Colleen Stan

This lack of knowledge may have been a good thing in one sense. If I had known the length of my entombment after returning from Riverside, I'm not sure I would have survived. Of course, I'm not sure even Master knew how long he was going to keep me in the box.

A few days passed then a few more. Then weeks passed followed by months. Months slowly turned into years. I would spend the next three years of my life (1981-1984) in the box sleeping, dreaming, and praying.

I have to assume my lengthy confinement in the box came about because Master was concerned he had given me too much freedom. Maybe he felt he was losing control of his slave. Too many neighbors had seen me, and questions about my status in the Hooker household were surely to arise. A fast thinking family member in Riverside may have copied down his vehicle tag number. What if the police knocked on his door on day looking for Colleen Stan? What if they searched the mobile home? Would anyone think to look under a waterbed for the girl in the box? Master wanted to keep me out of sight until the heat had passed.

The other reason for putting me into storage was Ma'am. I'm sure she wanted me out of her life, out of her children's lives, and out of her husband's life. Master was not ready to let his slave go. Cloistering was the only answer.

My daily routine soon became predictive as I was allowed out late in the evening after the girls had gone to bed. I emptied my bedpan, drank a large glass of water, and ate cold leftovers in the front bathroom. Sometimes the leftovers were true leftovers that had been out all day and the family didn't want.