My Stepdad Put A Camera In My Room And My Mom Called Me A Liar. I Ran To The “Creepy” Neighbor For Help, But No One Expected What Was Waiting For Us. Who Was The Real Monster All Along?
The Disinformation Campaign
The girls woke up when I came in.
“Are you staying?” the younger one whispered.
“Just tonight.”
“That’s what Dad said about us, but we’ve been here two whole days now.” She sounded happy about it. “Maybe you can stay two whole days too.”
I lay there in the dark, listening to their breathing, feeling safer than I had in months. But I knew Jeff wouldn’t give up. He’d come back with a plan, with lies, with ways to hurt Thomas and get me back.
Sure enough, the next morning brought new problems. Thomas woke me early, his face grim.
“Jeff’s been busy. Look.” He showed me his phone.
The neighborhood Facebook page was full of posts about Thomas luring me to his house. How I’d been seen climbing through his window at night. How he’d manipulated a troubled child who made up stories about her loving stepfather.
“They’re believing him,” I said, scrolling through comment after comment supporting Jeff.
“Some are, but look,” he pointed to a few dissenting voices. Mrs. Grant defending us. A few others saying they’d notice things too. “It’s not everyone.”
His daughters came downstairs, still in pajamas.
“Can we have pancakes?” the older one asked.
“In a minute, Alexander. First I need you both to understand something.” Thomas knelt down to their level. “People might say mean things about Daddy today, but you know the truth, right?”
They nodded solemnly.
“You save people,” the younger one said. “Like you saved us from Mommy.”
“That’s right. And sometimes when you try to save people, other people get angry.”
Enter Nathaniel
A car pulled up outside. Through the window, I saw a woman in professional clothes get out, followed by Mrs. Grant.
“That’s my daughter, Nathaniel,” Mrs. Grant said when Thomas let them in. “She drove 2 hours to get here.”
Nathaniel looked like a younger version of her mother, with the same determined set to her jaw. She took one look at me and her expression softened.
“I’m a mandated reporter,” she said. “Which means I have to file a report about what’s happened to you. But I can file it in my county, where Jeff doesn’t have connections.”
“They’ll just send me back,” I said.
“Not if we do this right. First, we need to get you to a hospital. Document everything. Then we file reports with multiple agencies. CPS, state police, anyone who will listen.”
“Jeff will say Thomas kidnapped me.”
“Then we’ll prove otherwise. Thomas, do you have security cameras?”
He nodded.
“They’ll show her coming here on her own. Injured. Seeking help.”
“Good. We’ll need that footage.” Nathaniel turned to me. “This won’t be easy. Jeff will fight back. He’ll try to discredit everyone helping you. Are you prepared for that?”
I thought about going back. About more nights with Jeff, about Mom choosing him over me again and again.
“I’m ready.”
The next few hours blurred together. The hospital, where a kind nurse took photos of every bruise and cut. The police station in the next county, where officers actually listened. Nathaniel filing report after report, making calls, refusing to let anyone dismiss us.
