Stockholm Syndrome

The Woman and The Boy

The nurses walk back into my room, followed by the woman and the boy. They have been coming to see me for days now, every morning the same as the last. I have lost track of the days. They roll in the television and play the clip. They make me watch the other me, the distorted version of what happened the day that I was taken into custody.

I know what really happened that day. I had caused a scene. I was so desperate for money, for a home, that I stole from the national bank. I didn't get very far before the government officials showed up, guns held high. One thing led to another and the rookie fired a bullet, hitting me in the shoulder. I had lost a lot of blood that day, but thankfully I was okay. After weeks of recovery at St. John's Regional Hospital, I was moved to an orphanage: The Harvey House. They treated me well I suppose, but all I wanted was a family.

I was eventually adopted. A man entered Harvey one day, a Godly man. His name was Samuel Jay Walker. He told me he wanted to help me. He said he wanted to give me a home, and a life with God. I was moved from Harvey to Mr. Walker's house a few weeks later. There were 11 of us living there at the time. Mr. Walker schooled us, fed us, led our devotional time, and taught us discipline. We were good kids, and when we were not, we repented before God and Mr. Walker carried out the will of our Lord so that we may be forgiven. He didn't enjoy hurting us, but it was necessary in order to be cleansed of our sins. We stayed inside, for Mr. Walker was protecting us from the sinful world of the devil, as he liked to say.

That was 2 and a half years ago. I am now 19 years old, the oldest of the Walker children I suppose. As time went on we grew closer and closer, we were a family. We were finally a family. I finally had a family. I was happy.

I'm pulled from my thoughts by the nurse.

"We have been making so much progress, haven't we Delaney?"

"Margaret," I reply without missing a beat. The nurse sighs as the woman tries to hold in her tears. The boy looks at me with broken eyes.

"Laney love, you have to remember me, please," he pleads. I look at his soft green eyes as I listen to the woman whimper. He looks broken, like he's missing something, but he also looks strong. The woman, on the other hand, looks small, frail even. She looks as if she hasn't slept in weeks, she looks absolutely miserable.

Even though these people have kidnapped me from my home, it's still hard to hurt them. I think they call it Stockholm syndrome. A condition in which a victim starts to care/thinks they care about their abductors.

2015

"Hey Margie,' I hear Camden whisper.

"Cam, we are going to get caught. Mr. Walker doesn't like us out of our rooms past ten." Camden sighs and grabs my hand, slipping a cold bag into my palm.

"Here," he says, "for the bruises." He gets up and leaves, cracking the door slightly. I look down at my hand and see the melting ice that was left for me and smile. My family has and always will have my back.

2018

"Laney, are you listening?" The boy asks me calmly. I look at him but I don't say a word. He sighs and pulls out his phone and walks over to me and cautiously sits on the bed, watching my reaction. I say nothing. He pulls out his phone and starts showing me pictures.

"Look Lane, it's you and me," he says as he continues to swipe. My jaw drops and I shake my head quickly.

"No no no no no no..."

"I think it's time you guys leave," the nurse says.

"No!" The boy yells. He's crying now. "Laney please, please remember, please. You can't forget me." I put my hands on his and take a deep breath. His eyes find mine and everything feels right. I don't want to hurt him anymore, but I know what I have to do.

"My name is Margaret," I whisper as all signs of hope drain from his face and he gets up, leaving the room without saying a thing.

I lay in my bed, staring at the wall as the woman and boy talk to the doctor outside of the room.

"I just don't get it," the boy yells, "it doesn't make any sense, how can she just forget us!? It's impossible, she doesn't even know her own name!"

"She's been through a lot Mr. Wademan, sometimes, when people are taken, they develop a love for their abductor. It's easier to believe the stories they made up in their minds than to believe the reality of the situation," a male doctor responds to them.

"But to completely forget us? That is her mother! I have known her since she was seven years old! That's not something you can just forget!" His voice becomes louder with every word, and I cover my ears with my pillow in attempts to block it out.

"I think it's time for you to leave," the doctor says coldly.