Running from the Devil

When I was a young teenager (about 13 or 14) I was home alone with my stepfather, Kevin. At the time my mom often worked long hours at her job to support us (herself, my brother, and me). I refer to this man, who we will call “Kevin” as the “evil stepfather”. Because he and his two brothers were a nightmare, a source of a lot of trauma and heartache to me when I was young.

One day I was home alone with Kevin. He was on the couch in the living room watching TV. I forget why but I wanted to call my mom at work to tell her something (likely, that I was uncomfortable and needed her help). I asked Kevin if I could use the phone, a land line, to call my mom at work. He said that I could not. A few minutes later I asked him again claiming (lie) that I needed to ask her “a girl question” urgently. He said, “No. You will NOT bother your mom at work. Do NOT ask again…." Raising his voice, he said, "Matter of fact…” He got up, walked over to the phone and violently and abruptly ripped it from the wall tearing the wire and part of the wall in the process. There was no calling for help now.

Startled, I ran in the bathroom and locked the door. I was panicked and afraid of what he might do. After several minutes things sounded quiet on the other side of the door. I thought that since it sounded quiet and several minutes had past, he might have calmed. I opened the bathroom door and before I could even take a few steps out I heard him run and leap onto the front porch . He had been outside (likely waiting for me to try to go out the window) and he had heard me. The front porch was wood, and his loud steps echoed as he leaped. I ran back into the bathroom, slamming the door and locked it.

When I was going to jump out of the bathroom window and run into the woods, he ran outside, anticipating my thought. He would run outside and investigate the bathroom window to see if I was there. I tried to run out of the house then again, he would bound onto the porch chasing me back into the bathroom where I would hurriedly slam the door shut and lock the door yet again.

At the time we had a rather large rottweiler dog. Initially the dog had been very attached to me. The dog even growled at Kevin once. Seeing the dog was becoming protective of me, Kevin took to feeding the dog bacon and other savory human foods frequently in effort to disarm the dog if not to make it eager to obey him alone. On this day all his training had worked as the dog (faster than him) joined him in running out of the house near the bathroom window then bounding back onto the front porch and running into the house. They went back and forth outside to the window then back inside the house to the bathroom door. We continued our game of cat and mouse. I would try to run out of the bathroom, he and the dog would run back in, and on and on it went, back and forth.

Then, to my horror, he began to nail boards over the bathroom window, trapping me inside like a prison cell with no window. Loudly and angrily he hammered the nails into the boards over the window. He loudly announced that he was nailing the boards over the window. Now, not only was I trapped but my screams would be muffled if they were even heard by anyone at all. (And that was unlikely as we lived in a rural countryside). He laughed maniacally as the hammer pounded loudly, driving each nail completely into the board in merely one or two hits each. I remember screaming and crying. I turned the shower on to muffle the noise and not give him the satisfaction of having made me cry again. I prayed to the Lord and thought long and hard about what to do, asking God for help. He was nearly done hammering the nails into my coffin, I mean the window. I knew If I were going to do anything it would have to be now. I also knew the dog would give away my position and there was no tip-toeing away. I prayed. I prayed for strength and for God, my refuge, to provide me with refuge, to rescue me. Help!

“I will call upon the Lord, who is worthy to be praised; So shall I be saved from my enemies. The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer; My God, my strength, in whom I will trust; My shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.” Psalms 18:2-3

As I heard him drive in what thought was likely one of the very last nails I took my chance: I quicky opened the bathroom door and ran out of the house jumping high and far from a side porch. I heard the dog’s collar jingle and Kevin’s heavy footsteps as he ran after me. I heard loud thuds behind me, he raced after me with broad, heavy steps. In mere seconds I was out of the door and had leapt off the side porch. He was after me and gaining. I pumped my legs running as hard and as fast as I could. My long hair was down and flowing behind me as I ran. I felt his fingers rake through my hair as he attempted to grab my hair and yank me to the ground. His hand went through my hair tearing through it but not catching me. (For many years, every so often I'd have a nightmare I was running and could feel a dangerous trouble running behind me and the sensation of fingers grasping through my hair).

I ran over our property line and into that of a neighbor’s and I urgently, rapidly knocked on their front door. As I looked over my shoulder, I noticed that Kevin hadn’t crossed onto their land. Likely wanting to avoid trouble with the law (which he had frequently. It wouldn't surprise me if he had a warrant or was on probation). A family lived in that house. A husband, wife, and their three boys. One was about three or four years older than me. I would have no reason to go to their house. And I really didn’t know them well. I felt awkward as the mother answered the door. I do not think I had even been inside their home until that day. I recall awkwardly asking if I could hang-out at their house until my mom got home from work. I don’t remember the dialogue, but I can now imagine what she opened the door to: A wide-eyed, breathless, young girl clearly in distress of some kind, beads of perspiration on her face. I remember her being very friendly, giving me lemonade and cookies as we made small talk in their kitchen. She didn't ask me probing questions, though I'm sure she had some probing questions in her mind that she kept to herself.

“As for God, His way is perfect; The word of the Lord is proven; He is a shield to all who trust in Him.” Psalms 18:30

Thank you, Lord for being my refuge and strength! Whether you are in trouble or in a time of peace, praise the Lord! His way is indeed perfect.