REBECCA VILLA'S STORY

I've lived in the city of Albuquerque for a little more than four years. When my mother moved my younger sister and I from California to New Mexico, I was 16 and my sister Anita was 14. My mother, who is originally from Albuquerque, had to separate from my father because of his drinking and the severe abuse he inflicted upon his family. My father physically and verbally abused my mother in what seemed to be a daily occurrence. After years of this treatment, my mother had had enough and decided one day that the only salvation for her and her two daughters was to pack up her things and to return to her parents' home in Albuquerque. My mother saved her money until she had the amount necessary for the trip.

I remember one morning, when my father had left for work, she gathered four suitcases and some cardboard boxes she had stored in our backyard, placed all our belongings inside, and bound up the boxes with tape and string. At 12:30 that afternoon a friend of hers came by and we all jumped into her car. After a short and sad drive to the train station, we got out, and boarded Amtrak to our new home: New Mexico!

It didn't take long to settle into Albuquerque and we adjusted eagerly to the clear blue skies and vistas of the surrounding Sandia Mountains. What a change from the big city of Los Angeles! Although we missed our school friends, we knew things would be better for us away from my father. My father did track us down eventually, and called to speak with my mother. We lived with my grandparents, my mother's parents.

Although my father knew where we were, he did not make any attempt to visit us. Whenever he did call on the phone, both my sister and I would talk with him. We always hung up with tears in our eyes. Somehow I knew I would never see him again.

Eight months had passed since we left California, and one Tuesday morning we received a phone call from a friend of my father, who informed my mother that my father had been killed in a work-related accident. Although we were sad to hear this news, my father had been prepared for such a possibility. He had life insurance. My mother received a sizable check from an insurance company. She used this to purchase a modest home on the west side of the city. My sister, Anita, and I began attending the same school and soon developed friendships with classmates.

One Saturday morning, I was preoccupied reading a teen magazine on our front porch when I heard someone approaching. It was my sister and two of her girlfriends. I recognized one of the girls, Gloria, who was carrying a long flat box. As they neared, Gloria spoke. "Hey Becky, why don't you come to the backyard with us? Look what we have." I answered, "What's in there?" She answered, "It's a fortune-telling Ouija Board." I said I did not know what a Ouija Board was, and that I was busy reading. Then Gloria said, "Oh well, you're going to miss out. We're going to contact some spirits with it and have lots of fun, so go ahead and read your dumb magazine."

I picked up my magazine once again and watched the girls as they walked to the backyard. After a few minutes, I decided to see what they were doing. I heard laughter coming from our garage and curiosity got the better of