it through to get to God, the better.

“God, if you are real, I could use your help. Please don’t let them find me.”

Wind hits my damp cut-off jean shorts and t-shirt, causing goosebumps to dot my arms. I wipe the bloody sand off my foot to see the cut I got from a shell while running. It needs stitches, but I can’t think about that right now.

I peek around the side of a large leg of the pier, nervous at what I will see. No dark shadows appear to be moving. I let out a breath, not realizing I had been holding it.

Laughter breaks through the sound of crashing waves, startling me. A group of teens trample down the boardwalk of the pier, unaware I’m hiding in the shadows. I take a deep breath, struggling to slow my racing heart. I climb up the sandbank, my legs screaming at me to rest.

“Keep going,” I encourage myself, determined to put as much space between me and Rex as I can.

I reach the top of the dune and pause. An empty stretch of road snakes along the length of the shore; pine trees and palmetto bushes cover the landscape on the opposite side of the road. A glimpse of light catches my eye a short distance down from the direction I came. Multiple flashlights illuminate the beach, bobbing with each step. My pulse quickens. It has to be Rex and his vile friends searching for me. I wheel around and bolt toward the trees, limping across the asphalt, careful to protect the cut on my foot. My only option is to escape. If he finds me, I’m as good as dead.

The desolate road, used only by homeowners in the area, is empty. I stay ten feet back from the road, hidden by the brush, and walk in the opposite direction of the hell house. That’s what I call it. I knew God couldn’t hear my prayers in there. God couldn’t show up amid so much evil. Looking up, I say a small prayer, hoping he can hear me now.

The pine needles cushion my steps as I walk and poke my cut. Pinecones crunch under my calloused feet, but I barely notice. Years of not wearing shoes have toughened them to the impermeability of leather. Clouds move away, allowing the moon to glow through the night sky. Deeper into the woods, I hide in the shadows of the trees. Exhausted, I plop down on a bed of pine needles, and press my back against the bark of a pine tree, and take a deep breath. I can hear the waves crashing against the shore in the distance. Crickets and frogs sing in harmony with the owls, their anthems a calming presence.

I take a minute to inspect my body. My foot has stopped bleeding. Dried blood covers my left hand, and I assume I cut it escaping through the broken window. I squint in the moonlight, trying to inspect it for glass and debris. I turn my attention to my arms and legs. My inner thighs are bruised from the man last night. My stomach recoils thinking about his meaty hands gripping my thighs when I protested. His sweaty, red face as he laid on top of me, pushing himself hard into me, not caring if it hurt. I reach up and absently touch my busted swollen lip. A punishment for crying out in pain. I shutter remembering the beating Rex gave me with his belt because the man complained. Afterward, he forced himself on me as payment for upsetting him. I made sure I didn’t cry out that time.

I pull my legs up and wrap my arms around them, overwrought by the need to feel small. A palmetto bush sits a few feet away, and I crawl over and inch myself under the spiked fronds. Protected and hidden from Rex and the memories, I can close my eyes and fall asleep.

The sound of a car driving by wakes me. I keep my eyes closed, the blissful time between sleep and awake, when the mind is free from worries. The fog of sleep starts to fade away, and I remember where I am. I open my eyes and sit up, forgetting the palmetto bush and its protective cover. The spiked branches scratch my face, pushing me back to the ground. I survey my surroundings. In the cover of darkness, the woods appeared more dense. The road is closer; the trees and bushes are more spread apart than I originally thought. I chide myself for falling asleep in such an exposed area.

The sun is rising over the water, confirming my suspicion that I am on the east coast. I slide out from my hiding place and wipe as much dirt and pineneedles off my body as I can. My damp clothes from last night, mixed with the dirt, have made it impossible for me to wipe them clean. I’m tempted to run across the street to wash off and clean my cuts in the ocean’s salt water, but I can’t risk Rex or his friends finding me.

I continue wading through the shadows of the woods, my eyes jumping with every movement and noise. My stomach growls, and I place my hand over it. The ocean heightens my thirst, taunting me with its endless views of untouchable water.

A small red car comes into view, and I know this moment is my chance. This might be my only chance. Thoughts of Rex seeing me flash through my mind and my stomach tightens with fear.

“Please God, don’t let him see me. I’d rather die than go back.”

I run through the woods and into the road, waving my arms in the air. The driver slams on the brakes, screeching to a halt 3 feet away from me. I hurry to the driver’s side window. An older woman, with gray hair and alarmed eyes, stares at me through the glass.

“I need help. I need to get to a police station.” I say, desperate for her to hurry.

The woman stares, frozen in place. Her gaze settles on my shirt. I look down and see the blood and dirt that has caught her attention, and I understand her cautiousness.

I hold back the desire to snap my fingers in front of her face. Instead, I plead with her.

“Please! If you don’t want to take me, do you have a phone you can use to call the police? I need help. Men are after me. Please!”

Finally registering my words, she nods and gestures to the passenger door. I run around and get in, welcomed by the sounds of old time radio wafting through the speakers and the smell of her sweet perfume.

“I’m June,” she says, “what happened?”

Oh, what a simple question with such a complicated answer. If only she knew.

“Um, can you please take me to a police station?”

Accepting the dodged question, June puts the car in drive, turns around, and starts heading back the way she came.

“What is your name, dear?” June asks.

“Josie.”

“Nice to meet you, Josie. I don’t normally come this way, but I felt like a drive along the beach today. I guess God had me come this way for a reason.”

A sob stuck in my throat, threatening to break free. Like a shaken soda can, once opened, the tears will erupt and I won’t be able to control them. I will have to wait to cry. I’ve waited years, so a few more hours won’t make a difference.

I look over to June and whisper. “Um, what state are we in?”

June’s brow furrows. “This is Florida, dear. Where are you from?”

“Georgia”

“What year is it?” I ask.

“Feb 4, 2021” June replies, surprisingly calm under the circumstances.

I stare out the window and watch the ocean waves, thinking about being locked in the basement of Rex’s house. Three years. Three birthdays have gone by and I didn’t even know it. I wonder if my parents still look for me.

“How old are you?” June asks.

“Nineteen.” I pause, wondering how much I should tell this stranger.

“I was abducted when I was sixteen.”

June looks at me, “Hon, I think it would be better if we brought you to the hospital and call the authorities from there.”

Fear grips my throat, strangling me, and my body starts to shake. “He can find me there.”

“No sweetheart, you are safe. I promise.” June’s calm voice did little to ease my nerves.

Out of nowhere, June begins quoting the Bible.

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake…”

My shoulders relax and peace envelopes me as June recited the 23rd Psalm.

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”

June pulls her car under the hospital emergency entrance overhang and puts it in park.

“It’s ok. You are safe.” June reassures me. She opens her door and gets out. I copy her motions, unable to make any sensible decisions of my own. The fear is threatening to overtake me again as I join June in front of the car. We walk through the sliding doors and approach the desk.

June speaks for me in hushed whispers, for which I am grateful. The receptionist’s eyes grow wide and she hurries from her chair to the back. Double doors open and I am put in a wheelchair.

“Wait.” I find my voice, thick with sobs. “Can June come with me?” I need her. My eyes plead with her to come with me.

“Let me just park the car quick. I’ll be right back.” June says as she hurries toward the sliding doors.

“What’s your name?” the male attendant asks me.

“Josie”

“Josie, you are safe.”

Four hours later, I lay in a hospital bed, looking out the window. My entire body aches, and the stress from the rape exam, stitches, police interviews and first shower in months have left me exhausted. My dinner tray sits on the table, untouched. The IV inserted for extreme dehydration earlier in the day is still in my left hand. I touch the area to remind myself I am not dreaming.

June sits in the chair next to my bed, knitting, and quietly humming church hymns. She has been my security blanket at the hospital.

I look up and give a faint smile. “Thank you for staying,” I say.

“Oh, you can’t get rid of me. Get some sleep. I’ll still be here when you wake up. And tomorrow, you get to see your family. Your mom and dad will be here in the morning.”

She goes back to her knitting, and I just stare at her. She is so sure everything is going to be okay and she has such peace. I envy her. I close my eyes and allow myself to drift off to sleep while June hums a lullaby of amazing grace.