Doris loaded her three children into the rusty old truck. The two oldest in the back, covered with an old green tarp. The youngest sat beside her, excited about the trip to town.

The engine moaned and complained as Doris tried to start the worn machine. She swore and yelled as she beat her fists on the dash. Her face grew red with anger, as repeated attempts yielded no results.

With a growl the old truck sprang to life. Doris smiled at her young son and they departed the safety of their home, on their way to Jasper.

The two boys in the back cheered as the wind rushed through their unkempt hair. It was always an exciting time when they went to town. They had saved their ten cents allowance for six weeks and imagined coming home with pockets full of sweets.

A squeal erupted from the wheels as the truck slowed to a stop. Doris always visited Alan’s produce stand on the way to town so they wouldn’t close before she made the return trip. Tom and Ron hopped from the back of the truck and made their way inside. They browsed through baskets sitting on makeshift tables, all loaded with every fruit and vegetable conceivable. They finally settled on an orange apiece, paid for it, and returned to the truck.
Doris and Scott emerged a few minutes later with a basket full of fresh vegetables. After doing a quick head count they climbed back into the truck and continued their journey.
The country air was so fresh and the endless cornfields just made this place seem pleasing. A horde of crows emerged from the corn and the appearance of a dog gave reason why.

A howling noise erupted behind them and the old truck began to speed down the country road. The blue flashing lights of a police cruiser in pursuit drew rapidly from behind. Another soon joined, surrounding the family. Scott pleaded with his mother for an explanation but she didn’t answer.

They rolled to a stop and two officers made their way to the driver’s door, forcefully removed her, and placed Doris face down on the ground.

“Ma’am you’re under arrest for kidnapping.” Said the officer “We’ve been after you for a long time.”

Tim ushered the boys into his run-down two-room house. Ron feared his father would hit them for leaving with their mom. He remembered very well what it was like living with his dad and being in his home rekindled many repressed emotions.

“You stay here.” Their father said “And don’t touch anything.”
He closed the door and chained it shut so the boys couldn’t escape. Then he got in his car and drove to his favorite bar.

He was gone for three days and the boys had nothing but water to sustain them. They had searched the tiny house for food but found none. When he finally returned he offered them a snack-sized bag of pretzels, which they ate with no arguments.

A few days later Doris was escorted from her cell to the visitors’ area. She was seated on a stool in a small room full of other inmates. A piece of glass separated her from the visitor on the other side. Doris avoided eye contact with the man and raised the telephone to her ear.

“I’m surprised you came.” She said as a single tear rolled down her cheek.

Her husband, Tim, never cared what happened to her. Why would he care now? He won, the children would be his soon and there was nothing she could do about it. Her emotions were so mixed up. She was mad at herself for being caught, mad at him for winning, but most of all she was sorry for the three boys being raised by their abusive, alcoholic father.

“ I need you to sign this.” He said, showing no emotion “If you do I’ll drop all the kidnapping charges.”

He slid the papers through the tiny crack at the bottom of the glass. Doris read them carefully, and with a heavy heart signed her parental rights away.

Doris sat alone in her cell crying. He had won again. When she signed those papers any chance of success flew out the window.
She contemplated taking the children again but quickly dismissed the idea. How long would it last, a week, maybe a year? She new they wouldn’t be so easy on her this time.

Maybe he’s changed. Perhaps her leaving meant something to him. No, she thought, asking him to stop drinking is like asking her to stop breathing.

Doris sighed as she recalled life with Tim. Every detail of that time was etched permanently into her memory.

Doris remembered the hospital stay Tim gave her for their first anniversary. While other wives got jewelry or flowers, her gift was three stitches on the top of her head brought by the empty beer bottle he chucked at her during an argument.

This type of abuse was common throughout their five years together, mostly brought on by a simple question.

“Are you watching the game tonight?” Doris remembered asking one Superbowl Sunday. That question resulted in a broken nose, which was left untreated for two weeks. Tim finally took her to the hospital when her face had swollen so much that she couldn’t cook. They went straight there, after he stopped by the bar for a drink while his family waited in the car.

When Doris was there his anger was directed at her. Now that she is gone, whom would he turn to? The answer was all to clear.
Doris wept, knowing what her children were going through, and knowing that she could do nothing about it.


The boys had been with their father for a month and he had again left them alone. Tom had taken a leadership role and stockpiled food to sustain them in their father’s absence. A loose floorboard made the perfect hiding place for their bags of chips, canned vegetables, and candy.

Scott and Ron were able to avoid their father’s violence by hiding, but Tom wasn’t as lucky. His face was purple from repeated beatings. Tom knew that his suffering kept his siblings safe, much like his mother’s did for him.
His thoughts often returned to his mother. Dreams, that one day they would reunite and put an end to this horrible existence.

Tim pulled into the drive, still inebriated from a three-day binge. The white shirt he’d donned three days ago was now a dirty yellow. He wore one brown loafer covered with dried vomit
“Go hide. Tom said calmly.

He knew what was coming, it happened every time. Tim would get upset trying to remove the chain that trapped them inside. Then he would take out his frustration on the first person he saw. How much longer could he last?

Two months later Doris was living in Jasper, working as a server at a local diner, when she heard the news report broadcast over the radio.

“Firefighters responded to a fire at Wilson’s Quick Stop today when a car crashed into the fuel pumps. The driver, Tim Ellson, was found dead on arrival. Police believe alcohol was a factor. Mr. Ellson’s three children have been placed into state custody with hopes that a family member will step forward to give the boys a home.”

Doris was on the phone with Jasper police before the announcer finished. She explained her situation to the officer. He took her number and said he would call when he heard something.
The next few hours were the longest Doris had ever experienced. Every time the phone rang her heart fluttered. Her skin had faded from it’s usual rose color to a pale white. Several times she delivered food to the wrong table, and she spilled iced tea into an elderly man’s lap.

Finally the call came.

“Hi, Ms. Ellson.” Came a pleasant voice “this is Sergeant Crowley from the Jasper police department.

Sweat poured from Doris’s face as she slid down the wall, finally resting on the floor. Coworkers watched intently, waiting for the news. She closed her eyes and tried desperately to control her trembling hands.

“When can you pick up your boys?”