That was the message on the note she passed me, under the check when she paid for her pest control treatment.
I pulled into the driveway of a new customer, a one time treatment for fleas. As I got out of my truck, I heard a man yelling at the top of his voice, calling someone a bitch, a whore, white trash, scum; and who knows what else. As I got to the door, I waited for the yelling to cease. I then heard what sounded like a slap. All kinds of thoughts were running through my mind at this point; like opening the door unannounced and finding out who this man was beating on. I waited another minute that seemed like 10. It was quiet again. Normally I would have left but hearing the slap of a hand against skin made me stay.
I rang the doorbell of a run-down 20+ year old trailer. A man (if you want to call him that) answered the door with sweat across his brow, slightly out of breath giving me a blank look. I know in his mind he was wondering how much I had heard. I acted as if I had heard nothing. I explained who I was and he opened the door for me to enter. I surveyed the living room and the open kitchen looking for any signs of what had taken place. Nothing, no sign of anyone. The man, I will call him "Dick", stated he needed just a couple minutes to gather a few things together before he and his family left the house. "Ok, I will start treating from this end of the house (pointing down the hall) and work my way out. Dick agreed and he then exited to the opposite end of the mobile home.
As I entered the first bedroom, A lady (will call her Gwen) was sitting on the bed, softly sobbing and wiping her face. The blood began to boil in my veins; I knew then who this mother fucker of a man had been yelling at and who he had hit. "Good morning, I am here to do the flea treatment, do you need a few minutes before I start in this room?", I asked. Gwen didn't look up nor make eye contact, "No, you can start in here, I just need to get my shoes on and get my baby", she answered while staring directly at the floor. I walked closer to Gwen, she briefly glanced up at me with a shameful look on her face. My heart sank. There was a welt the size of a hand print on the left side of her face. I had never been in a situation quite like this before. "Are you are okay? Are you hurt?", I whispered. With a trembling voice she was only able to muster the words, "I'm okay, I'm okay". "Do you need help?", I asked. Gwen gave me a blank look, her bottom lip quivering, "I have no family, I have no friends, I have no place to go".
I heard footsteps coming down the hall. "I will see what I can do to help", trying my best to comfort her and let her know that someone was on her side. Dick entered the room just as I began spraying and quickly left as Gwen exited also. "What the hell can I do? How can I help help her?", I thought to myself. A dozen different ideas raced through my mind as I was treating the house.
After the treatment, I wrote the ticket out for the service and handed it to Gwen, along with my business card that listed my office and cell number. "Here is my card, if you do not see a significant drop in the flea activity within 24 hours, please call me. Preferably my cell number; I have it with me 24/7 and it's the best way to contact me.", I stated; while trying to send her a message telepathically as I looked at her. Gwen handed me a check. When I took the check from her, I felt something on the underside. Without looking at the amount, I quickly put the check in my pocket. Her green eyes were saying, "help me" as I exited the home.
I pulled off the road once I got a few miles a way. I dug in my pocket and pulled out the check and the accompanying note. It said, "Can you help me, please? Call me", and listed a phone number. I couldn't turn a blind eye to a lady that was being abused and had 2 small children. "Was I crossing the line concerning my job? Was I expected to help? ", I thought. My friend Katherine gave me the reassurance. I sent a text to Katherine, "help her" was her reply. At this point I didn't care if I got fired if the company I worked for, found out after the fact.
This afternoon I found a "safe house" for Gwen and her 2 children to get refuge. Luckily, I was able to contact Gwen without Dick finding out. She must have thanked me 100 times over her crackling voice. My eyes watered. The "great escape" comes tomorrow when I try to get her out of the house and get her and her 2 daughters to a safe haven.Pretty good, right? He got a lot of great comments from both Rising Blogger readers and his own. Even the woman, named Gwen, that he helped joined in the comments, Gwen in bold:
You deserve much more than just a blog award. What you did for me went beyond what the normal human being would have done. Not only did you help me get out of that hellhole, you probably saved my life. Finding a place for my girls and I to stay was going the extra mile. Because of you I now have a good job and a new life. My girls are happy now. They laugh, they smile all the time. My daughter Caitlin always says her prayers every night. For over the past week she has ended her prayers with "and thank you God for sending Mr. Bryan to help us." You are truly an answered prayer, a hero and an angel. God Bless you, Bryan.I hope you have a wonderful father's day. Jen and us will be stopping by tomorrow with a little surprise.
Love,Caitlin, Jessica, and Gwen.
But then things got very weird. Another person commented and it was the first comment that did not praise Bryan’s rescue of this woman, Gwen. Someone called Marquis de Sade had left a comment on the post. He lifts lines from Bryan's post so we will do Marquis in bold:
Well Bryan, let's hope I'm not doing you an injustice. You see, I used to work as a professional in a Child and Family Centre at University College London, and your story just doesn't ring true.Here are excerps from your story with my comments in [bold].
The man, I will call him "Dick", stated he needed just a couple minutes to gather a few things together before he and his family left the house.
You'd think you would have waited just a couple of minutes before starting, but no ..."Ok, I will start treating from this end of the house (pointing down the hall) and work my way out." Dick agreed and he then exited to the opposite end of the mobile home. As I entered the first bedroom, A lady (will call her Gwen) was sitting on the bed, softly sobbing and wiping her face.
You say where you will start, and he heads in the opposite direction! How convenient. Away from, and leaving you alone with the lady he has just abused. Even though abusers are control freaks and would not dream of doing any such thing.Dick entered the room just as I began spraying and quickly left as Gwen exited also.
So Dick and Gwen are both in the room when you start spraying. She has not even had time to collect her baby. Are you normally that quick? No protective clothing to put on? No respirator? No clearing your clients off site? Isn't that just a tad unusual? After the treatment, I wrote the ticket out for the service and handed it to Gwen, along with my business card that listed my office and cell number.Gwen handed me a check. When I took the check from her, I felt something on the underside.
So this abused lady is the one to hand you the check? That's really odd. Once again it's in the nature of abusers to handle money, not their bullied partners. So either she has a check account (unlikely) or he has written her the cheque to give to you (unlikely). It said, "Can you help me, please? Call me", and listed a phone number.
Another strange fact. The lady already has your number, so she can call *you* when she feels it is safe to do so (24/7 in fact). However, she gives you a number to call *her*. And risk being caught handing you the note. And risk your call coming in when Dick is around. He may even intercept the call. And it's not going to be someone else's number because she just said she has no one else. My friend Katherine gave me the reassurance. I sent a text to Katherine ...
Must have been a long text. This afternoon I found a "safe house" for Gwen and her 2 children to get refuge.
Something she could not do? Luckily, I was able to contact Gwen without Dick finding out. Presumably using the "call me" number she gave you. Well, it was going to be risky wasn't it, as I have already pointed out.And now a nice message from Gwen. She knows you're a blogger then? And how lucky that she used the name Gwen too. And she says "Because of you I now have a good job and a new life". That's quick work. Eleven days? To move, settle, get the job, and post.And what about Dick? Hope he doesn't read blogs 'cos I guess he has your phone number and work adress too ...
I’ve had people leave very critical comments on my posts. I have not deleted one that I can remember. In fact, I enjoy the back and forth. I am not always right, sometimes it seems like I am NEVER right! But Bryan did not respond to the comment. He deleted it. I am not passing judgment here. In fact, I put a poll on my sidebar and would appreciate your opinion. I would love to believe him.
So that led to yesterday’s post. Could I just make up a story and would people believe it? But I chickened out. Or better put I respect you, my readers and friends too much. So I ended that post with the truth. Did I get anyone? I don’t know. But it was an interesting idea. Also as an aside, I don’t much care about the truth. He won The Rising Blogger Post of the Day for his post. There was never a rule that the post had to be 100% true. Bryan wrote a great post about an interesting story. If he made it up, so what? We didn’t award him the Congressional Medal of Honor, now did we?
Please vote in our poll and we'd love your thoughts. Thanks for coming by today. Have a great Hump Day! Happy birthday to Galloping Gary (a WTIT DJ founder) and Paul McCartney. A special thanks to Mimi Lenox at Mimi Writes for assisting with this post. Peace!