Free She Survived by M. William Phelps Page B

the guy before. The opportunity arose. What the hell, why not?
    “It was not in my nature to be rude to people,” Melissa recalled. “Anyone would tell you, I was very much a people person.”
    Looking back on that day and the questions that Saxton asked sent “chills down my spine,” Melissa said when she later thought about it. “And it still pisses me off to no end that they couldn’t charge him with attempted murder because of the specific questions he asked.”
    “Your boyfriend/husband, he’s not living there anymore?” Saxton asked Melissa casually on that day, according to her memory of the conversation.
    Melissa said no.
    “Do you have anyone else? Any pets to keep you company?”
    Melissa thought for a brief moment that the questions seemed a bit odd, but she didn’t feel threatened. “No,” she answered.
    “You must keep a gun for protection, since you’re living alone?”
    “Nope,” Melissa answered.

    The bastard! He wanted to know if he was going to get shot if he broke in. He was stalking me. He was doing his homework. To him, I was a very easy target. Or so he thought. How could I have not picked up on that? I thought the questions were kind of odd, but at the same time I guess I didn’t think too much about it. . . .

    Melissa said that if she had a gun in the house, she would have wound up dead: “I am certain he would have used it on me.”

    So, do I beat myself up for giving him the so-called keys to my life? Me, I’m much smarter than that. It was something I struggled with. It was something that that hack of a psychologist they sent me to wouldn’t deal with—another reason why I could not go back to her. I needed things like this dealt with. I didn’t need to help her pass her final psych exam so she could get her degree. I know the Victim’s Assistance fund only allowed $10,000 at the time, and most of that was eaten by my surgeries, but they could have sprung for a more experienced therapist.

CHAPTER 27
    MOMENTS OF GREAT DESPAIR
    Becky Buttram felt a genuine connection, not to mention a tremendous amount of compassion for Melissa Schickel. She knew Melissa had been through hell and, in the end, Scott Saxton was probably not going to get what he deserved, only because the law in these types of crimes protected the perpetrator more than the victim. Still, in those days after Saxton’s arrest, Buttram kept in touch with Melissa, calling her every week, letting her know she was there for her if she ever needed anyone for conversation and talking. Throughout her career Buttram had seen women deal with assaults in various ways. Not all had the will, drive, and wherewithal that Melissa had displayed. Buttram felt Melissa would be okay. Time would heal her wounds.
    “I kept in constant contact with her,” she remembered. “Melissa is a very practical young lady. I don’t think she was coddled as a child. Everything has been very practical for her. Look at what takes place during the incident. She remains as calm as she could. She makes this comment to Saxton, ‘Excuse me, I’m bleeding very badly.’ I interpreted it to mean, ‘Excuse me, I’m dying here. Stop killing me!’ Which just floored me when she told us that. She explained that she said it because at this point she felt she didn’t have anything to lose.”
    Buttram believed Melissa had “moments of great despair, I’m sure, but she’s always been able to pull herself up by the boot straps and go on. It’s just the way, I think, she was brought up.”
     
     
    Melissa looks back at what happened to her in different ways. She doesn’t see it as so black-and-white. She understands, though, that most people want some sort of foundational power source as an explanation for how she was able to get through it all and remain somewhat sane and even find some humor in certain aspects of her crime and survival.
    “Was it my spirituality?” she asked rhetorically. “Well, I would love to be able to say yes. I mean, I