Picked up a girl who was dirty, dressed in rags, and limping. I didn’t “pick her up” in the romantic sense. I drove her home. And I’ll never forget her horrifying story.

I spotted her on the highway, limping down the sidewalk beside the road. She was filthy, and wore tattered clothing. It was clear that she was in trouble, so I pulled over and called out to her.<br><br>She didn’t seem startled by my presence, like a girl in her situation should have been. But she seemed spacey, like she was absolutely focused on putting one foot in front of the other.<br><br>I offered her a ride home. She didn’t say much, but she gave an address that I was familiar with. I knew a quicker way to get there, so I offered her a bottle of water and we took off. <br><br>She thanked me, but otherwise didn’t say much until I asked if she was okay. She looked at me and I could see tears in her eyes. <br><br>What follows is what she told me, to the best of my memory. I never saw her again, but I never forgot her story. <br><br>“When I was a little girl, my parents died in a car crash. My mom’s brother took me in, but he never treated me like his own daughter.”<br><br>“He treated me very well, but I could tell that he resented me. I think my presence reminded him of his sister. He would keep me at arm’s length. But he was a good man, and took care of me.”<br><br>“When I turned 18, he let me use the car to go to a party. On the way, I got into a wreck. It was my fault. The other driver, a young woman, was killed. She was about a year older than me.”<br><br>“The man who was driving behind me, he stopped to see if I was okay. He…he was a nice guy. I can’t say it wasn’t my fault, because it was. He was going to file a police report to report the accident, but he made me a deal. He said if I would help him with something, he would call his lawyer and make sure I wouldn’t get charged.”<br><br>“I agreed. I had never been in trouble before, and I was eager to get out of it. I was also afraid my uncle would be sad, or disappointed, if I got in trouble. I didn’t want to let him down.”<br><br>“The man took me to his house. He had a lot of money, I could tell. He pointed me up to the attic, and told me to wait for him. I waited for over an hour. Finally, he came up with something in a box.”<br><br>“I never saw her face, but it was a head. It was her head. He told me it was the girl who died in the wreck. I tried to run, but he caught me. He took me downstairs to the basement. That’s where he said I was going to have to stay.”<br><br>“He kept me in a cage. It was a big cage, but it was literally a cage. I couldn’t get out. It was caged on all sides. Sometimes he would take me out, and make me do “work” for him.” <br><br>“At first, it was chores. He had me clean the house, and help him with things. But then I “had” to help him with other things.”<br><br>“I had to sit in his lap, and I had to touch him. I was sickened. He would hurt me if I didn’t comply, so I did what he said. He…he made me do worse things. He made me strike different poses. I “had” to model clothes for him. He made me do something with the head, and I just…can’t tell you. It was so, so bad.”<br><br>“He would work “shifts,” and then he would come home, and I would have to do things for him. He would hurt me if I wouldn’t.” <br><br>“One day, he went to work. But I knew I couldn’t stay there. I knew something worse was going to happen to me, and I didn’t want to be there when it did. I didn’t know how I would get out, so I waited until he was gone.”<br><br>“I looked at the lock, and I knew I couldn’t open it. It was thick, and strong. So I did the only thing I could think of. I “broke out” the only way I could.”<br><br>“I broke my own hands. I didn’t know what else to do, so I literally crushed them on the concrete. I broke them because I was trying to make them smaller, so I could squeeze through the cage.”<br><br>“It hurt so, so bad. But I finally squeezed through, and I was out. I ran as fast as I could out the back door, and didn’t look back. I never once looked back.”<br><br>“I can’t call my uncle. This man has a lot of money, and I think he’ll figure out who I am. I was going to try and find a public library, to see if I can find my uncle’s address.”<br><br>“I lost my phone and wallet in the wreck, so I have no identification, and no way of calling anyone. I walked for miles until I saw you. I was trying to find a way to get to a library or somewhere I could find a phone book. I didn’t know what else to do, or where else to go. And then you pulled up.”<br><br>She paused, then asked me for directions to the nearest library. I told her I would drive her, and she thanked me. I dropped her off at the library, and as I was leaving, I heard her sobbing. I felt terrible for her, and I remember wishing I could do something to help.<br><br>But I didn’t. I left her crying in the library. It’s the only thing I’ve ever done that I truly regret, giving her my bottle of water and driving away. <br><br>I didn’t see her again after that, but every year, I search for her name and city on a missing persons website, in the hopes that she’s okay. I still haven’t found her, but I haven’t given up.