“I understand that this is going to be difficult for you to talk about, Colleen, but I need you to tell me as much as you know. Just start from the beginning and tell me what you remember.” 

The man sitting across from me claims that he works for the FBI. He wants to talk to me about my story; my horror story. His light blue button-down shirt looks clean and unworn and his hair is glossy and combed. My eyes drift from his head down to the wooden table in front of me.

“Colleen?” My attention was stolen by the man's voice and I realized he was waiting for me to talk. So I began.

 “I learned I could go anywhere in my mind. I just remove myself from the real situation and go somewhere else. Somewhere safe. But now, when I think I’ve found safety, I think again.” 

I saw the man shift in his seat as he prepared to pull information out of me. He knew this would be difficult for me to explain. 

“The baby blue Dodge Colt pulled up next to me. I peered in and noticed that it was a couple who looked to be in their early 20s. The woman was holding a little boy as she sat in the passenger seat with a sweet smile on her face. Seeing the child gave me a sense of trust in the family. 

‘Where ya headed?’ the man driving the car asked with a comforting tone in his voice. As he spoke, he raised his dark eyebrows just a touch, showing me his curiosity and desire to hear where I was going. 

‘Oregon hopefully; think I could catch a ride?’ Surely this was my best option so far, I was positive about that. 

I should’ve thought twice. 

‘Yeah sure, hop in!’ The woman encouraged, with the same smile from before. The enthusiasm in her voice was reassuring and in a way it was comforting. 

I walked to the back door on the passenger side and tugged on the handle, pulling the car door open. The interior of the car was tan and slightly worn, but that was as expected. I slid into the car, ducking to not hit my head on the roof. 

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.’ The woman hinted towards the question, peering into the rearview mirror to watch me answer.

‘Colleen,’ I answered her quickly and without hesitation. I found that the key to conversating with strangers who have control over your life at that moment is to come across as confident. 

‘It’s very nice to meet you, Colleen. I’m Janice and this is Cameron. And this little one here is Ben.’ As she spoke, she turned around to face me and raised Ben’s hand; waiving it side to side as she introduced him. He looked to be younger than two so the couple must be young also. As the woman continued to speak, her smile faded. After a few seconds, it became more of a grin than a smile. Until this moment I hadn’t noticed how cold her expressions were. They almost looked forced. 

We reached a rest stop about 30 minutes into the drive. Cameron slowly pulled into a parking spot in the almost empty lot. 

‘I’m so sorry for this little delay, but you might want to hit the restroom while we're here.’ Cameron suggested as he stepped out of the driver's seat.

‘We’ll just be a second.’ The woman added as she too stood up, out of the car.

I debated whether or not to go inside the small convenience store. Something about this wasn’t sitting right with me but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. After a few seconds of consideration, I figured I might as well just go to the bathroom since we're here and I have the time. 

I walked up to the front of the store and tugged on the door handle, not expecting it to be as heavy as it was. A loud bell chimed above my head as I pulled the door open, making me look up at them. Glancing around the store, I saw about four isles filled with the usual snacks and candies, picked over by little children who beg their mothers for a quick snack. I made my way toward the restrooms and waited patiently for the woman before me to leave as I observed more about the run-down convenience store. As I started looking towards the wall in front of me from across the hall, the door to the bathroom creaked open. The woman made her way out and it was my turn to go.

Before I left the bathroom I glanced up at my reflection in the small mirror. At this moment, I heard a voice in my head. A loud one. Why was my head shouting at me?

Go. Run. Jump out the window and never look back.

There it was again. 

 I thought it was just my mind trying to mess with me. They had been nothing but nice and the man was hardly likely to do anything to me in front of his wife. I tried to dry my hands on the last paper towel, leaving them slightly damp as I left the bathroom. There wasn’t anyone waiting in line to use the bathroom when I walked out, so I let the door shut loudly behind me and I walked toward the car.

A few minutes later the couple returned to the car and handed me a small bag of candy. 

‘We weren’t sure what you liked so we just got smarties,’ Janice glanced at the rearview mirror through her glasses, making eye contact with me.

‘Oh, thank you.’ I was appreciative, but I was partially confused as to why they bought this for me. Regardless I smiled at her and ripped open my smarties.

The car slowly came to a stop once we had gotten off the main road. Cameron stepped out of the car first and I began to reach for the door handle. As soon as the door cracked open, it was forced shut. My heart dropped and my eyes closed. I didn’t want to see what was about to happen. I opened my eyes to the sight of Cameron towering over me, his hand at my throat. I couldn't see a knife in his hand, but I knew there was one. 

‘Put your hands above your head.’ He demanded. 

For a moment I just froze, paralyzed with terror. 

He repeated, ‘Put your hands above your damn head, Colleen!’ He was louder this time and I could feel the cold metal of the knife now pressing harder against my neck. I obeyed his command and raised my shaking hands towards my head. He grabbed them and put me in handcuffs with no hesitation. Then he wrapped a blindfold around my eyes, tightly. That was the moment when my seven years of darkness had officially begun. 

But he didn’t stop there. He put on what I think was a jaw strap, restricting me from moving my mouth; silencing my terror. I felt my feet being forced out from under me, then they were tied together. Tight. I was laying down now in the backseat where I was sitting unharmed only a few minutes ago. Something hard bumped my head but it didn’t seem to be purposeful. Then I heard something being locked by both of my ears. Suddenly, everything went silent. The air was hot and still, making it difficult to breathe. I was left with nothing but my petrified self, and the overwhelming thoughts circling my mind. My head was spinning and it felt like my body was taken over by fear.” My mind began to wander off as I told my story to the man sitting across from me, and I found myself verbally reflecting on the mental trauma I was facing. But that’s not what this agent wants to hear.

“Collen, I understand this is hard for you to talk about, and you are experiencing lots of emotions right now, but I need you to try and tell me what happened next. Did he let you out of the head box?” The man sitting across from me didn’t care about what was going on in my mind. He just wanted to know what they would be writing about in the news articles. How would they tell the world what happened to this poor woman over the past seven years? He had a concerned look on his face, probably masking an unbothered expression. 

“Well, he covered me up with a suitcase and then kept driving for a while. Two hours must have passed before we got to their home. I think they were waiting for it to become nighttime before they snuck me inside the house. I felt the smallest bit of relief when I heard the locks being undone by my ears, just knowing that the silence would stop and I would breathe fresh air again. Even if it was only for a few minutes, I held on to the small ounce of what I could consider freedom. Freedom from the box. My ankles were untied and I was brought down into the basement. I had no idea where this house was located, I didn’t even know what it looked like yet. 

I was placed on top of a big chest freezer, still standing, still blindfolded, still handcuffed, still terrified. He chained my hands to a pipe above my head and I felt my freedom being ripped away from me once again.” Tears began to roll down my face as I began to tell him the next part of my story. He sat up in his chair, fixing his posture, and slightly leaned towards me. Letting me know he was ready for me to continue. 

I complied, “He took my clothes off piece by piece. Starting with my shoes and my socks, followed by my old blue jeans. My favorite jeans. Before he removed my underwear he began to remove my shirt. He released my right hand from the cuffs and pulled the shirt off of my right arm. Then he cuffed my hand once again and switched to my left hand; releasing it, pulling my shirt off, and tying me back up. Through my crippling fear, I could feel Cameron’s hands trembling as he continued to expose me. 

His hands kept shaking as he replaced the metal handcuffs with stiff leather cuffs and then suddenly I was hanging by my wrists. Cameron pulled the freezer out from under my feet abruptly, leaving my hands to bear all my weight. 

*CRACK!* A whip sent a wave of heat across my back.

*CRACK* Another strike hit my bare stomach.

I don’t know that there is a single word in the dictionary that could describe the pain and fear that I was facing at that moment as I hung from the ceiling. 

After the next few whips, I learned that he would stop if I laid still and silent. I tried to distract myself by exploring the areas in the room I could see from under my blindfold. In the corner of the room, I noticed a stack of pornographic magazines resting on some sort of wooden box; the top one had a woman, hanging the same way I was, on the cover. It was almost like he was using me to live out his sick fantasies. Only, it wasn’t almost like he was using me. He was using me; to satisfy his own torturous dreams. But his dreams were my worst nightmares.

 I closed my eyes and let my mind wander as he left me hanging from the ceiling. I couldn’t focus on any of the thoughts in my head and I kept asking myself the same questions, What did I do to deserve this horror? Why me; why did he choose me as his victim?” My eyes snapped to the table as the man placed his coffee mug back down on the table next to his pen. I continued, “Cameron returned to the room and put something under my feet, giving me the slightest bit of support. I alternated between standing on my tiptoes and hanging by my wrists, utilizing the small ounce of relief I was given. Almost a minute later I heard the woman enter the room, whispering to Cameron. The noises were muffled from under my blindfold and as I peered through it I could see the couple removing their own clothes. My heart dropped and I held my eyes closed as tight as possible. Their whispers became moans, and I wished I could plug my ears but my arms were still bound to the ceiling. I knew what was happening but I didn’t want to face my realization. I let my mind drift and take me to a place far from there. I was able to live another life inside of my head and I would come and visit every time Janice and Cameron began their whispers. 

But my visit was always cut short by Cameron. This time I was forced back into reality when he pulled the support out from under my feet. I was left to hang for a while and when he came back he released me from the ceiling. My arms were limp and numb and it felt as if I would never move them again. But I also was feeling emotions of relief. I had no idea what he would do with me then. I prayed that he would kill me. I prayed that I wouldn’t have to endure the torture anymore. Anything was better than that. Anything.” As I spoke I picked the dirt out of my bitten fingernails while my hands rest on my lap. Observing my nails, I noticed my hands were trembling and sweaty. I still couldn’t believe that I was telling someone what Cameron did to me. For the past seven years I have done nothing but think over and over about these moments because I knew that if I ever did find safety, I would need to know as much as possible about what I went through. I knew I would need to know the details. 

“Colleen, Colleen, are you alright?” The man had a concerned look on his face. I must have zoned out for a minute. 

“Yes, I’m fine.” I paused for a few seconds, “I’m fine,” I repeated as if it would have made him believe me. He knew I was not fine. I knew I was not fine. I pretended I was okay with sharing this story, but it’s tearing me apart. 

“I had felt relief for only a minute after being released from the ceiling. The minute passed and I heard the same horrifying noise of the box being locked onto my head. It was happening again; the silence. At first, only my head and neck were sealed in this still, hot box. But I was filled with even more fear when my arms were lifted off the ground and my body was dragged to the other side of the room. From what I could tell it was the area where I saw the magazines. Then I remembered what was under them; the wooden box. He was going to lock me in the box. At that moment, I knew that my life was no longer about living. It was about surviving.” I paused here for a moment, not knowing what to say next. The man stayed still and silent. I wished he would say something. Anything he could say would be better than the silence. I had heard enough of it over the past seven years. 

“How often did Cameron let you out of the box?” Finally, he broke the silence. 

“It felt like he never did. The box was not only silent, but it was also dark; so dark. I don’t know how to explain what total darkness like that does to a human soul. I was usually let out of the box for an hour a day, and during that time I was fed. He would chain me by my ankles to a rack, removing some of my restraints so that I was able to feed myself. He kept my wrists chained and they hung down from my hands as I searched for the food on the plate placed in front of me. Once I had finished eating, the headbox was reclamped onto my head and I was put back in my box. There were many times when I went a full day, if not more, between each meal. But I didn’t notice most of the time. I never had a full understanding of how many days had passed while I was in the box. I would consider it morning when I heard neighbors’ cars pulling out of their driveways, probably on their way to work. And I would know it was nighttime when Cameron would take me out of my box and hurt me. But all the fear and anxiety left me with little, to no appetite. Cameron didn’t like this. If he told me to eat, I must eat. And if I refused, he would hang me up and beat me until I was unconscious.”

“Colleen, did Cameron speak to you while any of this was happening?” As the man spoke his eyebrows wrinkled, creating a confused and uncomfortable expression on his face. 

“Honestly, I can’t remember. He might have mumbled a few sentences here and there, but most of my captivity was spent in silence. At least for the first few years, it was. Over time I was given more freedom; from the box and from him. He would let his humanity show for small amounts of time. Sometimes only for a few seconds. But I held onto these moments; moments of normalcy. It was my way of survival. And I realized, eventually, that this wasn’t normal. This wasn’t the way normal people lived. 

It’s hard to explain the emotions I have towards Cameron because it’s even harder for me to understand them. I’m embarrassed to admit that I don’t hate the man. Anyone looking at my situation from the outside is going to criticize me for not escaping when I had so many chances to, but I didn’t want to escape. Cameron has made me into a completely different person through the abuse that I faced, not only physically but also emotionally. The years of abuse created an indescribable fear that surrounded me like air. My fear was the biggest thing preventing me from running as far away from that place as possible.” 

“What made you finally build up the courage to escape? What changed?” He sat up in his chair, once again, and prepared to hear me answer his final question.

“Janice changed. After years of emotional abuse that she was facing from Cameron, she finally realized that he would never love her the way she wanted him to. When he first kidnapped me, they had one rule that he couldn’t break. He was not allowed to have sexual intercourse with me. She thought that by preventing him from having sex with me, he would look to her to fulfill his desires. But she was wrong and she discovered that the hard way. She came to me and admitted that Cameron had brainwashed both of us into depending on him for survival. She told me that before I was kidnapped, there was another woman who he tried to make his ‘slave’, but he ended up murdering her before they could even bring her home. 

And before that woman was kidnapped, Janice was. Cameron had been abusing Janice and trapped her into a life full of lies that she would eventually uncover. Janice agreed to let Cameron find another woman to release his torturous desires on so that he would stop hurting her. But after seven years of my captivity, Cameron admitted to wanting me as a second wife. Janice wasn’t happy about this and deep down she had always been envious of the attention that Cameron had been giving me, even if that attention was in the form of abuse. 

When Janice decided to help me escape, she was only doing it so that she could have Cameron back to herself. She believed that Cameron could be rehabilitated and could change. But shortly after I escaped, she learned that she was wrong, and Cameron would never be the man she wanted him to be.

 Janice is the reason that I am here today, telling you my story. Cameron Hooker hung me by my wrists while holding a flame to my skin, and watched as my skin burned and I screamed in pain. He hung me upside down and held live electrical wires to my body, enjoying the sight of me trembling and praying that my life would be taken from me. He pushed me past my breaking point and found pleasure in it. 

Janice is the woman who confessed to the world who the monster, Cameron Hooker, is. But I am the woman who told the world what the monster, Cameron Hooker, is capable of. And ever since I stepped out of that house, I’ve had this feeling. A feeling like I’m safe, but I’m not. Like someone out there cares about what happened to me, but they don’t. Like I belong somewhere else, anywhere else but here.”

I became lost in my mind once again. I tried to go back to the world I had created in my head, but it was now polluted. My thoughts were destroying me. I tried not to think, but without my thoughts to mask the quiet, the silence tore me apart.