Quiet Mountain Essays

Copyright©2004

Living in Fear
by
Sarah R. Sturgill

There’s this scary guy that haunts the trailer park where I live.  Actually, he’s the creepy son-in
-law of the drug addict who lives in front of me.  He’s bald, menacing, muscular, and it seems as
though he’s always looking at me in an evil way.  I’ve been unfortunate enough to catch sight of
him one too many times, as I peek out the blinds during my constant neighborhood watch.  I
admit to being nosy, but it really creeps me out when I look through the small slit between the
plastic to find him staring back at me, from not twenty feet away, as though he knows what I‘m
up to.  I imagine in horror what it would be like to find him staring through the diamond window
of my thin aluminum front door.  I really need to get a better lock, and maybe some curtains.  But
then I think that what I really need to do is move us out of this place.

Thanks to creepy guy, today I saw probably the worst scene I’ve witnessed in the past three years
of living here.  He violently assaulted his wife in plain view of everyone.  I was shocked, horrified,
and although I wanted to do something, I was afraid that he wouldn’t think twice about coming
over and assaulting me.  I could only look on from my front door.  My husband, poor
incompetent soul that he is, went for the phone to call the police only to find the phone line
unhooked.  His first instinct was to come tell me it was unhooked, as if he were too helpless to fix it
himself.  By the time I got it working, the dispute was over and creepy guy had raced off in an old
gray car, barely missing hitting my car.  

I’ve witnessed drunken fights, break-ins, and car accidents since moving here, but the scene from
earlier today haunts me.  Basically, because I feel guilty for not doing something.  I’ve never seen
or experienced domestic violence in my own home, and this assault happening in my own front
yard was too close for comfort.  How can I save my two daughters from these atrocities? Growing
up in this “community” of shady characters can’t be healthy for them.  I know living here hasn’t
helped my nerves, or my nails.

My two year old daughter has become infatuated with creepy guy’s five year old son.  She calls
him her boyfriend and refuses to acknowledge him by his real name.  Of course, my husband
and I have that habit too, but we call him demon child, not boyfriend.  In the past three years,
when least expected and unwelcome, he has been found lurking in the small swampy patch we
call our yard.  Thanks to him, we have been through three wading pools, one bubble mower,
countless bags of sand, several sand toys, and numerous other miscellaneous items that have been
broken or have mysteriously disappeared.  He keeps me on guard.  

Recently, I found him evilly opening the porch gate to let my one year old daughter fall down the
steps.  No doubt those were his intentions, as I had, but moments before, told him that her safety
was the reason I kept it latched.  The little smirk, and come-hither-little-child movements I saw
him make, didn’t dampen my suspicions, either.  I pity him, though, so maybe that’s why I put
up with his destructive ways.  That and my fear of his father.  I can only hope that my daughter’s
first choice in a boyfriend isn’t a sign of what’s to come later on.  I also pray that this little boy
grows up to be a decent caring man and not at all like his father.  Although his frequent tantrums,
and threats to hit my daughter are not good signs that he will.  

I suppose, as parents, all we can do for our children is offer guidance and hope that they don’t
make the same mistakes that we did.  Living in this crowded, infested can has helped me come to
that conclusion.  I strive to be a good role model, and teach patience, understanding, and other
virtues, but mostly I want to teach my daughters courage.  Courage so that they will not be like
me and be silent, but rather speak up, cause a scene, and then run like hell from the creepy guy.

Contributor's Notes...

Sarah Sturgill resides in West Virginia with her husband, Chris Sartin, and two daughters, Caitlin and Chloe.  
She graduated from Alice Lloyd College in 2001 with a degree in English.  This is her first publishing credit.  In
her spare time, Sarah enjoys writing about the “joys” of trailer park living and parenting.

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