A Stolen Life - A Memoir Part 5
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I miss my mom. My mom used to make me Barbie clothes. She had just made me some new outfits right before I went away. I wonder what she is doing right now. Does she miss me as much as I miss her? I try really hard not to think of things that make me sad. I do like to replay memories of home in my head. I don't want to forget. I'm afraid I won't remember what my mom looks like. I don't want to picture her in my head and yet at the same time I do. I miss the times when it used to be just me and her and she would scratch my back or make me macaroni and cheese. I miss her singing "You Are My Suns.h.i.+ne" to me and making me little things like Barbie clothes and kissing me good night.
I don't want to forget times with my aunt Tina, too. Like the time my aunt Tina picked me up from school and took me to see the floats from the Rose parade. That is the last time I saw her before we moved to Tahoe. I posed for a picture for her that day. I probably looked so goofy with my tongue out as she snapped the picture. I miss her so much right now. She was always there when I was little. She taught me how to make my first twist ponytail in my Barbies' hair. When she moved out from my grandma and grandpa's house where we lived together, she would still come and take me to her new place for a sleepover. Our favorite movie to watch together is The Little Mermaid. I wonder if she thinks of me. Will I ever see her again? Will anything ever be the way it's supposed to be?
It wasn't until I wrote the last paragraph on birthdays that I realized how little I remembered my own birthdays during my years of captivity. I think I told them about my birthday and that's why Nancy gave me the birthday Barbie, but other than that I don't remember anything about that day. The birthdays I do remember were the ones marked with the ironic gift of a new tent. During those early years there was no cake, no friends, and no memories to remember.
Speaking of birthdays, this was me on my first birthday.
After the first year, things changed and we all started to spend more time together. Phillip eventually rented movies and bought fast food, he would pick up Nancy from work, and we would all sit on the pullout bed and eat a smorgasbord of fast food and watch movies. The ones I remember watching were scary like Nightmare on Elm Street. I also remember watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I loved the old Star Trek series that was usually on late at night, too. Eventually I started watching Star Trek: The Next Generation. What I liked about Star Trek was that even though there was still crime in the universe, it didn't exist on earth. I liked that the earth had been cleaned up. I especially liked that future because I felt I didn't have one.
Nancy gave me a book on trees and I copied it word for word into a book I made. Nancy would always bring me something new when she came to check on me, like a new book or new crayons. This made me think she was really starting to like me. I thought she was so nice to take the time to come and see me even though she said it was hard for her. I had my own standing toilet with a built-in bucket. Phillip would empty it outside somewhere in the yard, he said. This took me a little bit to get used to. I had never used anything but a regular toilet that flushed. I thought it was gross that he was putting that kind of waste in the yard but grew used to it over time. With time, I grew used to all kinds of things. Sometimes my bucket would get so full that I would have to hold it in when I had to go. I remember one time I had to go so badly that I did it in the garbage can. Toilet paper was scarce, too. I would reuse some of the ones that just had dried pee; I know that sounds gross, but what do you use when you have to go and don't have anything? No running water, no way to go get what you need? I used what I had. I survived. There was this daddy longlegs spider up in the corner of the ceiling next to the toilet. I named her Bianca and I would talk to her (maybe I watched Charlotte's Web a few too many times). I was eleven or twelve at the time and had a very active imagination.
Sometimes I feel bad for not missing Nancy. But for the most part it is a relief for me to not have to endure her moods and the jealousy she harbored. She did have several opportunities to let me go, and I might never know why she chose not to.
Easter: Phillip on an Island
Nancy comes to bring me dinner. She says it's a special Easter dinner. Its 1993. I am thirteen years old. I do not feel thirteen. I still feel eleven. I don't feel like a teenager. Dinner is corned beef and cabbage. It's good. Usually they bring me fast food. So it's nice when I get a home-cooked meal. I tell her I'm so lonely to please stay and chat for a little bit and she says she will. I have asked her in the past to stay, but sometimes she says she can't because she feels guilty for taking me. She says it's hard for her to be with me. She tells me she wished and prayed the morning they took me that Phillip would get a migraine and not be able to go through with it. I think to myself, Me, too. As I finish my dinner she tells me about her day at work at the old folks' home. She says she enjoys her job but doesn't like all the girls she works with. She says they gossip a lot. She tells me that Phillip is so sweet, how he comes to visit her on her breaks and brings her flowers. Sometimes they go back to the van and smoke weed or she takes a hit of the pipe with crank in it. She says the crank helps her stay thin. She doesn't want to get fat. I think that's weird she spends so much time worrying about her weight. I don't think Phillip helps with her image when he talks about the other girls that look at him. The two of them have such a strange relations.h.i.+p.
She asks me things like what music I like and I tell her I like Disney songs. I also like Mariah Carey, Wilson Phillips, and Whitney Houston. I just want her to like me. I really hope she likes me. For some reason I get the feeling she doesn't like me. She says after a while that she needs to go but will be sleeping with me back here tonight. There was a movie she wanted to watch called The Unborn; she said she liked scary movies. So I acted like I wanted to see it. I didn't really want to watch a scary movie, but I wanted her to be happy with me. I expected to see Phillip sometime during the day, but he never came in. I tried to think of the last time I had seen him and decided it had been a few days at least. I wonder where he was. I was relieved for the release from the s.e.x, but I knew the longer he went without it, the longer the next "run" would be. I feared his return.
That night, Nancy comes in and locks the iron door behind her. I thought it was strange because she usually slept wherever Phillip slept. I asked where he was. She said he went to live on an island with a rich friend for a while. She said he'd be gone for a month. Wow! A WHOLE MONTH WITH NO s.e.x! I am so excited inside. But she looks sad, so I just say, "Fine." The movie starts and it's scary and kind of disgusting with the baby walking around and killing people. Yuck! Then we hear a noise outside and we both jump. Nancy says she's scared to go see what it was but thinks she better, so she unlocks the door and goes outside. She's back in less than a minute and says everything looks okay. That the dogs were not barking, so everything must be okay. She says I can sleep with her in the big bed, and I'm grateful because I didn't want to sleep alone. By now the pullout couch has been replaced with a real mattress. I like it a lot better because it doesn't squeak like the other pullout couch did. We go to bed. In the morning she wakes up and leaves. I probably won't see her until dinnertime. The loneliness sets in again.
A few weeks later when Phillip returns, he comes "next door" where I am being kept. I actually feel happy to see him. He has been gone awhile. I missed having someone to talk to. Nancy doesn't say much and she cries a lot. It is hard to know what she wants, and I don't quite know what to say to her at times. She reminds me of a turtle; you can never quite know what a turtle is thinking. Phillip is easier to relate to; at least I know what he is thinking. Phillip makes me laugh with all his jokes and antics. He says he learned so much while he was away. He has come back with a device on his ankle, which I find strange. He tells me that he was sent back to prison for the month. He wasn't really on an island with a rich friend. He said the police had found some drugs in the house and arrested him for parole violation. He added it was Nancy's pipe that they had found. She had forgotten that she had put it in a drawer in the house. He asked if Nancy had taken good care of me and I said yes. He talked for a while longer and then took a nap on the bed, while I read quietly, wondering inside would this be the end of him hurting me? Somehow knowing it wasn't.
The Today show says that today is December 25, 1993. It is day 907 of my captivity. It is Christmas Day. I am alone. I am mostly always alone. No one to talk to; no one to hug me unless Phillip comes in. He gives me hugs sometimes and makes me feel loved. But am I really? Will I always feel this alone? I try not to dwell on the things I don't have. Phillip thanks me for helping him with his problem. He said he is reading the Bible now and G.o.d is helping him, too. I hate the s.e.x so much, but at least it's not as bad as last year. Phillip has made the "runs" a lot shorter and he hasn't been taking any drugs in between. He says he's trying to quit. The last "run" was a couple of weeks ago. Sometimes he comes in for a quick masturbation, but at least he doesn't always stick it in me. He says he saves it now for the "runs." I hate drugs, I wish he wouldn't take them. I think they turn him into another person. He seems nice the rest of the time. That's how I get through the s.e.x, I just tell myself it will be over and he will come back and be the "nice" person I think he can be. I just have to get past feeling the pain.
He seems to have an opinion on everything, especially religion. Ever since he came back from his stay at the prison he has been reading the Bible a lot. He says the mysteries of the Bible are becoming clear to him. He doesn't seem really religious to me. The "runs" have been really scary lately, but I'm getting used to them. At least I know what to expect. He likes to follow a routine mostly. He's been acting strange lately, though. He thinks he hears voices from the TV even when it's muted. He asks me if I can hear it, too, and I say I don't hear anything, but sometimes I'm afraid to disagree with him. He bought this device called Bionic Ears and he puts it up to the wall and puts on headphones and listens to the wall for hours. On the one hand, it's great because I don't have to jack him off or anything, but it's weird, too. What does he hear? He says he hears conversations and people's voices. I don't pay much attention, it gives me the opportunity to get some rest.
Not much is going on for Christmas today. Nancy said she would bring me a plate of Christmas dinner that Phillip's mom makes. She and Phillip said they would have eaten back here with me but his mother would be alone, so they would come in later tonight. I wonder what my mom is doing today. They are probably having a nice family dinner together. I hope she is happy. I'm sure Carl is a lot happier now that I am gone. I don't think he liked me much. I got in the way a lot. I wonder if I will ever feel happy again. I pretend I'm happy a lot, just so Phillip and Nancy don't feel bad. I've learned that having a good att.i.tude around them makes them want to do more for me. So I keep my true feelings to myself.
My plans for the day are: 1. watch the Today show, 2. Play a couple hours of Super Mario Bros., 3. Take a nap, and 4. Hopefully by then it will be dinnertime. My day. Very exciting. I am so lonely. I wish I had someone to talk to. Tomorrow will probably be the same.
During these interceding months I am moved back and forth from the "studio" to "next door" many times. I'm not sure why I was shuffled from one room to the next. I think a part of it was because he liked to have some of his friends come over and smoke weed and play music all night. I remember the music coming from the studio. It would last until the wee hours of the morning sometimes. It was so loud it was hard to sleep. I got used to hearing it and it became easier. It made me feel like he was working to improve the future, and I learned not to mind. I never saw any of the people that went in there with him. I know Nancy was in there and would have to sneak away to come over and feed me when they had company. I think it was just Phillip in there, fiddling around with his sound equipment, playing by himself. I really began to think he'd be a musician one day. He had original songs that he wrote. He said he taught himself to play guitar. He said his instrument was ba.s.s but he amazed himself how well he played the guitar and keyboard. He said he didn't really need anyone to play with him, that with the equipment he had he could be a one-man band. Nancy wanted to play the drums. She had books on the subject and she said the drums were hers. I could hear her practicing on them sometimes, too.
During one of the times I was "next door," Nancy said she was looking in the paper for another kitty for me. This time they wanted to get me a kitten. I wasn't sure I wanted another kitty. It was so hard to give up the last kitten that I really didn't want to go through that again. But in the end I didn't protest very much. Nancy found an ad for a four-week-old kitten in the Pennysaver, and called to inquire. Turns out the kitten had a slight cold, but I decided I really wanted this one, so they went to go get her. She was the cutest thing I had ever seen. She was fluffy and white and I named her Snowy. She was a sweet little thing. Phillip didn't want her to have the run of the room, so I had to leash her to her scratching post. I would let her off of it when he wasn't around. It was hard during "runs," though, because she would cry and meow so loudly wanting to get free. Phillip didn't want cat hair sticking to the Vaseline that he used for masturbating and to lubricate me. Eventually Snowy interfered and interrupted too much with his fantasy and he got rid of her, too.
At one time I had a small tent in the room next door to the studio. They got it for me for my birthday. (I know, ironic gift, right?) I had my own sleeping bag, a shelf which I used for a desk and bookshelf. I had my own TV in there, too. When Phillip would come in for s.e.x, I would have to leave my little sanctuary. Phillip was a lot longer than the tent, so it didn't work for him to come in and make me have s.e.x. He would lay a blanket on the floor "next door" and make me lay there and said he would be quick if I didn't struggle. I remember laying there with unshed tears in my eyes and looking at my little tent and longing to crawl back in. They got me another cat, which I named Eclipse. I think I had her for about a month until Phillip took her away, too. I don't remember why. I do remember I wrote a journal about her. I would chronicle all the things she did during the day. It's one of the few things I eventually received back after the police removed evidence from the property. The front looks like this:
As you can see, although I've always loved writing I'm not the best speller, as this cover shows. When I got this journal back from the police and read it, I noticed I had torn the corners of the t.i.tle page. It brought back the memory and how guilty I felt for writing my name in the first place. In the torn-off corner I had written: "this is written by Jaycee Dugard" on the first page of that journal. I wrote Eclipse's Journal in 1993, but already Phillip's control over my life was almost absolute. I remember, I was so proud that I had written this for my kitty and wanted to share it with someone, I showed it to Phillip and he saw that I had put my name in it. He preached to me for I think an hour about how I really didn't want to write my name, and how dangerous that could be if anyone else ever read it. I thought to myself, I never see anyone, though, but I didn't interrupt because it always ended with why he was right and I was wrong. So I tore out the corners with my name and never wrote my real name on anything again until 2009.
Rusty was a cat that my grandma got for me when I was a baby. Rusty was around when I was growing up and living with mom, Aunt Tina, and Grandma Ninny and Grandpa Poppy. He was an orange tabby. He was an outside cat, so when me and my mom got our first apartment together I wasn't able to bring him with me, but luckily we lived about five minutes from my grandparents' house, so I was able to visit frequently. Whenever I would visit, all I would have to do is call out his name and he would come running to me no matter where he was in the neighborhood. I miss my Rusty kitty. When we moved to Tahoe, I never got to see him again.
Shortly after that last entry in Eclipse's Journal, Phillip moved me back to the studio room again. He had me pack up all the things I had in my tent in boxes and said that he was going to give Eclipse to his aunt Celia. For what reason? I do not know. He was a very paranoid man. He said his aunt Celia absolutely adored cats and fed all the strays in her neighborhood. He said she would take very good care of Eclipse. And said if things changed in the future, maybe I could see her again one day. I never saw her again.
A Stolen Life - A Memoir Part 5
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A Stolen Life - A Memoir Part 5 summary
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