The Safety Plan

It was a stormy and rainy first weekend in June. The rain pounded on the roof and hammered the large front window. The wind howled fiercely outside. The beating rain and the erratic whipping of trees, limbs and the surf of the lake, gave them the sensation of being out to sea. The noise of the storm sometimes jolted them and sparked a tinge of panic. But they continued to remind themselves, THEY WERE SAFE…..it was just the storm. This was, after all, part of the healing process. Seth did not like loud noises and was fearful of the dark. Darkness would arrive in a few hours. It would take some reassurance and encouragement to keep Seth calm and invested in the project.

Having escaped a decade plagued with violence, conflict and abuse; Robin and her son Seth, were now on a more peaceful healing plateau in life. No more walking on eggshells and avoiding poking the bear at all costs. No more chaos, economic strife, yelling, putdowns, deciphering complex scams and lies, crying themselves to sleep or wondering what crisis the next day would bring. They were safe in an idyllic setting. A rundown family lake cabin, surrounded by wilderness, with a view of a tranquil lake. Most days were calm, peaceful, and beautiful. The only wrath to contend with was that of mother nature on stormy days. But even the wrath of a storm was cathartic, calming and healing in an odd way only survivors of repeated abuse could possibly understand.

Robin and Seth were learning new things together while healing their individual and collective wounds, through sweat, blood and tears. The small cabin was run down. This project marked their journey to healing; something they could restore, just as they would restore the once vibrant patina of their own souls. But what did a middle aged divorcee and her teenage son know about restoring an old cabin? Not much, but they both had experienced many “firsts”. They could learn how to do just about anything. Having lacked control over so many things in their life for the past 15 years; it felt hopeful to now have some control back.

They arrived at the cabin with the bare necessities….mostly tools, lots of tools. It was early June and this would be their summer project. They cleaned up a bit, evicted some unwanted critters and disinfected the tiny bathroom. Their plan was to live out there while they worked on the main part of the cabin.

With plenty of cheap pizza to eat all weekend, they began their work that Friday evening. Blasting some tunes they both enjoyed, 70’s disco, they ripped up the dank smelling, 80’s berber carpet and peeled the 70’s dark brown wood paneling off the walls. Next came the demolition of mostly rotted, moldy drywall. It was messy, dusty and smelly. It didn’t take long to realize this wasn’t going to be easy. Seth began to complain and have second thoughts. There was massive unexpected water damage in the walls, as well as a sloping floor. You could set a marble in the center of the main room and it would roll to that corner at a swift clip. Seth found some humor in that - and that was ok. At least he wasn’t complaining. Their project’s modest budget was shrinking by the minute… and this was only day one.

Still feeling hopeful they could tackle the leaky roof and the sloping floor, they turned to their bedrooms for some shut eye. It was therapeutic to peel back the cosmetic layers of the cabin and really see its true bones. If only it could have worked that way with Seth’s dad…. if only he could have been deconstructed and his layers peeled back to see what was really going on…... Hurt people, hurt people and man had he hurt them.

Nestled inside her sleeping bag, Robin stared at the ceiling. Her cell phone cast shadows around the room. She spotted a slight bulge on one of the ceiling tiles. A magnetic curiosity got the best of her. She pulled the rusty chain hanging from the single barren light bulb in the middle of the room. She climbed a short, three-legged stool to investigate further. With her phone flashlight, she lit the dark crevice created at the edge of the tile by the bulge. With caution and apprehension, she peeked. She discovered the weathered spine of what turned out to be a vinyl covered little black book.

She tugged on the spine, it easily dislodged. The pages were weathered and the writing in ink. She skimmed the contents, it looked like a woman’s handwriting. It was neat, but some entries looked more stressed than others. The pressure of the penmanship varied from entry to entry. Some writing seemed to glide on smoothly on the page, but other entries were etched into the paper. The first page was titled “Safety Plan.”

She did not need to read any further, stark recognition hit her. As Robin read, she felt a tightness in her chest and she could hear her heartbeat pounding in her head and ears. She was jolted back in time to when she herself had gone through this very exercise. The initials with obscure numbers. Cryptic dates and times. A list of possible excuses for leaving the house…… She found the page with those rehearsed excuses….. one of them read - “pipe burst at the cabin” another read “wind storm out at the lake - must go tie things down”. So discordant that these lies had to be rehearsed and written down to be effective; while the abuser’s lies emerged as plausible soliloquy. Robin could feel the tears well up and stream down her face, while the lump in her throat cut off air. She clutched the little black book, sobbed and gasped for air. She wondered what had become of this woman. Did she have any kids? And most importantly…… Did she get away and was she safe!!?????

Robin laid back and let the tears flow as she clutched the book to her chest. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on deep breaths. SHE WAS SAFE…..She had been one of the lucky ones. She and Seth had been able to stay safe and survive the dozens of close calls, thanks to HER safety plan. The last encounter with Seth’s dad was when he broke into their house. She was jerked back to that terrifying moment instantly. Her mind played the scenes of that evening like a movie. She had narrowly survived that night. This had been five years ago, but she saw it all clearly play in her mind…..It was dissociation, a scar still left from years of accumulated trauma.

Her triggered emotions bounced her back to thinking about the owner of the black book. Who was she? What had happened to her? Robin labored to calm her mind and fall asleep. In the morning she would gather additional clues.

The glowing sunlight spilling through the window, warmed her face and woke Robin up. Her hand stiff, clutching the book. She sat up, took a deep cleansing breath and tentatively opened the book. She fanned the pages quickly flipping through, fearful she might be sucked down another emotional rabbit hole. A loose page fell out. It contained a drawing. She flipped the page around and around to pinpoint it’s intended orientation. It was a map. A sketch of the footprint of the cabin, there was a $ in the corner opposite from the sloping corner in the main room. There was also a circle with the words “go bag” outside the perimeter of the cabin.

Robin slipped her feet into her work shoes and ran outside to find the circle on the map labeled “go bag”. Clear blue skies framed the day. The ground was still wet and the air smelled clean. She ran to the outside wall, referenced on the map, and located a covered metal round garbage can. This could be the spot. She took the lid off and dropped it….except for a large rock at the bottom, it was empty. Maybe Hope had used her go bag at some point? She picked the lid up and noticed that the garbage can was sitting on a thick concrete square. This had never seemed odd before…. but this time a pang of curiosity nudged her and she moved the can off of the concrete square. She kicked the coroner of the square to see if it would budge. It moved. It took some effort but she was able to stand it on end propped up against the house. Under the slab was dirt on plastic sheeting. She removed the plastic sheet to find some sort of lid flush with the ground. A container buried in a perfectly contoured hole. The lid was a snap on lid, so she swept the dirt away with her fingers and pried it open. Inside this capsule-like container was a bright orange tote with two handles, a zipper and a latch; much like a doctor’s bag. Her interest peaked, her heart was racing. The implication of the bag still being there haunted her thoughts. She brought the bag into the cabin.

She called for Seth. A sleepy, confused teen appeared in the doorway of his bedroom. Robin talked a mile a minute trying to catch him up. When she mentioned the map - his eyes opened wide and he was intrigued. She showed him the map - he quickly zoomed in on the $ sign in the corner and turned to the kitchen. The money sign tracked as being located under the corner of the giant metal Youngstown Kitchen sink cabinet that spanned the whole length of the far wall. He scratched his head and said, “how are we going to move that thing?” Robin reminded him the plan was to demo the kitchen that day, so they got to it.

The cabinet was massive, heavy and solid. They took off anything they could. Seth got under the sink and disconnected the water source and plumbing. While under there he noticed a loose tin plate over a hole in the floor of the cabinet. He pulled that out and he could see dirt. It was a hole looking directly under the foundation of the cabin. He shined his cell phone light into the hole. Making sure it was safe he stuck his hand in and felt around. Directly under the edge he felt a long rectangular object. It wasn’t heavy and it was loose. He pulled it out. It was a tall rectangular tin of Nabisco Premium saltine crackers. He brought it over to the main room where Robin was sitting in the middle of the floor, looking through the contents of the orange bag and sobbing.

Sitting on the floor next to the other contents of the bag were 5 bundles of rolled up bills. Seth was confused, but sat down next to his mom and picked up one of the bundles of cash. He counted it and found twenty $100 dollar bills. “Holy crap mom, that’s 10 g’s here!!!!”, he exclaimed. Robin was still sobbing, while holding some papers in her hand. Seth had forgotten about the saltine tin. He grabbed it and opened it. Out fell 5 more rolls of bills. His eyes widened. He opened one of those bundles and counted it, another two grand in $100 dollar bills. “Make that 20 g’s”, he said jumping up skipping around his mom and all the stuff on the floor. “We’re rich mom, we’re rich.” “They’re dead Seth, he killed them.” Robin said between sobs.

Seth was so confused. He was elated they had just literally found a bag of money and his mom was going on and on about people being killed. What the heck was going on? Robin took a deep breath and explained it all to Seth. He had been too young to really understand the go bag, or most of the ins and outs of their Safety Plan. All he knew was the safe word they had established and the phone numbers of 3 trusted friends, which he could still recall instantly. At that point - Seth asked “Who did dad kill???” with a look of horror in his eyes.

Robin said, “no, not your dad, honey, Margaret’s husband - Ricky’s dad”. “Who the heck are Margaret and Ricky????” asked Seth bewildered. Hope was now Margaret. Robin showed him the identity papers she found in the orange bag. She told him the only reason those things were still there was because they had not been able to get away. On her cell phone was a link to an old newspaper article detailing the tragic death of Margaret and Ricky Sutterland (age 10) in a 1979 house fire. The fire had been ruled arson and her husband Logan Sutterland had been convicted of their murder. They sat there processing everything. It was a lot. It hit them both like a ton of bricks and they embraced and cried inconsolably.

Seth’s elation from finding the money had vanished. They dried each other’s tears and they knew what they needed to do. They stuffed the full twenty grand worth of bundles into the saltine tin and got in the car. Seth clutched the tin as they drove into town. They drove to the local office of Project Safe, walked up to the locked door holding hands and rang the bell. They handed the tin to the person with the name tag that answered the door. They said it was a donation on behalf of Margaret and Ricky Sutterland and walked away.