I have forgotten what it means to feel the touch of another person that isn't intent on hurting me. She is so warm with life. She curled up in the space in front of my belly and she buried her little head in my shoulder. Her hair is so long for a child so young but it's hopelessly tangled, as if it's never been brushed. She is so thin and fragile. Her limbs feel like the bones of a bird. I wonder if she's ever seen the sunlight or anything beyond this prison.
Apparently I was meant to be the caretaker of Annabelle's child, at least for now. When Travis brought my breakfast (bagel and banana, so no Master today), there was another tray with oatmeal and a sippy cup of milk. Even after a month, it still felt strange seeing such ordinary things sitting on that plain desk, surrounded by concrete and darkness.
“What's her name?” I asked as Travis set the food down.
The little girl raised her arms and Travis picked her up, the child snuggling into his chest. It was profoundly strange, to the point of being disturbing, to see the girl so obviously trusting of one of our captors. Travis held her silently for a moment before handing her back to me. “I'm not sure she has one. Annabelle's grip on sanity has been tenuous ever since she came here. I'm not sure she even recognized that the child was present most of the time.”
A random wave of weakness washed over me and I sat down on my cot, still cradling the little girl in my arms. “Do you blame her?”
For a moment I thought he wouldn't reply. Finally he shook his head. “No.”
What is your role in all of this? Are you a prisoner too? “What is going to happen to Annabelle?”
Travis's demeanor changed and he turned to leave. “You don't want to know.”
As the door clicked closed behind him, I thought that I wanted nothing more at the moment but to know what was going to happen...to Annabelle, to Jenny, to me.
I set the little girl on the chair and pulled her tray in front of her. She just looked at me, eyes wide and lips trembling.
“Hey, don't cry! What's the matter?”
“Mama?”
All of a sudden my own eyes began to fill with tears. I tried to strangle the sobs erupting from my chest but one managed to escape as I gathered the toddler into my arms and held her to my chest, cradling her fragile body against mine. “I don't know, baby girl. I don't know where your mama is.”
Day 35:
I need to think of a name for this little girl if I really am to keep her...
Travis brought a little box of toys that he says were kept in Annabelle's room. They all look like they've been through several generations of use. Faded blocks, a teddy bear with all of his fur missing in places, a threadbare baseball.
He loves this little girl. That much is obvious. He is still a mystery I can't figure out. I don't trust him. I don't like him. I want to hate him, but it's hard. He never does anything worth hating. Besides not letting me out, that is. Someday I will find out his role in all of this.
Jenny's baby is a month old now. It seems like years ago that I held her hand through that night. I haven't seen her, but I hear them. Hannah and her endless crying. At least she's still alive. I just don't know for how long.
God, please keep us all alive. Just for a little while longer, until someone finds us or I can figure out a way to escape.
Day 36:
I named the little girl Esther, after Mama. Because she's quiet, but she's so strong. She hardly ever cries. She's started eating at least, though she still asks for her mama a lot. I have never seen a little girl so quiet. She hardly even plays, just wants to sit snuggled into my side or my belly. She likes when I call her Essie. So I guess that's what I'll call her.
This morning Essie was looking up at the window. In the early morning a few thin rays of sunlight sneak in and you can watch the dust motes dance in light. Essie pointed at the window, and looked at me expectantly. “Outside,” she said. “Up. Look outside.”
I guess when the silent child asks for something, you don't say no. I pulled the chair over and lifted her up. All you can see is the bush, a bit of landscaping rock and the sky, but it made her happy and she smiled for the first time since I've had her.
I noticed something while we were up there. The window is small, but if it weren't for the glass I know I could climb through. I tapped the glass and I doubt I could break it, but that gummy looking stuff around the edge is sorta old. A bit of it crumbled in my fingers when I touched it.
It's not much. Even if I could get out, I have no idea how to get home, or how I would get there.
But it's a chance.
So, even though it felt stupid, I used the spoon from Essie's breakfast to scrape bits of the plaster away from the glass. It was incredibly slow. I honestly wasn't sure if I was making any progress. But I kept trying, with my ears straining for the sound of the door at the end of the hall letting me know that someone was coming.
The sickness continued to grow. Even the foods I had previously loved now returned with a vengeance anytime I tried to eat. After a couple of days of vomiting up even the water I managed to choke down, I was too weak to do anything but lie on my cot and watch Essie play listlessly with her faded toys.
When Travis realized that I wasn't eating, he brought a pill that he pressed into my hand, along with a cold glass of what smelled like ginger ale.
“Come on, sit up.” He helped me into a sitting position. He sat in the folding desk chair, elbows propped on his knees. “This will help the sickness.”
I sipped the soda gingerly, closing my eyes in relief as it hit my stomach and stayed there. “What is it?”
“It's commonly given to pregnant women to help with morning sickness.”
“Who says I'm pregnant?”
Travis looked surprised. “You mean you never asked Jenny for the results of the test?”
“No. I don't want to know.”
Travis shook his head. “I'm pretty sure you already know. And I'm not leaving here until you swallow that pill, so you might as well do it.”
I sighed and tossed the pill in my mouth. “If it will even stay down long enough to work.”
“Butterfly, it will be okay. Just take the medicine.”
I swallowed the pill with a swig of the ginger ale, praying it would stay put. It didn't immediately come back up, though I was keeping my eyes open for the quickest route to the bathroom.
“Happy now?”
“About this, anyway. Does the ginger ale help?”
I shrugged.
“Well, you need to drink something before you become too dehydrated. If you do, I will have to give you IV fluids.”
“You can do that?”
Travis gave me a look I didn't quite understand. “Not everything I told you about my life was a lie.”
“That's comforting,” I said sarcastically, taking another swig of the ginger ale before lying back on my cot, an arm thrown over my eyes to block out the glare of the light bulb.
“Master won't be happy with me if I let you lose his child. Whether you want to admit to your pregnancy or not, doesn't change the fact that it exists. And whether he cares or not, I don't intend to let you die either.” The chair scraped back and I was left alone in my cell as the door clanked closed.
Chapter 10: Big changes
Day 43: They brought a new girl today.
I guess Annabelle really is gone.
Essie won't move from my side. She just sits there clinging to me, trembling.
I'm not feeling much better. The new girl is screaming, and pounding on the door. She sounds young. They put her in Annabelle's cell.
She sounds angry. That's probably a good thing. Maybe it means she has the will to survive. She will be hard to tame. I just hope it doesn't work against her.
Day 44: When I woke up this morning, the light coming through my window looked weird. Apparently it snowed last night. All I can see through the glass is white.
Today while the new girl yells and rattles the bars on her door, I have been working on the plaster on
my window. Essie cries if I she's not touching me so I've got her tied to my back in a weird sort of sling I made from my blanket.
I hope the new girl settles down soon. She's got to be exhausted. I'm not even sure she'd hear me if I tried to talk to her right now. She's making Hannah cry. It's usually so quiet down here. I'm not used to all this noise.
Reading that last paragraph I wonder if I really have gone crazy. I guess there's a point at which you've felt enough fear for a lifetime and you can't really feel it anymore.
I've got one corner of the glass free from the plaster. Just three more...and all the edges. At this rate, by the time I get the glass free, I'll be too big to fit through the window. Not that it matters anyway. Winter is coming. No shoes, no coat...I wouldn't survive half a day out there if snow is at all common here. I'm guessing it is, considering it's only somewhere around the end of October by my calculations.
But now I have a new reason to stay alive. For the next few months, anyway.
Yeah that's right. I've accepted what's getting really hard to ignore.
Day 45: New girl's name is Sophie. She finally calmed down long enough for me and Jenny to talk to her. I want to warn her what's coming...I got toast and bologna for breakfast today so I know Master's coming. But I think Jenny was right about not telling me what was going to happen before it did. It would have made things that much worse, to have that fear and apprehension for hours or days before anything actually happened.
I can't believe I'm not telling a girl she's going to be raped. At least I was able to tell her that she's not going to be killed...as long as she cooperates. At least not right away.
One more day over. A few more particles of plaster gone. I'm still alive. Essie is still alive. Jenny and Hannah are still alive.
Thank you, God, for one more day. One day closer to freedom.
At least that's what I keep saying over and over, because the thoughts that I really want to think aren't nearly so hopeful.
Day 47: Today I tended to Sophie's wounds. I bandaged the cut on her cheek, I put salve on her bruises. I told her how to apply it to the areas too private for me to touch.
She's probably the prettiest of us all. Her hair is fiery red and her green eyes are filled with an anger that never subsides. She says Master will pay for what he did. She has that hard edge of someone who has seen trials, someone who long ago learned to ignore fear. I hope it doesn't cost her life. Maybe it's the sort of attitude that will get us out of here.
I feel this strange sort of regret. My life has already been ruined. I will never be the same, even if I get out of here alive. Sophie still has a chance to be normal. She still has a chance to recover. Jenny and I may live, but we will never go back to what we were.
Day 50: I wish I had someone to explain the Bible to me. I don't understand so much of it. Why would God let things like this happen to us? I know what it says, that we all have sinned and fallen short of His glory. But surely the little things don't really make us worthy of hell?? I can't imagine that a man like the Master is headed anyplace other than one of fire and brimstone. But me? I've always been a good person.
I guess that's not quite true. I know I've definitely done things wrong. But does talking back to my parents really make me deserve the same fate as a man who captures and beats girls? Who takes their children away?
I don't understand. I want to. I want to understand Jenny's peace and I want to have it too.
Day 52: If I could get to that man, I would strangle him. That evil, twisted, wicked...that man described by words I can't make myself write.
She just had a BABY! Why would he do that?
I want to kill him. He deserves nothing but the deepest circles of hell.
God, why?
Day 56: I think Travis likes me. I know how stupid and crazy that sounds, considering the circumstances. But maybe if I keep him talking enough, I'll learn something useful.
I've got one of the short sides of the window free.
I'm starting to see my belly grow. Not much, but it's definitely there. I probably wouldn't even notice if I hadn't already lost so much weight.
Essie called me “mama” today. It about broke my heart. Should I have corrected her or not? Maybe I'm the only mama she has left.
I was sitting cross-legged on my cot, the tiny swell of my belly cradled in my hands. Essie was stacking her blocks on top of each other as I read the crinkled pages of the old Bible.
Travis came in to bring my lunch. After setting the tray down he sat in the chair and crossed his legs, regarding me solemnly.
I looked up and raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“A place has been found.”
“What are you talking about?”
“For Jenny's baby. A home has been found.”
I couldn't even process what Travis was saying. “I don't understand.”
Travis leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees. “What did you think we did with the babies?”
“You take them away from their mothers. Isn't that enough?”
Travis laughed and shook his head. “We don't just take babies away for no reason. They go to new families, families who will love them.”
Some feeling I couldn't quite identify was coiling in my belly, a spike of icy cold foreboding. “What are you talking about? Jenny loves her baby.”
Travis shook his head. “Jenny and Annabelle and Sophie have never known love. They are incapable of loving. They have all lived in many different homes, run by those who knew them only as temporary children and never part of the family.”
“What? You mean foster homes?” At his nod, the coil tightened. “Just because they were in the foster system doesn't mean they are incapable of love. That's stupid.”
Travis's face darkened. “You don't know what you're talking about.”
“So what, they don't deserve to keep their babies because they were foster kids? What kind of crazy talk is that?”
“Master puts the children in homes that are able to provide everything they need. Not broken mothers from broken homes.”
“If they're broken, it's because he broke them!”
“A car that doesn't run is no more broken if two parts are faulty than if only one.”
Surely I wasn't hearing this. With a sort of sick horror, all of my hopes about Travis vanished. He wasn't a prisoner. He supported the atrocities occurring here.
Perhaps mistaking my silence for interest, Travis kept talking. “Whole babies are easier to love than broken ones. This is why Annabelle's daughter has not been bought. But a family has come forward that feels they can provide a good home for little Hannah.”
None of this made any sense. What sort of twisted logic was all of this?
“All of these girls would have been on the streets if it weren't for the Master. He gave them a home, and everything they need to survive.”
“Travis, this isn't living! This isn't a home! It's a prison!”
Travis shook his head sadly. “You don't understand.”
“Of course I don't! This is madness!”
With an attitude of long-suffering sadness, Travis rose from his chair and turned to leave. “You will understand one day.”
“I seriously doubt that,” I spat to his retreating back.
Only once he had left did the thought occur to me: But what about me? I was never a foster child. My family was whole.
Day 58: I don't understand how someone can be so deluded as to think that kidnapping, raping, and stealing babies is right! Travis seems so kind. But he's obviously just as twisted and evil as the Master. I don't understand how someone who appears so nice and normal can be so sick and twisted inside. I think this is more scary than anything else that has happened here.
They took Hannah. Hannah! That sweet, beautiful little girl is gone. Jenny won't stop wailing. I'm not even scared anymore. There's no room in my heart for anything but anger.
“Jenny?” I closed the door behind me, straining to see in the darkne
ss. The light was off and it looked like she had stuffed a blanket into her window. “Jenny, where are you?”
I pulled the light bulb chain and the bulb flickered on, swinging erratically above my head. Jenny lay on her cot, wrapped in her blankets, staring unseeing at the opposite wall.
I knelt in front of her, blocking her view. Her eyes focused on me, but she didn't speak. I reached out and stroked her greasy hair back from her face.
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