Rebecca: A Shadow of Ms Mia Zanette

“See through their eyes. Write through their mouth.”

Rebecca Winstead

Age 28

DOB Nov 12, 1943

Location Utah and Philadelphia

Religion Mormon (polygamist)

Marital Status Single

Occupation Columnist at a small paper

Notes Suffers from debilitating agoraphobia trapping with her past.

Family Mother; bore two children in marriage (Rebecca and Remy) comes from a long line of Mormons. 28 at the time of escaping household due to abuse. Forced to marry young, she fell into a routine of accepting the violence. Intimidated by the addition of three new wives, she felt obligated to bear a child. Revecca, as she was female, was her very one. Having her helped relieve the pressure of getting pregnant again to bear a son. When Remy was born, she was rewarded with a better space to raise Remy in.

Rebecca helped raise Remy from infancy. As she got older and began to piece together the violence in the household, she begs her mother to stick up for herself. She refused on the premise of getting them kicked out — or worse. Also, they’d have to leave Remy behind. He would never give up a son. So they both remained silent while demising an escape. It became clearer by the day Remy was not turning out to be as willing and able to do some of the more masculine chores and was punished by the father.

the farm and helped tend the land. The boys would all take care of the crops and the girls would cook and clean. Most of the work done, of course, by my mother even during both her pregnancies — that is, until she learned she was having a boy. I remember father moved us to the fanciest guest house when Remy was born. He was a little prince. We just adored him. But as we raised him, it was plain to see he was nothing like the other boys. He didn’t like the work and couldn’t toughen up. I used to hear him pray to the Lord to make him normal. If only I had told him…

So we kept him close to us and watched him stuggle to fit in. We kept telling father to give him time. The other children were so cruel, to both of us. I think it was cruelty that soiled us, ultimately. Now I may never know.

him and into mother’s room. She was kneeling afgainst a wall in the corner motionless. At first, I thought she might be dead, too. But when I place a hand on her shoulder, she shuddered and faced me. Her face looked different, her features unidentifiable. Huge bruises rounded her eye sockets and blood trickled down the sides of her nose like a steam of tears. Her eyes were wide and red. Not changing her expression of almost soul-less yearning, she reached out for me. Her hands met my face, my shoulders and hands. Then she pulled me in tight to her and began to weep. We stayed like that, both clinging onto each other for a long moment. It was well past midnight when she calmed down enough to speak.

She told me to grab my things quickly and I did so without question. We were gone before morning — by foot at first. Then by cab, once we reached the town. She had $50 to get us as far away as possible. We ended up a few states over.

Mother

made me want to vomit — father looking resolutely venomous and Remy looking bewildered and terrified. If only I had thrown myself out of the truck and protected him. But I didn’t know what was to come.

I noticed father was carrying something: a gun. My blood turned to ice. Hot tears stung the backs of my eyes. My mind raced as I begged God, myself, anyone for a sign. I didn’t know what to do. I sat, frozen, in awe as it happened. It was so quick. I knew a second before the gun shot rang across the clearing that he was gone. My little brother dead and alone. My eyes were fixed on his body — limp and lifeless, his face still brightly coloured with makeup forever looking out unknowing of his crime.

I felt everything and nothing all at once. I wanted to scream or cry, but my soul had left my body and stayed hovering over Remy.

this. Just the strang quiet of my room and the shadows of a past I’ll never forget.

Grey Papers: Rendezvous are exposé interviews focusing on the artists and collaborators who make the gears turn at Journey Lab. Visit us at journeylab.org.

This article is a supplement to Ms Mia Zanette’s Rendezvous which can be found (here.)