THING YOU LOSE.
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A mother. A father. A sister. A brother. Her.
The perfect family. The suburbs. Family dinners every Sunday, BBQs with the whole neighborhood every summer. Everybody knew her, everybody cared about her like she was their own. Everyones to love.
Upper middle-class, truly she couldn’t have asked for more. Always wearing white or pink dresses, little bows in her pigtails. She was the definition of innocence.
But that was taken away from her. Too young.
10 years old, her first time cycling to school by herself. She was so proud with her brand new pink bike with a basket. That day was meant to be a sign of growing up. Instead it became a nightmare. Pulled into a white van, she didn’t know the man.
A small 4x4 room became her new home. A small bed barely big enough for her, a couple of dolls. Her abduction wasn’t international at first — just a missing child case. Not that she knew. She didn’t have a TV or a radio. Just her, the walls consuming her and her own sound of breathing. Sometimes he came down there, gave her food and new clothes, but barely spoke to her. When he did, it also caused a few slaps in the face whenever she didn’t please him.
After a few weeks she realized rescue wasn’t coming on its own. She never screamed, never fought or tried to run. Over time learning certain behavior makes her less noticeable, certain emotions calms the room. She began to study her captor like an audience: learning when to be quiet, when to be harmless, how to look smaller than she was.
Playing the role of the good and easy child, he agreed to take her outside to buy groceries. Shaving her head, a blue hoodie too big and the face that’s lost weight was meant to hide her identity. It was to her luck her captor wasn’t smarter. Or less lonely.
Panic would have ruined everything. She stayed beside him, playing the good child. Until checkouts. A simple comment to the cashier: ‘’If anyone asks, I’m supposed to say I’m his niece’’. Her captor was held back, police were called. Within half an hour they identified her as the child that disappeared a couple months ago.
Coming back home didn’t just mean coming home to her old room or family. It was a whole new life. Being a face the whole world recognized — while she had been locked away — starved and neglected — people across the globe had been waiting, hoping she would be found alive. When she was, she became more than a child who survived. She became a symbol of hope. Interviews, photos, documentaries became a daily thing in her life. The girl who survived.
Acting is what made her escape. It’s what saved her life. As therapy taught her how to talk louder about her feelings, she knew she had to do something about those feelings. She always pretended to be okay, even when people stared or didn’t know how to treat her. She had pretended for months — that didn’t change when she came back.
At 16 she agreed to a role at the local theatre, her mothers idea — wishing her daughter to slowly start having a normal life again. On stage everybody stared at her, no one asked her questions or wanted an explanation. She realized she could cry without being asked why, be afraid without it being real. Like all her feelings and fears only played a part when she was on stage and when she left it, she would leave it behind. That was the first time she felt safe while being seen.
25 years old today, a public face, a live-action ghost on Broadway. She’s a favorite; she does what she does best: act. Rehearsals, vocal exercises, warm-ups. She’s precise, controlled and magnetic. A dry humor is her favorite, joking about things she shouldn’t. Always grinning, a bit playful when she’s best. A natural flirt — but rarely she means anything by it.
A small central apartment, luxurious, but controlled. Friends are important; she’s a good one if they’re good to her. Men come and go. Deep down they are all the same — and she doesn’t trust them.
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