Looking back, I still can’t believe I let all of that happen. I don’t think that anything will ever be able to make us forget all the horrible things we were put through. I’m still trying to process everything, so my memory is a little foggy. Trust me though, you’ll get the idea.


It was the eleventh of July, the dead of summer. My two kids, John and Allie, were on summer break, as was I. I was a teacher at Westbrook Elementary, the best school around if you ask me. My family was on the way back from vacation in Myrtle Beach and it was the hottest day of the summer so far. They expected it to get up to 115° and the meteorologists were advising people to stay inside if possible, even overnight.



As we were driving through High Point on our way back to Winston Salem, Allie, who is 9 years old, spotted a homeless man on the side of a bridge. He was holding a sign that read ”PLEASE HELP.” It was the saddest thing I had ever seen. I wasn’t much of a sympathetic person, but it was hard not to be over him. He had long shaggy hair that was matted to his head due to a mixture of the heat and going weeks without a wash. His clothes were torn and not fit for the summer we were going through. Before I knew what was happening, the car started to slowly come to a stop. I guess it was just my instincts taking control of my body. We rolled up beside the homeless man and I told him to get in. “Thank you so much, ma’am!” he exclaimed. I smiled but I thought that I had seen this man before…


It was pretty much silent on the way home, except for John’s gameboy. Thousands of thoughts and regrets were racing through my mind, something that I couldn’t control. Should I have picked him up? How do I know he isn’t a convicted felon on the run? What am I teaching my kids? This continued for the next half hour until we finally arrived home, stopping my thoughts and starting my actions. "Okay, before I decide anything, tell me about yourself.” I told the man. He went on to tell me about how he ended up where he was. His name was Mark. Mark had lost his job at the age of 26 because of a drug addiction. He claimed that he was clean now, but I wasn’t sure. He ended up in High Point due to an awful incident with his now ex-wife. They had just gotten divorced and she didn’t want him near her kids, so she drove him as far away as possible and left him with nothing but $20. The look on his face showed nothing but sorrow, and I completely forgot about any of my fears. After 15 minutes of sharing stories, I told him he could stay the night. I mean after all that he had told me that he had gone through, how could I not let him stay? That’s not how I was raised. My mama always told me to treat others how I would want to be treated, so that’s what I did.


Ever since my husband passed away, we’ve had an empty bedroom that used to be his office. I haven’t been in there since we cleaned it out because it brings back too many memories. Today, that changed. I went in there expecting the tears to start flowing, but they never did. I’m still not sure why they didn’t. With the help of my wonderful kids, we got the room cleaned up and ready for Mark by 6:30. I laid out some pajamas for him on the bed and went down to tell him his room was ready. His body language on the way up to the room was surprising. His shoulders were back and he was walking with the best poise I had ever seen anyone walk with. I found it surprising because of everything he told me he had been through. It was actually pretty suspicious.


The rest of the night went pretty smoothly. We ate dinner and watched tv for a little bit. Mark even played a game with John. John’s face was absolutely priceless while they were playing. I hadn’t seen him that happy in forever. After I got the kids a shower and put them to bed it was about 9:00. Mark asked me if he could take a shower, and I definitely was not opposed to that suggestion.


He came out of that bathroom as a new man, one that I almost didn’t recognize. His face was cleanly shaven and his hair was no longer matted down. All he did was tell me goodnight and went to his room. I thought it was pretty weird since it was only 9:30, but I was exhausted so I went too.


I woke up the next morning around 8:30 and decided to get the kids up because I had promised to take them to Grandma’s house that day. We lived in a two story house and all of our bedrooms were upstairs. John and Allie shared the same room, so I peeked in and gently shook them awake. Giving them time to wake up, I decided to go peek in Mark’s room and see if he was up. His bed was neatly made, almost as if he hadn’t slept there at all. The pajamas I laid out were gone, so at least I knew he was in there at one point. Things in the house were spooky, it was really quiet. I went back in the kids room and they were up and ready to go. We walked downstairs, and that’s when my whole life completely flipped.


I knew it. I knew something was weird about “Mark”, if that was even his name. I knew I shouldn’t have picked him up, that I shouldn’t have let him stay. We walked down those stairs to five men holding guns at our heads, and Mark, standing behind them smirking. I wanted to burst out in tears, but knew that I had to stay strong for the kids. Looking around the house, I saw that they had took all of our phones, knives, and anything else that we could use to turn them in or kill them, which is what I really wanted to do. The look on my kids face caused me to already be killed on the inside. They looked so lost, so trapped, because there was nothing we could do at all. “Why are you doing this?” I asked. He told me that before my husband died, he had borrowed money from them, a lot of money. They gave him money that he was supposed to pay them back. He said he was going to hold us captive until we either paid him back or found the money. I knew all hope was lost, this was going to be impossible.


The day went by slowly. My kids were scared and so was I, even though I pretended not to be. I searched through the whole house trying to find that check, with no luck. By 8:30, I knew all hope was lost, so I started to come up with an escape plan. At a quarter till 12 I grabbed the kids and put the plan into action. I walked to the stairs and everyone was downstairs and quiet. Now was the time. I tied a rope from my closet to the edge of the bed and threw it out of the window to the ground below. John was very strong for his age so he was going to carry Allie down on his back with me following behind. They knew to go to Grandma’s house when they got down. I gave them both tight hugs and a kiss, just in case something were to happen. They started heading onto the roof when I heard footsteps pounding up the stairs. “Hurry!” I exclaimed. Just as our enemies burst through the door, John and Allie reached the earth below. I started to go down the rope when I heard a gunshot and a scream…



So here I am, writing you this story from Heaven. I still can’t believe I let all of that happen. Thankfully, John and Allie escaped and made it to my mom’s house. Mark and his helpers were found and sent to prison. I still thank God everyday for taking me and not the kids. John is now 25, married, and has 2 kids of his own. I look down on him and smile at how great of a dad he is. Allie, who is 17, is at the top of her class and graduates this year. My memory for this horrible event is still foggy, so forgive me if I left anything out.