From Behind the Eyes of My Escape From a Cult

"I will get away this time," I thought. "But I must be smarter."

I take in my surroundings. The humid summer air is stifling. All the lights are out in the lake house below as I imagine that any unknowing observer would suspect nothing out of the ordinary. If people only knew what really goes on inside those walls. To be honest it’s hard for me to believe, myself.

I’ve been staring blankly into the black sky for hours. Unable to sleep, I’ve been lying here on the floor, motionless, struggling to keep my focus. I keep re-running my plan in my head. It has to work.

Ten feet away, I hear our German Shepards, Metric and Jessie stir in their cages. I can smell the remnants of their dog food. I’m afraid the dogs can sense my anxiety. If they begin barking, they’ll awaken everybody. One of the bonuses of my position in the group right now is that I’ve worked my way so far down the food chain that I currently sleep in the garage with the dogs. I’m literally, “in the doghouse.”

It’s time. I exhale. I slowly rise …

My reflection in the garage door window jars me. My shaved head. Gaunt, sunken eyes. You’d think after three months I’d be used to my appearance by now. But I’m not.

I look like a convict. And I feel like one, too. I feel ashamed and guilty. And why shouldn’t I? I volunteered for this life. I committed fully to our cause, with my whole heart and soul. I promised I’d stay through till the end. But along the way, something went wrong. All I knew was that I didn’t sign up for this feeling of utter and unending hopelessness.

How did this happen?

We were supposed to save the world. I know that sounds laughable. But it’s true.

How could anyone outside our group ever understand? No one ever will, but I have to leave anyway. So much has changed over a decade and a half. There’s so much that doesn’t make sense, and so much I wish I could forget. I don’t know what to believe anymore.

As I look outside, I listen for the sounds of the night, trying to distinguish if there was any indication of human activity.

Everyone must be asleep. I pray that I’m right.

Jessie lets out a whimper. I walk over to her, giving both her and Metric a soft petting. These two are the only ones I’m going to miss around here.

It’s time to make the call. But dialing out isn’t easy. My cell phone doesn’t get service up here on the mountain. The phone system throughout the main house and garage is linked, so anytime I pick up a landline, a red light goes on, alerting everyone about where I am. Even though it’s the middle of the night, I can’t risk it.

My only hope is the fax machine. It’s not connected to the main system. I will have to take the chance that no one will hear me. I can’t get caught. Not again.

I pick up the fax receiver and press the keys as gently as possible, afraid that even the faint beeping will set off the dogs. The call goes through and begins to ring. I hope to God there’s a graveyard shift dispatcher on duty. It’s so late. I feel so alone.

I’m both impatient and desperate as I count each ring. Please, someone please be there. Please answer. Three, four, five rings go by. Someone finally answers on the sixth. I try to talk, but I’ve got cottonmouth. I clear my throat, hating myself for making any noise. I tell myself to just act normal.

I whisper, keeping my voice very low and steady. “Hello, yes. I’d like to order a cab from Lake Lure to Asheville airport. … Yes, now. … Twenty minutes? Yes, that’s fine. … Can they pick me up in the parking lot of the Point of View restaurant? … Yes, thank you.”

I hang up the phone. It’s going to be tight, but I should make. It’s about a mile and a half down the mountain.  I grab my duffel bag.

As my final task, I place a yellow notepad on the desk with my handwritten words. It feels like I’m leaving a suicide note.

By the time you read this, I’ll be gone.

For months, I’ve been telling myself I can make it through the summer. But I just can’t tolerate my daily deception. I can’t stand lying to your faces. I see you all busting your asses all day and yet, all I can think about is leaving.

I’m sorry I’ve let you down. After the countless hours and energy, you have all spent trying to get me to remember Frederick and what he stood for, leaving in the night is how I repay you. I cringe to think of how God will punish me. As if it was not bad enough to betray Frederick, now I am betraying the rest of you.      

The truth is, I do not belong here. My selfish bullshit has been holding you all back from doing the important work. I have been wasting your valuable time. I know you all will achieve great things without me.

You will never see me again,

I slowly open the garage door. It sticks slightly, creating an audible rattle. I cringe. I look back at the dogs. They look at me with curiosity but remain silent. My heart sinks. They have no idea that this is goodbye. I wish I could set them free, too.

The damp air floods my nostrils. I close the door behind me. I listen. Crickets. A slight breeze. The moon is out but it’s still hard to see. The mountain air feels heavy in my lungs.

I creep forward, stepping out onto the gravel driveway. Each step crunches. There’s no way to avoid it. Every crackle churns my stomach. Adrenaline pulses through my veins.

"Stay calm. Just one step after another. Go slowly. You can do this," I assure myself.

Every creak, every breath, triggers my worst fear. Someone will hear.

Please, God, don’t let me be caught – not again.

I know they’ll follow me. My only chance is to get a good head start.  To go somewhere that they’ll never find me. I am not coming back.

Not here.

Anywhere but here.

Below the ridge, I observe the main house. All the lights are out. The house looks peaceful. Almost serene. What a joke.

Despite the quiet surroundings, I hear the voices in my head.

“You ego-maniacal, self-centered piece of shit! You are worthless! How do you even live with yourself?!! You should just kill yourself and put all of us out of our misery of having to deal with you! The problem is you’re too much of pussy to even do that. Aren’t you…?”

Those words thunder through my cranium invoking a heightened state of paranoia. I wish I could shut out the relentless insults and taunts, but I’ve heard them over and over, every night, for years. In fact, I can’t even remember a time when I didn’t feel like I was in trouble or letting the group down.

I have contemplated killing myself, several times. I’ve lain on the garage floor many nights and wondered how to bring my pain to an end. But I knew I could never go through with it.

That’s why I have to get away.

Drenched in nervous sweat, I turn away to make my way up the long driveway. Each step I take feels awkward and surreal. Like it’s not even me. Like I’m not in my body. I cower, stopping to listen again. There is only a loud silence, except for my pounding heart.

I keep moving. I’m worried about the time. How long has it been? I keep going, quickening my pace. When I finally feel I’m out of earshot … I run.

I run like I’ve never run before, not even on the football field.

I bolt down the mountain. Winding through the trees. Avoiding the roads. Avoiding any chance of being seen. Did someone see me? Fear seizes my psyche. I was so careful.

I run harder. I can’t see more than inches in front of me. Random branches thrash at my face, stinging my skin. But I won’t stop. My lungs scream for a reprieve. I’m becoming light-headed.

Overwhelmed with fear, I think, maybe I’m not meant to escape? Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe they really are my friends? Maybe they are just trying to help me?

Am I just running from myself?

I feel them getting closer. I pray with every fiber in my being that this time … this time … I will be free.

Are they behind me? I don’t know what’s real anymore. I must find out. I dredge up the courage to look back.

All I can see is total darkness.

Nothing feels real. My mind spins.

The only tangible thought I can muster is, “How the hell did I get here?”

My Escape From a Cult