Safe Haven

Winter was settling over Milwaukee as fifteen-year-old Samantha Cunningham gazed out of the attic window of the otherwise uninhabited, yet fully staged, two-story house on Mockingbird Trail. The 'model home' had become not only her refuge from the cold, but a safe haven from the abuse at home. "Mom never believed me," she said to herself, tears pooling in her sad, green eyes.

In Samantha's left hand was a miniature 2023 calendar; in her right, the stub of a pencil. "I just can't believe it's already Christmas eve," she said, counting the Xs backward, each X representing a day she hadn't started…Seventy-two!" she cried, realizing the reason for her occasional queasiness and upchucking. "Or could just be hunger pains," she whispered in hopeful denial as she looked down at her empty, yet puggy stomach, her jeans too tight to snap. I should have left sooner, she sighed, her eyes returning to the window in time to catch a few snowflakes float to the ground while others accumulated on the for-sale sign in the yard, the wind having shifted position just enough to read the sign: Safe Haven Realty, Margaret Reed, Realtor. Yellow flags flapping in the breeze, advertising Open House today 2-5, brought a look of hope on Samantha's pretty but hollow face. "Oh, good, Margaret is coming today, hope she brings a lot of food this time," she said to herself, rubbing her aching stomach; just thinking of it made her mouth water and tummy growl.

Samantha has been living in her safe place a month now, ever since Margaret held her first open house on Mockingbird Trail, the same day Samantha escaped from her unsafe environment.

It was the yellow flags of the Safe Haven for-sale sign that waved her down and invited her in. Perhaps seeking shelter from the cold or mere hunger that gave her the courage she needed to follow the family—looking to buy a new home—inside. Strangely, only the children noticed her intrusion, and she was able to escape detection by the adults, including Margaret, the realtor. Samantha was able to hide out until everybody was gone and the model home on Mockingbird Trail became her home, away from home. Luckily, Margaret never learned how to set the alarm system and was either scared of it or embarrassed to ask for help, or so Margaret said to the party on the other end of her cellular phone. Margaret also left the utilities on, so the little squatter was able to stay warm, sleep in the luxuriously made king bed, use the toilet, shower, even wash, more like, rinse and dry her one tethered outfit using the washer/dryer already installed.

Yes, Margaret Reed was quite the 'stager' indeed, supplying all four bathrooms with fancy his/her towels hanging on gold-looking rods and all essential and nonessential toiletries displayed in fancy wicker baskets. Not wanting to blow her cover, Smanatha made sure the towels and linens were washed and dried and put back the way she found them before Margaret returned for her next open house. The only things Margaret didn't think of providing/supplying were laundry detergent and shampoo. Plain body soap doesn't clean my hair good, Samantha scowled, running her fingers through her long and oily brown hair. A few times, Margaret's offerings weren't sufficient to tide Samantha over until the next open house came along, so she had to abandon the comfort of indoors and venture out onto the bleak streets of Milwaukee to scrounge up some food. Fortunately, there were churches on nearly every corner.

The Pastor there was very strict and grouchy and asked her too many questions that she refused to answer, and he called the cops; even reported her as a 'runaway.' To make matters worse, she was not given any food and out of hungry desperation, she stole some and ran back to her safe spot on Mockingbird Trail. Boy, if stepdad ever found out I stole food, he'd beat me for sure, her body trembling at the thought.