Three Years Below

On a small farm of bright green grass sits a beautiful tiny home. It has white trim and is decorated with little plastic yellow butterflies. It's pink on the outside with little plants below a bay window and small walkway of grey-and-white stone that leads to a driveway about ten feet away. To the right of the tiny home are two small donkeys perched up behind a cute little white fence, like props in a postcard.

I’ve always had this fascination with tiny houses-so much that I'm willing to spend a pretty penny for that perfect little home.

I was scrolling through Facebook Marketplace when I came across this posting from what looked like a sweet older lady named Diane. The description had many typos but it says she’s disabled and currently looking for someone to stay on her farm and help out when needed.

I decided to send her a message and introduce myself to help her feel more comfortable with who would be staying on her property.

“Hello Diane, my name is Lizzy and I am 19 years old. I currently live with my loving grandparents and although I enjoy being here, I’ve been saving up for my own place and specifically a tiny home. I do not have any animals and I am single with no kids so it will just be me!. I consider myself a very trustworthy person and always willing to be a helping hand!. You have a very beautiful home and I am absolutely interested if you’ll have me! Thank you so much for giving my message a read and I hope I'll be speaking with you about further details!! :)

I set my phone down and fantasized the little life I’d be creating and this amazing opportunity. My phone buzzed with a notification from Diane less than a minute later.

“Thankz for giving my land attention and I’m grateful you are interested in my property. I would like to meet you in person dear if you can swing by today at 3:45 pm sharp and pleeease put on a light pink dress. Drive South of Cherry’s Diner and take a right after Fred’s Mini Mart. Pull into the driveway with the pink mailbox. See you soon dear”.

How odd.

It is currently 3:17, and Cherry’s Diner is a 15 minute drive from my grandparents giving me barely any time to spare. I bolt out of my chair and put my glass of tea in the sink. I don’t have much light pink clothing except for my special-occasion church dress that fits me like a glove. I snatch it out of my closet and jump into my car.

I’m getting ready to make the right turn after Fred’s Mini Mart, I have this excitement with a mixture of dread on being late and missing this amazing opportunity. I spot the pink mailbox and put my car in park to change into my pink dress as my clock flashes 3:43. I pull into the driveway and follow it all the way down until I see the tiny home that sits about fifty feet away from an older home with a wraparound porch.

I put my car in park and turned off the ignition. I check my reflection from my window before I step out and fix my dress. There’s no sign of Diane but I spot a sticky note on the front door of the tiny home and make my way down the stone.

“The home is fully furnished and ready to move in, feel free to settle in and I’ll be by shortly with some dessert”.

The outside looks even better than the pictures as I get another rush of excitement. I open the door to be greeted with the smell of blueberries and a music box playing soft jazz.

To the right of the front door is this white dining table with a set of tea pots and a cup of steaming tea. I walk across large checkered floors, the kitchen has light blue cabinets and tons of fake cakes on the counter-tops, like decorations in a bakery window. Straight ahead from the front door sits a room with a twin sized bed against the wall. A light pink canopy drapes around the mattress and hangs from white iron bars that almost touch the ceiling.

I hear a knock at the front door and there, I see Diane with the biggest smile and holding what looks to be key lime pie.

“A welcome home dessert just for you dear”.

I approach Diane and give her a big hug and “thank you” as she makes her way back to her house.

I take a seat at the dining table and proceed to make myself at home.

I dip my fork into the key lime pie that has no flavor, I try to wash it down with some tea but quite frankly it doesn’t have flavor either. My first thought was to check under my mattress for sugar as though that was normal. I laughed at the thought but decided to check anyway. I run my hands under the mattress till my hand brushes over a small rectangular plastic container. I pull it out and let out a little chuckle.

A pastel blue miniature fridge for a tiny doll house.

I lay it flat on its back and pull the tiny handle to reveal twelve small sugars in the shapes of circles.

I make my way back to the table and drop a sugar in my tea and give it a little stir.

I take my first sip and it already suits my needs. My head starts pounding as my body grows sore and weak. I have this sudden need to lay down but my tea looks weird.

I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths in and out before I open my eyelids again. I gasp and fall back onto cold hard cement.

No longer in a cute fairy-tale home. The walls are ugly and filled with black stains. The smell in here is so livid that I get lightheaded. I try to sit up but have to wait for my vision to properly restore itself.

I lay with my eyes closed while I take another set of deep breaths. I roll over on my side and slowly open my eyelids again.

In the middle of the room is a pink run down doll house and to the right is a cardboard box with words in crayon that says “Cherry’s Diner”. My heart drops as I cry out in pain and fear when reality hits me.

Fred’s Mini Mart is a small grocery store from an old children’s play set.

I then hear muffled music and rapid movement outside a metal door as though someone is rushing down a set of stairs. I grip onto my knees and lay in a fetal position and with a few clicks of locks unlatching, the door swung open.

Jazz music, the same one from Diane’s tiny home. My grandma rushes over and wraps me in her arms.

“It’s okay dear, I got you. Breathe in and out. You’re having another one of your panic attacks dear, it isn’t real.”

Diane. Diane was never Diane. The fantasy was mine-a place my mind built to escape these four cement walls.

There was a shift in my brain and a surge of adrenaline.

I need to get out of here

“Grandma,” I whisper, “will you please have a cup of tea with me?”.

I pull myself out of her grasp, collect my small plastic tea cup, and walk over to a children's kitchen set with blue cabinets and fake cakes on the small rectangular counter-top.

My body is weak and skin so pale as though I haven't seen the light of day in weeks, or months, maybe even years.

“I would love a cup of tea with you dear”.

She says with a smile on her face as though she’s a sweet innocent old lady.

It’s time the truth comes out

I pour two cups of water from a small tea pot and set them in a miniature microwave. The little timer goes off and sets back to the original time, flashing the numbers 3:43.

I pick up two small tea bags that my grandma provides on a small tray when she brings a blueberry jam sandwich for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

I walk to the right of the kitchen to a small corner of the cement basement that sits two small chairs and a tiny table. I collect the miniature fridge and make my way back to our cups of tea.

“Take a seat at the table grandma and I will be right over.”

With a warm smile, she slowly stands up. She's far too big to be sitting in these tiny chairs but so am I. Grandma makes a few grunts as she plops down and lets out a sigh.

“I will get you brand-new little chairs dear, how does that sound?”

I smile knowing I won’t be spending another day in this basement.

I shift my attention back to the steaming cups of water and pour the entire supply of anxiety medications into her tea and give it a good stir before hiding it below the tea bag.

I try to pass time by preparing fake key lime pie cake slices on two small plates. I make my way to the table as my hands are shaky and my breath raggedy. I position myself to fall into the tiny chair knowing my body is far too weak to adjust in slow movements. I let out a cry of pain before I slid my grandma her portion of tea and cake.

“Thank you so much dear but I won’t be drinking from this dirty cup”

My eyes grow watery and vision blurry as tears fall down my cheeks.

I can’t lose this opportunity

“Grandma please drink this tea with me, we don’t spend much time together and I know all you want to do is make me happy. This quality time will truly put a smile on my face.”

She wipes a tear off my cheek as I flinch but disguise it with a smile. Hesitantly she picks up her cup with a look of disgust. A few moments later she takes a sip and I place my hand at the bottom of her cup and push up.

“All of it grandma, if you want to make me happy”

I say, with a large smile on my face.

She sets her cup down and gags before she stands up and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Lizzy, that tea is disgustingly bitter, these cups need to get cleaned dear”.

I smile and hurriedly pick up her cup before she spots the white powder coating the bottom.

“Let me clear our tea bags in my sink before you take it upstairs”.

I shuffle in fast movements to the mini kitchen sink and rapidly try to scoop the bottom of the cup with a tiny spoon. I throw the cup in the sink and grab a different one and when I turn around with hands rapidly shaking, I see my grandma crawling on all fours towards the metal door.

“Lizzy what in the, what did you do, I can’t, I don’t feel good Lizzy”

Grandma says, as she’s losing conscience.

“Now, now, grandma. Breath in and out. Go set yourself on that tiny bed and make yourself at home. It’s all yours now.”

I don’t hesitate to run out of the door and up the stairs as the air is already fresher than what I've been living in.

My heart is pounding as I approach the last few top steps to another door that is propped open. I swung it open and there I stood in the kitchen, the one I thought I would be enjoying dinner in. On the counter-tops sits hills of dried food, a stack of black buckets, and three coolers filled with water bottles. This was for me. She was never planning on letting me out. I was going to die there and the possibility of never being found made my heart sink.

I was never supposed to make it out.. but I did.

“I didn’t have a great life growing up, my parents were never really in the picture so I was in and out of foster homes.

I grew dependent on anxiety medications and antidepressants as it keeps myself stable.

I lost many jobs over the years due to it affecting my day to day life.

I needed a place to stay while I saved up and my grandma just so happened to be sweet enough to offer me her home.

The deal was to help take care of a few donkeys and house chores as my pawpaw was disabled and getting worse by the day.

I had been living in my car for about 2 years after running away from my foster home so I was more than willing to take this opportunity.

Upon walking into my grandma's house, I was filled with excitement to finally have a bed of my own instead of a car.

My pawpaw sat propped up on his sofa in the living room coughing up a lung.

They needed me and I was willing to be that helping hand.

I was prepping sandwiches in the kitchen when my grandma asked me to grab a box in the basement.

I made my way down the steep stairs to four enclosed walls of cement. There were two buckets next to a hole that drops about six feet under and a few feet away, sat a child’s bed with white iron bars and a little bit of rust.

The set up made me feel eerie, the pink dollhouse in the middle of the room, the tiny chairs and kitchen.

The metal door slams shut and I lunge for the handle but it was already too late. I screamed and pleaded to not be left down there but I knew I was stuck.

I took my anxiety medications out of my pocket and washed one down with spit. I pinch myself to see if there was a possibility I would wake up and it would all be a bad dream.

Ever since then, I would imagine a life in my head to escape my reality.

I couldn’t let my grandma find my pills so I poured the remaining medications in a toy fridge and hid them under the tiny mattress that sat on the cement floor.

I had to listen, act as though I was a child, obey and follow the rules.

I was going to escape, I just needed the right moment.”

I sit in questioning telling my story to detective Williams.

I was missing for three years and left with a haunting question.

Where’s pawpaw?