365 MARKS ON THE WALL

Byn Always

Copyright ©2019 Byn Always

All rights reserved.

No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Under no circumstances may any part of this book be photocopied for resale.

This is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and co-incidental.

Cover Photography fromShutterstock.com

This book is dedicated to my husband, who is far more convinced of my talent and skill than I am. Damn. I just realized for the first time in our 25 years of marriage, I hope he’s right.

CHAPTER ONE

I’ve been locked in this basement for almost a year.

I have counted the days since I woke up that very first day here and have made a scratch right next to where the cuffs were bolted to the old stone wall.

Those first days, I just used the metal from the cuffs to make a mark in the old, crumbling paint. Later, I found a small nail, which was easier to handle. Every day since then, I’ve made a scratch on the wall.

I have had so many long hours, with nothing to do except think, that I’ve counted day in and day out. It’s almost a relief, in some ways, because counting and arranging 365 days is far more interesting than counting five days or even fifty. Maybe I’m losing my mind. Hell, maybe I lost it a long time ago. Living locked in a cellar might do that to even the sanest of people.

Today is day 364, and I am ready for anything. Anything at all. If the plan fails and I die, then at least I died trying.

Tomorrow, when I wake up, I will make one last mark on the wall. Then I’ll let the chips fall where they may. I don't even know if I can hope for the best. I can only hope for change. Anything has to be better than the life I've led this past year.

If I die, then I hope beyond anything else that someone will discover this place and know that I died. That they will find the words I’ve written for my family so that they know I went down fighting. That I am gone, but they don’t have to worry about me anymore.
If I succeed... No, if we succeed, then I hope to tell them myself. There is nothing I want more than to see my mom and feel her arms around me again. To let her know that she is the other reason I survived.

It’s time.

CHAPTER TWO

That first morning, I remember waking up feeling confused. The air felt so cold, and even though I was covered by heavy blankets, I could still feel the chill seeping into my bones. There was a fleeting thought that maybe my parents had forgotten to turn on the heat or something. My mom was always weird about not wanting to have the heat on any more than necessary, so it wasn’t terribly unusual that I’d wake up feeling chilly. Still, my mind felt heavy and sluggish.

I searched for the memories of last night, but I couldn’t even quite place what day of the week it was. I buried myself a little further under the blankets and let my breath warm the air around my face.

I couldn’t even remember going to bed last night. Not even a little bit. I wondered if I was getting sick or something, and I felt this sense of dread crawling up from my toes. It was as if my body was bringing my mind back little by little, letting me get used to the idea in a gradual way.

I had flickers of memories, catching me off guard like rain on a cloudless day.

I had been at the mall with my friends last night. We’d all left to go our separate ways just before the stores started shutting down.

There was the regular chaos of the foot traffic, all leaving at the same time. I couldn’t remember much else. My head was aching with the pain of trying to remember and, still, this feeling that something was horribly wrong wouldn’t stop prodding at me. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to bury myself further under the blankets, or if I wanted to get up and go downstairs to feel some normalcy. Maybe I could get mom to turn up the heat. Smiling to myself, I went to throw the blankets back.

That’s when I realized that my hands were cuffed together. There was a sudden, frantic need to get out from under the blankets without making a sound. I wasn’t even sure of what I was afraid of exactly, but, obviously, something was horribly wrong. I tested the length of the chain to find that I was chained to the wall, beside the bed, with fairly long chains. Long enough that I’d slept without realizing they were there.

More memories flickered from the night before. Someone grabbing me and shoving me into an open car door before the pictures went black again. What the hell had happened to me?

I pulled the blankets down and took in the room I was in. There were two small, rectangular windows above my head, letting in a bit of dim light. They were so dirty that the whole room looked as if it were bathed in some sort of photo effect filter. Like I was looking at a sepia-toned photo from one of those cheesy photo booths at the fair… I was in an old, cigarette-stained photo from some little old lady’s house. Everything was gray, and there was a damp, old, stale smell that filled my nostrils. It made the whole thing seem that much more surreal. I had no idea how I had ended up here.

I was on a mattress that had seen better days, the blankets looking like they were salvaged from a flea market dumpster. I was in some sort of old cellar. The dust was so thick I could smell it. The old shelves lining one wall were mostly empty, except for a few mason jars full of who knew what. There was some sort of partially closed off room or closet, a washer and dryer that looked like they may have been the first ones ever created, with a big pile of laundry beside them, and a big, heavy looking old door at the other end of the room. Little did I know, I would become intimately familiar with this room.

Somewhere in my mind, I thought this was just some sort of sick joke. Some kind of nightmare I would wake up from any minute now.  I didn’t realize at that point that this was my new home.

I sat on the bed, feeling like I’d been struck mute. A large part of me wanted to scream the house down. To find someone, anyone, who might rescue me. The part holding my mouth shut was the part filled with absolute terror at what awaited me beyond that door.

I was still wearing the clothes I’d had on the day before. I knew that it was unlikely that anyone had done much of anything to me while I was unconscious, but the fact was, something had happened. Someone had thrown me into a car and drugged me or something. They had brought me to this place, carried me in here, chained me up, and pulled blankets over me. I thought it was probably a sign that they didn’t intend to kill me, but I wasn’t so naive to think that this someone just wanted a new friend to spend time with. Everyone I knew had heard of stories like this one. When someone disappeared, nothing - and I do mean nothing - good was going to happen.

I just had to figure out how to get the upper hand so I could escape. I was smart, and I knew I had family and friends out there looking for me already.

Thinking of my family, even for just a second, nearly broke me right there. They would be terrified for me.

I had to get out of here. No one could possibly know where I was yet. Hell, I didn’t even know where I was, or who had taken me. It was time to stop being scared. I opened my mouth and screamed as loud as I could.

The screams echoed in my head, bounced off of the old stone walls, and fell back empty. With nothing to hear except the sounds of my own breathing, I waited, my heart racing, expecting the worst.

Instead, there was nothing. The moments stretched out until I felt like I would lose my mind. I screamed again and again until my voice was hoarse. My sense of bravado was fading fast. An unholy dread started creeping along my spine. What if someone just chained me up and left me here? What if no one found me? I felt tears welling up, and I could feel the edges of panic dancing around me.

“Pull yourself together, Lila,” I told myself, my voice was raw and quiet, but it helped me get myself centered again. It was time to focus. Screaming wasn’t going to get me out of here.

I started jerking and pulling against the chains. They were bolted firmly into the wall. Standing on the bed, I pulled against the chains with my full body weight, but they didn’t budge. My wrists were instantly raw from scraping against the metal of the handcuffs. I sat back down on the bed and tried not to completely panic.

I’d seen police shows where the criminals picked the lock with a hairpin or something. Surely it wasn’t too difficult if it only took a hairpin. I started digging around in the blankets along the side of the metal bed frame. Maybe I could find something that would work. My hands felt along the bottom of the bed as far as I could reach before the chains stopped me. There was still hope. Surely I could find something to use, I just had to keep searching. It seemed like as long as I was looking for a way out, I wasn’t helpless. There was still a chance that I could free myself before my kidnapper came back. I was young and full of life, and I wasn’t about to let someone just come and take that away from me. Not without a fight. Stretching myself out on the bed, I used my foot to feel along the underside of the bed. There was nothing. I growled with frustration and started feeling around with my foot, back in the direction I’d come from. There had to be something there that could help me.

I was on my third sweep when I felt it. Something loose on the floor. I could feel it through my thin sock. My foot reached out, straining my arms and my aching wrists against the cuffs as I stretched my leg under the bed as far as I could. My toes just caught hold when I heard it.

Someone was coming. The creak of old wooden steps, each one making its own distinct sound or groan. I froze for a heartbeat as I heard the heavy tread take another step, and then another. It was almost as if they paused between each step because they knew I was listening. The scrape of metal at the door on the other end of the room catapulted me into action. I jumped back on the bed and covered myself as best as I could. I sat back in the far corner of the bed, as though that would keep me safe. My eyes were on the door as the key rattled in the lock and the doorknob finally started to turn.

I thought I would scream or crawl out of my skin. This felt like something from a horror movie, and some small part of me was still holding out hope that this was a trick. A horrible, awful trick, but I still couldn’t wrap my brain around this being reality.

The door opened, and he stepped out of the darkness of the stairwell and into the dim light of the room.

CHAPTER THREE

I suppose I was expecting a monster. Some sort of giant, gruesome horror movie villain with a mask made of human flesh and clothes covered in blood. I wasn’t expecting this ‘old guy next door’ looking man. My body was pressed against the stone wall, and I could feel the cold leaching into my bones. I stared as the man came right up to the bed. He was carrying a plate of food, which he sat at the end of the bed, along with a water bottle. My eyes focused on my hands, wishing for freedom as if I could have willed him to just let me go with my thoughts. He just stood at the end of the bed, looking at me, not saying a word until I thought I would go crazy with the silence. I bit my lip to keep quiet. The last thing I wanted was to make him angry when I was chained up and unable to defend myself. Still, he just stood there, staring.

I ignored the rumbling of my stomach as the smell of the food finally reached me. I was not going to eat anything this man gave me. For all I knew, it could be poisoned. My hands clenched into fists as I sat, unmoving as a statue.

He pushed the plate of food closer to me. “Food,” was all he said, his voice deep and dark.

I ignored him, still staring at my hands, trying to keep my body from shuddering in revulsion. My body was on high alert. ‘Fight or flight’ I suppose, with a healthy dose of wishing I could do either.

Please don’t let him touch me, I thought to myself. Maybe I was praying, I don’t know. I just closed my eyes tight and kept repeating that over and over until I finally heard him moving around.

The bed sank down right by my feet, and I felt his hands on my wrists. I screamed without thinking and tried to jerk away, but his hands were like steel. Cold, icy steel. My eyes flew to his face, but he was just looking at my bloodied wrists. His touch felt impersonal, methodical even, as he felt around my wrists. Maybe to see if I’d broken anything? I’m not sure. I didn’t get any sense that he really cared, just that he didn’t want me to make a mess.

He stood up and reached for the keyring on his belt. He pulled me to the edge of the bed and unlocked my cuffs, leaving them sitting on the bed, his hand like a vise grip around my elbow. He lifted me from the bed as though I weighed no more than a feather and put me on my feet, his hand never loosening its grip for even a second. His innate strength terrified me more than anything else. At first glance, he’d just looked like some skinny, tall guy. A man with no strength to speak of, one whom I might have been able to fight off. I suppose that’s why they say you should never judge a book by its cover. This guy was far stronger than I had imagined, and it made me wonder what else I was going to discover about him. How had he gotten me to his car? The question bounced around in the gaping holes of my memory as I tried to remember the night before.

He dragged me to the other end of the room, and I saw that the little room I had thought was a closet was actually a bathroom of sorts. It looked like it hadn’t been used or cleaned well in forever, and my body rebelled as he tried to guide me inside. I cringed, feeling his body come up behind me until he was nearly touching me. That finally propelled me forward. He reached inside and turned on the water in the sink, grabbing my arm again and running water over the nearly shredded skin of my wrists. It was all I could do not to yank my hands away, but I had the feeling that was the absolute wrong thing to do. His grip on my arm was unyielding, and I knew I was no match for him. The barely restrained anger was rolling off of him in waves, and it left me feeling nearly paralyzed with fear. There was a war going on within me. I wanted to fight, to scream and rage against this man who had stolen me from my family and my life, but I was feeling terrified and weak, shaken to my core. He held my hands under the nearly scalding water and watched until I washed the blood off of my battered skin. He grabbed a threadbare towel off of the old washing machine, just outside the door, and dried off my arms.

I did everything I could to ignore him, only paying attention to the pain in my wrists as he roughly dried them off. He pushed me back into the bathroom and stood outside, not saying a word. I stood there for a moment, waiting until I realized that he was waiting for me to use the toilet. I wasn’t even sure how long it had been since the last time I’d went, but my body was letting me know that it needed to happen. I glanced out to see that the man wasn’t even looking my way, so I hurried up and finished my business, hoping that he’d leave me alone. I washed my hands as soon as I was done, and at the sound of the water, he turned and filled the doorway. I shuddered and felt his hand grip my arm again, and he led me back to the bed.

As my knees touched the edge of the bed, I realized he was going to cuff me again and my entire being rebelled. “Please don’t put the cuffs back on, please.” My wrists were still burning from all of the cuts and bruising caused by the cuffs. He pushed me onto the bed like I was nothing. I fell on my back and realized as I looked up at him that getting cuffs on wasn’t the worst of my problems. He was so much stronger than I was. He could do anything he wanted, and I wasn’t going to be able to get away. I started crying. No matter how hard I tried, the grief just spilled out of me. My life was not my own anymore. I was trapped whether I had cuffs or not, and this man held my life in his hands. “Please don’t do this,” I whispered. Thinking of all the talks I’d had with my friends, with my mom, about sex and being safe and not being alone with a boy you didn’t know very well. Here I was after being so careful for so long, and it was all for nothing. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see him looking at me, tears streaking down the side of my face as I waited, frozen in my fears.

I heard him moving around, and, the next thing I knew, I could hear the key turning in the lock. His footsteps slowly going up the stairs, one plodding step at a time. I held my breath and tried to count the steps so I would know… for next time. I knew that I had already missed some, but I thought I had counted ten steps total. I waited, tense and on edge, until I heard another door close at the top of the stairs. I thought maybe he was just tormenting me, or going to get something else to tie me up with, but he didn’t return. I lay on the bed, still as a corpse, until my stomach reminded me that I hadn’t eaten. I slowly sat up, grabbed the water bottle, and dragged the plate across the bed towards me.

There was a sandwich, what looked like canned mixed fruit, and some old looking corn. I picked up the half smushed white bread and my nose wrinkled when I saw the peanut butter and jelly oozing out the sides. I hadn’t even tasted white sandwich bread before. My mom had always bought the whole grain, crunchy, healthy foods. I choked down a sob at the thought of my mom, of my life before, and took a bite of the sandwich. I felt like I was marking a significant change. My ‘Before’ life was healthy foods, fresh, organic veggies and fruits from the Farmer’s Market, which my mom would bring home while I slept in on Saturday morning. My ‘After’ life was waking up chained to a bed, eating gross, stale canned food.

It seemed like such a stupid, trivial thing to be upset about, but it broke me in some way. I cried harder with every bite I took, telling myself I had to eat if I ever wanted to have the energy and the strength to escape. I tried to focus on escape. On getting myself free, but all I could think about was the difference between the stale, soggy bread in my hands, and my mom’s perfectly divine whole grain, practically crunchy bread. I sobbed harder until my tears felt like they were choking me. My body wracked with grief, with terror and hopelessness.

I threw the sandwich as far as I could, and I screamed through my tears. I picked up the plate and I threw it, screaming and crying, watching the plate smash into pieces on the stone wall, the corn and the fruit flying everywhere.

I lay down on the bed, emotionally and physically spent. I waited for the steps to sound on the stairs. For him to come and punish me for misbehaving, but he didn’t return that day.

My stomach growled with hunger as I tried to fall asleep.

I had some fight left in me. I smiled to myself. As long as I didn’t give up, or die, there was still a chance I would escape.

A chance I would get back to my real life.

But I still had no idea how to make that happen.

CHAPTER FOUR

The emotional exhaustion led to a deep sleep. When I woke up, it was nearly pitch black. Something was rustling across the room, and I bolted upright, my ears straining to hear.

There was something in the room with me, more than one something. Pieces of the plate I’d thrown scraped across the rough cement floor. My heart was in my throat. Were there rats down here? I swallowed my scream and grabbed all of my blankets, pulling them all up on the bed with me, hoping that no rats would find me interesting enough to investigate.

Holding my breath, I was backed up against the wall, the blankets pooled around me, the cold of the stone wall chilling me to the bone, too afraid to make another move. The sounds had stopped, and I didn’t want to get their attention.

My ears strained until I gave myself a headache, listening for their little feet, their little teeth gnawing on the food I had so foolishly thrown across the room. Never would I do that again.

Tears were sliding down my face again, and it made me angry. I had never been such a weak, cowardly person. I had always thought of myself as strong, confident, and capable. Never even facing any real challenges in life had left me with a false sense of power.

I scoffed as I ran through the ‘Before’ list of ‘hard things,’ like getting a bad grade, having to help out around the house when all I wanted to do was sleep, and stressing about being late to school. A frustrated scream rose up at my past self for all of the times I’d whined about not having the latest clothes or makeup, or not seeing the latest movie because I had to work. Or the time I’d found a scratch on the side of mom’s car when I had borrowed it, without asking, to go out. Hell, I hadn’t even gotten in much trouble for that one.

Now, here I was in the ‘After,’ when I had to worry about a rat chewing at my hair or, god forbid, my skin. Here I was trapped in a basement by some crazy man who could kill me without a thought and bury my body somewhere no one would ever find me. That was the good scenario. I still had no idea what his plan was, or how I could possibly escape.

I heard the skittering again and flinched. There was no energy left to even think. Pulling the blankets tighter around me, I wrapped myself up in a cocoon until I felt even a hint of security. I started to rock back and forth, trying to stay awake. No way could I bear the thought of falling asleep only to wake up to rats in my bed. Once again, tears fell from my eyes. I found the water bottle lying against the wall and took a drink to calm myself. As I tipped the bottle higher, I suddenly had a thought. Feeling around until I’d found the cuffs that had chained me to the wall. I clutched them in my hand like a weapon, and I finally felt a tiny bit of control. I didn’t feel quite as helpless. Sure, the cuffs wouldn’t go far as they were still chained to the wall, but they reached far enough that I could scare a rat away from me if it came close.
I settled back against the wall, tucking the blankets around me once again. I sat there until the noises had all stopped, and I finally fell back asleep.

I awoke the next morning to the sound of footsteps on the stairs. My neck was killing me from falling asleep sitting up against the cold wall, so I tried to stretch and gather my bearings before he came down this time. I was going to plead for him to let me go. He obviously wasn’t an evil person, he hadn’t hurt me and he had brought me food. Maybe I could convince him to let me go.

The key scraped in the lock, the sound seemed so much louder than it should have been. My breathing slowed as I waited for him to step through the door. He was carrying a plate again. This time, I was even hungrier and wanted to make a good impression. I would say ‘thank you’ this time, act nice and friendly. Maybe I could get him on my side. I moved to the edge of the bed and looked up at him.

I saw the moment when he realized I had broken the plate from yesterday. He looked at me and back down at the broken pieces of plate on the floor. His voice was a growl. “That was my mama’s plate.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” I felt bad and then confused for feeling bad. Why was I apologizing to this man… this asshole who had kidnapped me and locked me down here. I felt myself growing hot with anger. My fists clenched as he kept looking at me.

He turned and sat the new plate of food, and another bottle of water, on the dryer and stalked over to where I was on the edge of the bed. He slammed me against the wall. Then, once again, he picked me up as though I weighed nothing and dragged me across the room. He threw me to the floor by the broken plate, and I started picking up the pieces, tears pricking my eyes. Damn it. This hadn’t been my plan! I was trying to make friends and now I’d just pissed him off. I picked up the pieces and carefully held them out to him. “I’m really sorry. I was just scared.” I tried to look as contrite as I could.

He turned from me and took the plate off the dryer, dropping the broken pieces on top of the fresh food. My stomach lurched. He wasn’t going to leave the food for me. He walked to the door and started to close it.

I panicked. “Please! I’m sorry! Please leave me the food. I promise I’ll take good care of your plate! Please!”

He closed the door without another word, plodding all the way up the stairs to  the door at the top.

I sat on the floor and cried.

CHAPTER FIVE

I started making marks on the wall that second day. I was determined that I was going to get myself out of this. I wanted to count down the days. Set goals. That was how I did things ‘Before,’ and it was how I was going to go forward. I finally dragged the nail, which I’d felt with my toes that first day under the bed. It was too small to do much of anything, but I could use it to scratch a little mark in the old faded paint on the stone walls of the cellar. I chose a spot out of the way so that he wouldn’t notice, and I made two marks.

I was so hungry, I couldn’t seem to focus on anything other than the fact that I wanted to eat. I decided to make sure there was nothing left for rats to come searching for while I was awake and it was light. I found a hole in the wall near the ceiling by my bed where they were probably getting in, so I searched on the shelves for something to fill the hole. There was nothing that would fit, so I finally took one of the jars into the bathroom and broke it over the sink. The potent vinegar smell nearly knocked me over, but I had the broken pieces of glass that I needed. I took them and shoved them into the hole so the rats hopefully wouldn’t come back in.

I thought about using the glass as a weapon, but at the same time, I was terrified to do something that would make him angry enough to hurt or kill me. I took one of the larger pieces of glass, tore off the end of one of the blankets, and wrapped it, stuffing it as far as I could under my mattress. I knew it might come in handy later, when I had a better grasp of the situation. If he was ever going to try to hurt me, I would use that weapon without hesitation. I felt better just knowing it was there.

I was just sitting, staring into space, when I heard his footsteps on the stairs again. I held my breath. Hopefully, he was bringing me food. The key turned in the lock and the door swung open. He walked in with a laundry basket piled high with more clothes.

He dropped them in front of the washing machine. “This is your job. Wash the clothes, and I’ll bring food.”

I almost laughed with relief. I had been terrified that this guy was going to rape me and kill me. Maybe he just wanted a maid. It’s amazing what our brains can try to convince us of if we really try. I practically jumped up to get the laundry done, hoping to make a good impression. I don’t know what I thought that would accomplish, but I was determined to gain this guy’s trust. It was the only way I could possibly escape.

I opened the washing machine and dug around for the soap he’d brought down in the basket. I said a silent ‘thank you’ to my mom for teaching me how to do basic things like doing laundry. It may have saved my life. I was beyond glad that I didn’t have to ask this guy for instructions. I started putting the darks in the machine, watching him out of the corner of my eye. He kind of just grunted before he turned and left me alone again.

My body sagged with relief as I heard the door lock. Yeah, Lila, he just wants a maid. He’s probably lonely. That’s all.

That’s what I told myself anyway.

CHAPTER SIX

I had washed, dried, and folded two loads of laundry before I saw him again. He finally came down when it had started getting dark again. I was on the bed, feeling completely wiped out, even though all I’d done was take care of a couple of loads of clothes so far. I hadn’t eaten in a couple of days, and I couldn’t even remember the last time I had eaten ‘Before’ I had been taken. I was ready to beg and plead for something to eat. Anything.

I was sitting on the bed, just waiting to see what he would do. He came in carrying a paper bag and sat on the end of the bed. He dropped the bag on the bed next to him, and I could smell something wonderful. I didn’t even know what it was, but I was willing to get closer to him to find out. I slid myself just slightly closer and tried to peek into the bag. He didn’t move. I slid a little bit closer and watched him as my hand slid closer to the bag. My nose twitched at the wonderful smells coming from the bag. It smelled like real, hot food. My mouth started to water, and I reached for the bag without thinking.

Before I could even blink, his hand gripped my arm, just above the wrist, but painfully tight. He held my hand just out of reach of the bag. My eyes met his, startled and wide-eyed, I tried to back away, but he held me in place. His other hand reached, out and he ran his fingers down my cheek. I choked back a sob as revulsion shuddered through me. I flinched from his touch, and he dropped his hand like it was on fire. I scrambled back on the bed, sitting as far away as I could, the food temporarily forgotten even though my stomach groaned in protest. He was obviously furious, although he didn’t say a word. I watched, scared out of my mind as he sat, red-faced. His jaw clenched, and a vein pulsed in his forehead so clearly, I almost thought it might burst before my eyes. His eyes glazed over and he stared right through me. That look was almost more terrifying than his touch. It made me feel like there was ice running through my body.

I reached under the edge of the mattress and found the chunk of broken glass I had hidden there. If he tried anything, I would slice his face open.

I watched, tensed and ready to pounce as he picked up a wrapped sandwich from the bag, and I realized it was a cheeseburger. A nice, hot, greasy cheeseburger. I was drooling as I watched him unwrap the sandwich. He took a bite, still looking straight at me, and I realized he wasn’t going to try to touch me again. He was just going to eat the food in front of me, to punish me for pulling away from him. I shrank back against the wall.

If he thought he was going to manipulate me into being a willing victim, then he was wrong about me. I wasn’t going to cave. He would never touch me with my permission. Not ever. My skin was crawling at just the touch on my cheek. I couldn’t bear the thought of anything else. I turned so I was facing the wall and ignored my hunger. I was a teenaged girl. I knew how to deprive myself of food and survive. If only I hadn’t been doing that for the days ‘Before,’ I wouldn’t be in such bad shape already.

He finished the sandwich and left the room without a word. He didn’t even take the clean laundry I’d done. I realized as he shut the door and turned the key in the lock that this was probably the longest I had ever gone without talking to another human being. I wondered how long a person had to be alone before they started going crazy. Solitary confinement was a punishment for the worst offenders, right? There had to be a reason for that. I curled up in a ball on the bed and wrapped myself in the blankets, waiting for sleep to find me. Hoping that the hunger wouldn’t keep me awake for long.

I woke the next morning to sun shining through the windows. I scratched the third mark on the wall as I kept glancing at the sun coming in the small windows. I stood on the bed and tried to reach the one closest to me. I knew it was far too small to fit through, but I was desperate to actually feel a breeze, smell some fresh air, and maybe see more of the light. I could barely reach, so I tested my weight on the rickety little table by the bed. It held steady, so I stood on it, grabbing the stone ledge of the window for support.

There were cobwebs thick around the edges, and I cringed, but I was determined. With my free hand, I used my shirt to wipe away some of the cobwebs and grime. I felt a smile spreading across my face as I was able to let in a little more light. I pushed at the window frame, trying to determine how, or if, it would open. It wasn’t going to budge. There were years of built-up paint essentially gluing it shut. I was disappointed, but at least there was more light. I went to the pile of old clothes beside the washer and found a threadbare towel, which looked like something my grandma used to have. Getting it wet, I went back and spent some time cleaning the windows so I could at least see out. All I could see was the sky from my perspective, but it was better than nothing. I was so pleased about the sunshine that it honestly didn’t even occur to me at that point to break the window. I knew I couldn’t fit through it, so it just didn’t come to mind. Maybe if I’d have been able to see houses, then I would have broken the glass and yelled until I couldn’t anymore, but there was nothing I could see. Just the same blue sky I would have seen if I was at home.

I was still scrubbing at the windows, frustrated by the fact that the outside of the glass was at least as dirty as the inside. It didn’t even occur to me that I was wishing I could go outside and clean off the outer pane of glass, instead of wishing I could escape. Had I already retreated into my mind, trying to keep my sanity by pretending this was all normal? I don’t think I was that far gone at that point, but it was definitely a start.

The sound of the key in the lock jolted me out of my fog. I jumped down and sat on the bed. Hoping desperately that he was bringing me food. I saw him carrying a plate piled with food. It smelled divine. I watched him with a wariness as he came closer. He set the plate on the table and sat down beside me on the bed. I froze. I didn’t know what to do. I glanced at the door, calculating how far I could get before he caught me. A wave of dizziness came over me as I leaned forward, thinking I could spring to my feet and run for it. Instead,  I nearly fell back on the bed, black spots floating before my eyes. I knew that I was close to passing out from the hunger. I took shallow breaths until I felt a bit more stable and then, without looking at him, I asked for the food.

“May I please have some food?” I asked, using my most respectful tone.

He sat unmoving for what felt like several minutes. He took the plate and held it in his lap. It was a much bigger meal than before. There was fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and gravy. There were biscuits dripping with butter. I nearly cried at the sight and the smells wafting up from the plate. He reached out and ran his hand down my arm with a slow caress.

I gagged, choking back the bile rising in my throat, once again flinching away from him. He reached for my arm again, and I pulled away. I couldn’t stand the thought of his skin touching mine. He felt… wrong. His skin was rough and cold. It felt like pure evil.

I pulled away and sat on the other end of the bed. He sat on the end of my bed again, just like he had last night, and started eating the food while I watched. I could have cried, but I sat in complete silence, vowing not to let him know how much I wanted that food. It took him forever to finish eating, and then he stood up.

“Wait!” It felt like my voice had shouted without my permission. He turned and looked down at me. Even though I was fairly tall for a girl, he seemed to tower over me. “I need some food. I’m starting to feel sick. Please.” He grabbed me by the hair before I even realized what he was planning. He lifted me up to meet his face, my scalp on fire from the pain. My hands reached for my hair, trying to pry his fingers from his grasp. He didn’t budge. Instead, he brought his other hand up and pulled my face close to his. His breath smelled like the food he’d just eaten and cigarette smoke. I felt the bile rising in my throat again. I tried to take in a breath, but I just smelled more of him. The cigarettes, the food, the filthy body odor. I gagged again, and then he pressed his mouth to mine. I gagged, retched, and my entire body shook with it. He dropped me straight to the floor and I landed painfully on my knees, my stomach heaving when there was nothing in there to begin with. I was lying on my side on the cold hard floor, my body trying to rebel and not knowing quite what was going on. My brain couldn’t seem to figure it out, either. Who was this guy who had taken me? I didn’t understand any of it.

I stayed on the floor until I couldn’t handle the cold anymore. I dragged myself up onto the bed and pulled the blankets over me. I knew I should at least drink water, but I couldn’t find the energy to go find the water bottle. I pulled the blankets over my head to block out the sunlight and gave a wry smile as I thought about the irony.

I don’t know how long I slept, but it was still somewhat light out when I heard his footsteps on the stairs again. I was so shaky from not eating for days, I couldn’t even sit up, or at least my body didn’t want to, and I was too tired to argue with it.

He sat on the edge of my bed then. I don’t know when it had become ‘my’ bed, exactly, but I suppose it was just the way my brain was trying to hang onto some small thread of sanity. My brain was too tired for much thinking at all. He had a sandwich in his hand. It was the same white bread with peanut butter and jelly, but this time it looked like a gourmet feast. I looked at the sandwich as he held it out to me, just out of reach. His hand ran down my arm and I clenched my teeth together to stop myself from reacting. He ran his hand up and down my arm for a while, but I didn’t move a muscle. I held myself still and just pretended that nothing was happening. He helped me into a sitting position and held the sandwich out for me to take a bite. I reached for it, but he pushed my hands down. He wanted me to eat it from his hands. I was repulsed, but I needed food. I couldn’t die down here in this godforsaken basement because I was too proud to eat a sandwich out of his hands. I took a bite, blinking back tears and chewing the food as fast as I could. I didn’t want to give him a chance to change his mind, so I swallowed that and took another bite. He let me have three bites before he tried to kiss me again. I tried to hold still and just act like it was nothing, but I couldn’t. I jerked away, and I could see in his eyes that it had been a big mistake.

I really thought he was going to kill me right then. The look in his eyes was like nothing I’d ever seen before. It was almost like it wasn’t human. He dropped the sandwich to the floor, and I watched as he smeared it all over the floor. He grabbed me again and pulled me upright. He looked like he was going to say something but, instead, just threw me back on the bed. I lay there, staying so still that I thought maybe I would disappear. I heard him going up the stairs, and I counted along in my head. Ten steps. Ten rickety, creaking steps.

It was pitch black when I woke up the next time. I heard the all too familiar scrape of the key in the lock. I didn’t know why he was here in the dark, but I could hear him running his hand along the wall to guide him to me. My entire body stilled. There was only one reason he would be coming here in the dark. He was here to finish what he’d tried to start earlier. I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe. It was too late to run, but I thought I might be able to hide. I rolled off the bed and slid my body on the floor, realizing too late that the peanut butter was still on the floor by my bed. That reminded me of the rats, and I cried out at the thought of being trapped under the bed with the disgusting rats while I had food smeared all over me.

I felt his hand grab the back of my shirt and lift me to the bed. I struggled as he tried to push me backward. I felt the black spots in my vision, even in the dark room. My head was spinning, and I could almost feel the last bit of energy draining from me as I tried to fight him off. It was too late. I heard the fabric ripping even more than I felt it. It was as if my senses were trying to cope with what was happening, shutting down one by one. I tried to speak, to scream, but nothing came out. It was like a full blown nightmare where I was trying to fight him off, but my limbs stopped working. My mind gave up, shut down. Everything went dark.

I woke as the daylight brightened the room; the sun was shining like I hadn’t just been through a living nightmare, as if nothing was different, all the while my brain felt like it was in a fog, and my body felt half dead. My mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, and the night before was like a hazy, distant memory. I tried to roll over, to sit up, and I realized that my clothes were gone. I was lying naked under the blankets, and it hit me like a freight train. I’d been unconscious, but that hadn’t stopped him. I felt my skin crawling with an almost burning feeling. Like fire ants were consuming my entire being. I curled up in a ball under the blankets and felt the sobs shaking my body. I didn’t even remember the assault beyond flashes of consciousness, but the violation was there just the same. I just wanted to curl up deep inside of myself and die. Giving up felt like the best option. I felt ruined, broken… destroyed and hopeless.

I looked at the scratches on the wall. This was only day four. Day four and he’d already won. A hopelessness was draped over me like a lead blanket. It felt like movement or progress of any kind was utterly impossible. My skin was still crawling at the thought of him touching me. My brain rebelled and yet searched for connection among my spotting, flashes of memories. I tried to make sense of it in my mind, excuse it away.

Maybe he just took my clothes because they were messy, I thought for a heartbeat, before my body responded and let me know that was not all he had done. I was hurting and I wasn’t capable of dealing with it right here and right now.

I wanted my mom. I wanted my home and my bed. I cried out, more tears than I thought would be possible. I just wanted to go home.

The feeling of filth, of desperation, and violation, finally spurred me from the bed. I wrapped one of the top blankets around me and ripped all of the bedding off of the mattress. I went into the tiny bathroom with no door and stepped into the shower, trying to keep my ears open for any sounds that might indicate he was coming back.

I turned the water as hot as it would go, which wasn’t much, and scrubbed with the harsh brick of soap that had been left on the back of the toilet. The shower was filthy, but I didn’t even care. I had to get the smell, the feel of him off of me. I scrubbed until my body was red and the water was like ice. I stepped out of the shower and was drying myself off with the small towel when I realized I had no other clothes. I wrapped the blanket around myself, but I felt naked and far too vulnerable. Not that he couldn’t get me anyway, but this just left me feeling like I was open for another attack.

I looked at the bed, the blankets and sheets on the floor where I’d thrown them. I couldn’t stand the thought of getting back into the bed until it was clean, so I dragged the bedding to the washing machine. I started with the sheets and one light blanket, stuffing the machine and pouring soap over it.

I dug around in the pile of clothes beside the dryer until I found an ugly old house dress that almost fit over me. It didn’t even come close to my knees, but at least it covered part of me.

I was just putting in the second load, the dryer was grinding along with the first load, when I heard the door above open. Followed by his footsteps on the stairs. He paused on the bottom step, and I waited with goosebumps covering my body. My breathing was so shallow that I was afraid I was going to pass out again, but I couldn’t force myself to take a deep breath. I was in full out panic mode. I watched as the doorknob turned, my back pressed up against the wall as if I could make myself invisible.

He stepped inside the door with a cardboard box, set it on the floor, and left again. I heard the key turning in the lock, but I didn’t move until I heard all ten steps to the top and then heard the door at the top of the stairs close as well. I stood up, still feeling somewhat dizzy from lack of food, and went to the box. On the top was my tray of food for the day. I didn’t even stop to think, I just grabbed the sandwich and ate it as fast as I could. It was some sort of cheap bologna that tasted like some sort of meat paste, but I didn’t even care anymore. I was starving. I picked up the limp green beans by the handful, stuffing them into my mouth as I squatted next to the box, feeling naked in this too small, thin dress. I was shoveling the food into my face without even tasting it, some sort of pasta followed the green beans, and then the plate was empty. I didn’t even care, I picked it up and licked it clean.

That’s when I saw what was in the rest of the box. It was clothes. I pulled things out one by one, trying to find something that might fit. It was mostly old-fashioned dresses with a few blouses and skirts. Almost all of them were far too small for my frame. If not for the fact that I hadn’t eaten in days, I probably wouldn’t have fit into anything. I was desperate to cover myself, though, so I made do. There was one camisole type top and a large flannel shirt tucked into the bottom of the box, which were huge. It smelled of stale cigar smoke and just… age, but at this point, I didn’t care. It covered me and it buttoned. I would live in it if I could. I found one skirt that I could get on, but I had to tear the waistband to get it over my hips. Whomever these clothes belonged to was way more petite than me. And from the age and style of the clothes, I’d be surprised if they were even on earth anymore. Everything seemed practically ancient.

There were no socks or shoes anywhere, or other undergarments. I was so relieved to be covered and to have food in my stomach that I didn’t really care much at all.

The box had been packed and lined with magazine pages between some of the clothing and along the sides. I took these out and pressed them flat. The thought of having something to do with my brain other than sleep or stress myself out seemed like Heaven. I took the papers in hand, put one of the seemingly clean dresses from the box on top of the dryer and climbed up. I sat with my legs crossed, a full stomach, and something to focus on outside of my own pain. It was exactly what I needed.

It wasn’t long before the reading and the food made me drowsy. As soon as the dryer was done, I pulled out the clean sheets and made the bed. In my mind, I had just cleaned away the dirt, the filth of the experience that had happened. It was almost like I’d washed it out of my head, or at least pushed it away from my thoughts for now. I lay down and covered myself with the one thin blanket and hoped I didn’t freeze to death before the other blankets were clean. I drifted off while reading a story about being a good housewife. My mind wrapped around the absurd standards of being a ‘housewife’ back in the day. It was still better than thinking on my own reality.

CHAPTER SEVEN

I was dreaming about the night I left the mall, but everything felt slightly heightened. My senses were on high alert as I left my friends behind. As the dream unfolded, I realized that it was exactly like I remembered it. Emily offered to walk me to my car, but I wasn’t worried. It was the mall, after all. What was going to happen to me amongst all of these people?

I stepped outside the doors and braced myself against the deep chill of the wind. I had that high from shopping all of the after-Christmas sales and held my bags tight against me as I dug in my purse for my keys. I tucked the lipstick that I’d taken deeper into my pocket as a sense of guilt overwhelmed me. I wasn’t even sure why I’d done it. I didn’t need to steal it, but it was such a high to get away with something.

I was so ‘good’ all the time. This felt like just a taste of freedom and, besides, what could it hurt to steal a little $30 lipstick?

I really wasn’t in the habit of paying a lot of attention to my surroundings. Growing up in a somewhat small town and having plenty of money meant that I was fairly well sheltered from the bad side of things. I lived in a safe area of town, I went to a nice school, and I was privileged enough to have a mom who was a popular teacher at my high school. I’d had it made. Of course, I’d made sure never to be alone with boys I didn’t trust, or to go to parties and drink where someone might take advantage of me. I had been safe. Always safe. At least, that’s what I’d thought.

I looked around in my dream as though I was searching for something. Someone. Him. I found myself holding my keys like a weapon. My reality, my memories, and my dream state all twisted and twined, combining into a movie that was playing in my mind as I slept. It was as if my brain thought that if I could just get through this maze and figure out what had went wrong then I could fix it and go back in time. Things could be different. At least in my dreams.

I looked at the signs in the parking lot marking the rows of cars. There was row sixteen. I started to walk, feeling more and more nervous the further I walked. I wished I had parked closer. The crowds were starting to thin down as people got into their cars and unloaded their bags into the trunks here and there. I quickened my pace, feeling the stolen lipstick burning a hole in my pocket as the anxiety of being alone in a dark parking lot started to make me paranoid. It felt like someone was watching me. I lifted my keys to the far end of the row, beeping my keyfob and sighing in relief as I saw my lights flashing on my car up ahead. I was almost there. I was going to get inside, lock the doors, and I would be safe. And I was never going to steal anything again.

An arm with a vise grip latched onto my arm just above the elbow. “Excuse me, Miss, you’re going to have to come with me.”

My heart thudded in my chest. The adrenaline raced through me as my mind tried to think of an excuse, anything. I had a sudden impulse to run, a strong enough impulse that I nearly dropped my bags and went for it. I shook my head and told myself I was being silly. This was just security. I could talk my way out of it. I would just say I forgot I was holding it. The hand on my arm steered me between a row of cars, away from mine. “Just wait a minute. Can I put my bags in my car first? It’s right over there.”

“No, ma’am. That’s not allowed. We need the evidence in one place. Just come with me.” I still hadn’t gotten a good look at the guy, but the authority in his voice made me feel like he was in charge, even as a chill crawled up my spine. I once again felt that impulse to run.

“Yes, sir.” I thought I’d best play it safe. Act respectful and all that with the security guard so maybe he’d go easy on me. There was no need to worry. Nothing bad ever happened in our town.
He was pushing me ahead of him, between two cars, when he suddenly stopped. I heard a car door opening, but before I could even turn around, a sharp pain went through my head and I felt myself falling.

I woke up with a scream ready to burst out of my throat. I finally remembered what happened. My heart was pounding in my chest as I sat up in my bed, looking around. Once again finding myself stuck in that world of not quite being fully awake and not quite realizing where I was. The reality of my situation slowly came tumbling down on me.

I sat up and tried to think. The guy had pretended to be security. I had fallen for it without a second thought. If only I hadn’t stolen that lipstick. That damn $30.00 lipstick had sealed my fate. If not for that weighing heavily in my pocket, I would have questioned the man trying to take me somewhere. I would have insisted that I did nothing wrong. But instead, I went along with him because I was feeling so guilty, and all I could think about was how upset my parents were going to be.

At the thought of my parents, I nearly broke down again. I shook myself, physically stood up and shook myself. I had to get a handle on things or I was just going to become a slave to this sick asshole forever.

I tried to think about where I was at the mall. Where the bags ended up. How long it would take for my parents to notice that I was missing. I glanced at the marks on the wall. There were four there and I still needed to make a mark for today. Suddenly, that seemed more urgent than before. I felt like I must keep track. Something horrible would happen if I let myself lose track of the days. Maybe I would become complacent. Or give up or lose track of myself. I stood up and dug the nail out of the crevice by the floor and made a fifth mark.

Five days. My mom surely would have noticed that I was missing by late that night, or the next morning. Although I was eighteen, I still lived at home and I pretty much always let them know where I was going and when I’d be home. My car would have been found in the mall parking lot. My friends would know that was the last place I’d been.

I hid the nail again and hugged myself against the chill I was feeling. Maybe it wasn’t hopeless yet. It had only been five days. My parents probably couldn’t even report me missing for twenty-four hours, so that meant that the police had only been looking for me for a few days. There was still time for them to find me.

I looked down at the clothes I was wearing and was reminded of why I wasn’t wearing my own clothes anymore. Things had already changed. I shook off the train of thought that was just going to lead me into a depression and stood up. There had to be something I could do. Surely there was something in this room I could make a weapon out of. The next time he came down to attack me, I would be ready.

I jumped up and started running my hands along the edges of the old wooden shelves. As old and rickety as they appeared, they were solid as a rock. I growled in frustration as I searched, feeling around the corners of the wooden shelves, yanking on anything that seemed like it might be loose. I saw one last jar on the far back of a shelf and was reminded of my shard of glass that I’d hid under my mattress. I would keep that in my hand tonight. I wasn’t going quietly anymore. He was not going to get anything more from me.

I went to the bathroom and washed my face to help clear my thoughts. I looked around and, for the first time in my life, wished I had the tools to clean the bathroom. It was vile and disgusting to even look at. Hopefully, I would be gone in another day or two and none of this would matter. He could spend his days in prison while I went free. Still, I was feeling a burst of energy from actually eating and there was nothing to do. I had read all of the magazine pages. There was nothing to write with, and I was sick of being inside my own head. I wanted to DO something.

I took the papers I had and wiped at the mirror above the sink. It was barely a mirror, grungy and bent like a funhouse reflection somehow, but I could see myself. At least I thought I was seeing myself. I barely recognized the gaunt looking, stringy haired, haunted face looking back at me. I stood, staring at my reflection and feeling almost as if I was looking at a stranger. I wished I hadn’t even thought to clean the mirror. I stood there, feeling like I’d been punched in the gut, my insides roiling as I stared, nearly unseeing, at the girl in the reflection. I finally tore myself away, unwilling to see what I’d already become in such a short time. I didn’t want to know that girl in my reflection. It wasn’t me. It couldn’t be.

I started to work through the yoga poses I could remember. The physical stretching, the mental focus helped tremendously. I kept my thoughts solely on the poses I was doing. I pictured my body getting stronger. I focused on shutting out my surroundings and instead imagined I was in my favorite yoga studio in town. I closed my eyes and moved. I let my body find its own rhythm and found myself breathing deeply, sweat beading on my skin as I worked my muscles in ways they hadn’t been in a good long while. It felt fantastic. I was so lost in my own little world that I didn’t hear him walking down the stairs. I didn’t hear the key turn in the lock, and I didn’t notice him until he was standing close enough for me to smell him.

He reached out to touch me just as I opened my eyes. I jerked away and nearly fell over. I saw rage flare in his eyes.

He hated it when I pulled away from him or showed my disgust. I couldn’t help myself. He was repulsive. The smell alone nearly made me vomit. He smelled like he hadn’t had a bath in a month. His hair was stringy and so greasy that I imagined it left stains on his pillows at night. His scraggly beard grew in patches along his jawline in such a non pattern that it seemed as though even the hair on his face didn’t want to touch him.

He reached for me and caught my arm before I could get away. He started to drag me to the bed and I screamed. I fought him as hard as I could. I used my nails to scratch and claw at his hand that was gripping my arm, but it was as if I was no more than an annoying fly buzzing around. He didn’t even pause as he dropped me to the bed.

I let my body drop. I thought maybe my dead weight would be harder for him to handle, but he just turned and picked me up. I screamed and kicked like a wild animal.  I felt his knees hit the edge of the bed, and he dropped me. I started to scramble away, but he held me in place.

“You will obey me.” His voice was quiet, but deadly. The rage flowing off of him was palpable as he leaned down to come face to face with me. “You are my wife now and you will obey me.”

I felt a world of confusion. “But I’m not your wife.”

“You are mine,” he said, as though there would be no more argument. He held me with one hand while he started to unbuckle his belt.

“No! I am NOT YOURS!” I screamed and used one last burst of energy to heave him away from me. He was caught off guard and stumbled backwards. I grabbed the chance to flee and jumped to my feet. It was too late. He grabbed me by the hair and yanked me back. My scalp was on fire and tears poured from my eyes from the pain.

His voice felt slimy as he whispered into my ear, “Now you’ve been bad.” The evil emanating from him made me shake down to my core. A singsong voice came from this man, and I felt like I was dealing with yet another person. He grabbed the cuffs from the wall and closed them around my wrists once again. They were still bruised and sensitive, and it felt like he’d bound me with knives. I begged, but he wasn’t hearing me anymore. It was like he wasn’t even there.

I was pleading, crying, just repeating, “No!” over and over again. I tried to pull against his hands, against the cuffs, but he was too strong. His knee was pressing on my chest to hold me down, and I didn’t even have the breath left to fight. I watched as he pulled the belt free from his jeans.

“Be quiet or you’ll only make it worse.” He was still speaking to me in that sing song, high pitched voice. It scared me more than the angry voice. I choked back a sob and closed my eyes. I felt his breath on my face. “Now remember, you asked for this. You have not been behaving as a proper wife should. If you cry or scream, you’ll just make it worse.”

The first strike of his belt hit me across the thighs. I screamed and I thought I heard him laugh. He hit me again and again until I finally stopped making any noise. He leaned down over me again, his breath making me want to vomit. He kissed me and it was all I could do not to flinch away from him again. My entire body was on fire. He laughed again, a creepy, deadly sounding laugh that scared me beyond what I could stand. I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt him lifting my skirt over the raw welts from his belt.

I didn’t cry or scream again.

Not until he left.

Then I cried for what felt like hours and hours. Surely no one could survive a life like this. Certainly not someone like me. I wasn’t strong enough to withstand this. I was weak and sheltered. I cried until my body finally gave up and slept out of pure exhaustion.

At some point in the night, I woke and desperately had to use the bathroom. I tried rolling over and my body was instantly on fire from the beating I’d had earlier. I caught the scream of pain in my throat, feeling like I needed to be quiet. I didn’t want him to hear me and come back downstairs.

I realized then that my hands were still cuffed to the wall. I couldn’t go anywhere. My bladder felt like it was going to burst and I cried out in frustration. I tried to ignore it, fighting the urge to move, to do anything. Willing myself to go back to sleep and just ignore it, but my body wasn’t having any of that. I felt tears slipping down the sides of my face again, and I just screamed out in frustration. I was so sick of crying already. I just wanted to do something to rescue myself. To get out of this nightmare, but so far I’d been completely useless.

It finally came to a point where I couldn’t hold it anymore. I was going to pee in the bed if I didn’t move. I rolled off the bed and felt the air hit my skin as I rolled out from under the blankets into the cold air of the cellar. I sobbed as I let go and urinated on the floor like some sort of wild animal. The cuffs bruising my skin even further as I pulled away as far as I could, wanting to scream in frustration but instead just crying in despair. I crawled back into bed and tried as best as I could to slide back under the blankets before I cried myself to sleep. He had forced me to behave like an animal. I felt ashamed and then angry that I was even feeling any kind of shame. I hadn’t asked for any of this. None of this was my choice.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The next morning, I woke up with a sense of foreboding. I wasn’t even sure if it was just a fact of my life now, or if something worse was going to happen.

I rolled over to face the wall and used the metal of the handcuff to scratch a mark on the wall for day six. Six days. I told myself that I would give it a week. Maybe two weeks before I was found. I counted down. Six days. That meant in eight days I would be rescued. I could survive for eight days. I could live through anything in eight days. That was just over a week. The mantra played over and over in my mind. Eight days.

I didn’t even cringe when I heard him open the upstairs door. I counted the ten steps and waited while he unlocked the door. He came over to the bed with a plate of food like he had every morning. I looked up to see that he was staring at the liquid on the floor by the bed. He sat the plate down on the table at the end of the bed and left again, leaving me handcuffed to the wall.

It wasn’t long before he came back with a bucket full of water. He uncuffed my hands and pulled me off the bed, tossing me to my knees next to the mess. He pulled a handful of my hair as he pushed a wet cloth into my hand. “You made a mess, girl. Now it’s time to clean it up.” His voice was back to the rumbling growl. I didn’t want to bring back the terrifying voice, so I quickly grabbed the wet towel and started washing the floor. I kept washing and washing, working outwards until I was almost at the wall. At that point, he lifted me up by my arm again. “Now eat,” he said as he pushed me toward the food.

“Can I wash my hands first?” I asked, the habit too deeply ingrained in me. I didn’t want to eat with my hands after cleaning so much filth off of the floor. He grunted and I assumed that was permission, so I hurried to the bathroom before he could change his mind. I washed with the same heavy bar of soap that I had showered with yesterday and made it back to the table. The food was just as tasteless as it had been the day before, but I forced myself to eat. I was so hungry. The food was gone way too soon.

As soon as the plate was clean, he grabbed my wrist and went to cuff me back to the wall.

“No! Please!” I scrambled for some reason he might let me stay free. “Please, sir. Please. I’ll clean. I can scrub the floors or the bathroom, whatever you want!” I looked at the washer and dryer across the room. “I can even do some more laundry! Bedding or towels, even. Please. I need something to do. I’m going crazy.” I couldn’t let him chain me up again. I would never escape if I was always chained to the damn wall. I had to gain his trust.

He looked at me, suspicion in his eyes. “You will obey me?” was all he said. I almost heaved a sigh of relief. It wasn’t much, but it was a step.

“I will obey,” I said, trying not to choke on the words that I knew were a lie. I was assuming that lying to a psycho kidnapper didn’t really count as a bad thing. I needed him to let me be free. I needed to keep moving and active so that when the time came, I would have the energy to run away as fast as I could. “If you bring me cleaning supplies, I will clean. Or if you have something else you want me to do, I will do that. I just need to stay busy.” I added another ‘please’ just to be safe. I brushed the skirt down, not sure what to do with my hands now that he’d let go of me. I tried my best not to fidget, but it was difficult as he stood there staring at me without saying a word.

Finally, he turned and left, turning the key in the lock. I dropped to the bed with a heavy sigh, determined not to cry today. I was done crying. It was time for action.

He came back not too long after that with a box of cleaning supplies. There was an old gallon jug of ammonia, a jug of bleach, and a bunch of old rags that just looked like old T-shirts. I’d never even used ammonia before, but I at least knew not to mix it with bleach. There was a can of some sort of abrasive cleaner in the bottom of the box under the rags. I couldn’t begin to explain it to you, but I was so happy to have the distraction, to have anything to do. I didn't want to think about how thrilled I was with this 'gift' of cleaning supplies. I immediately jumped up and took the bucket to the bathroom, dumping the water and filling it again from the shower. I was so busy with the task at hand that I didn’t notice that he had followed me to the tiny little bathroom. I turned and almost ran into him.

He grabbed my arm again, his fingers feeling cold as death as they clamped around my arm. “Say thank you.” It was that dead sounding voice again.

I took a breath. “Thank you for the cleaning things,” I said in a near whisper. I was honestly terrified that he was going to assault me again, but he just grunted something unintelligible and left the room, locking the door behind him. I finished filling the bucket half full of water and added a healthy dose of bleach. Then I got to work scrubbing every single surface I could, dumping out the dirty water dozens of times until I had used all of the bleach and my hands were raw. I felt so accomplished for the first time in days, but my body was worn out from everything. I looked around the room and, although it was still dingy and dirty in most places, I was making a dent. It felt good to have had something to do with myself. It was time for a break, so I lay down and had a nap.

I woke up to the key once again turning in the lock. “Hello, Wife.” This was the first time he had greeted me when he came into the room. It was strange and made me feel even more uncomfortable. I did want him to trust me though. Maybe if I played along with something, then he’d let me go upstairs. I’d have a lot better chance of escaping if I could get out of this cellar.

“Hello,” I answered him.

“I brought you more food,” he said, bringing a plate and setting it down on the table once again. He’d brought me food twice in one day. This seemed like progress. He had something else in his hands that looked like a wad of fabric. He thrust it towards me. “I brought you a gift.”

I wasn’t sure what to do, so I just took it. I realized at that point that the fabric was just a type of wrapping on the ‘gift’ he had been holding. I unwrapped it to find two paperback books. I almost cried with relief. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I wasn’t expecting this. I guess I had thought it was going to be something horrifying, something bad. I actually had to swallow a few times to keep from crying. Is this how sad I was? That a couple of old books made me cry after less than a week of being alone? “Thank you,” I said, so quietly I wasn’t sure he heard me.

He left then without another word. I heard his slow footsteps once again, and the upper door closed before I let out a heavy sigh of relief. I sat back against the wall, looking at the two books in my hands. They were obviously old, I could smell the musty pages before I even opened the books. I wondered for a moment who they had belonged to, but that just brought to mind other girls, women, being tortured and held prisoner just like me. I couldn’t let my mind go there, so I decided to consider it a positive thing.

This must mean that he was starting to ease up a bit. Maybe he was thinking of me like a person instead of just a nameless prisoner. I needed him to think of me as a real person with feelings. If I could just get him to feel any kind of sympathy for me, then he’d be more likely to let me go. Brute strength wasn’t something I had on my side, but I had brains. I would use them to get out of here. I grabbed the plate of food and sat it on my lap, smiling to myself. My mom used to give me ‘The Talk’ about scheming and plotting to get my way in my friendships. Maybe it would finally come in handy. I’d use my manipulative powers for good this time.

CHAPTER NINE

The next two weeks passed in a blur. I’d guess I was a creature of habit because I found myself getting into a routine, even in this nightmare.

I never really thought about it before, but until this moment, I just always went with the flow. I took the classes my parents suggested. I accepted the job that my friends wanted me to take. I joined the groups that all of my friends did, and I spent my free time doing what everyone else wanted to do. I found it comfortable to just do what everyone else was doing and had never paid much attention to what I actually wanted from my own life.

Before, I would get up and eat the breakfast my mom fixed for me before picking up my friends from school in the car my parents had picked out for me. I was always on time for everything because I was so afraid of causing anyone else stress or worry. I did all the things a ‘good kid’ is supposed to do. No wonder I tended towards being manipulative. It was the only way to get anything that I did want, without disrupting the status quo. My scheming allowed me to get my own way occasionally, while allowing everyone else to assume I was just going along as always. I didn’t have to worry about upsetting anyone, and I kept my pristine reputation as the girl who never did anything wrong.

I would wake up with the sun shining in the window each morning and scratch a mark on the wall. Then I would get up and clean something before he came down with food. He seemed to be happy to just bring me food and a ‘gift’ of books or cleaning supplies. I found it odd, but I wasn’t going to argue. I was doing laundry on occasion as well. There were the clothes that belonged to him as well as old, worn linens from the house. It almost seemed like he must be going through the house to find things for me to do. There were the occasional women’s clothing, but it was all so tattered and out of style that I was fairly sure it didn’t belong to anyone still living here. I didn’t let my mind dwell on where the clothing had come from. I was just happy for something to do.

He hadn’t hit me again since the night with the belt. I had learned not to flinch when he touched me, which wasn’t often in the daytime. He would bring my food and a book or something and then touch my hair or run his hand down my arm. It seemed like he was testing me, maybe even looking for a reason to punish me, but I would just freeze until he stopped. He didn’t seem to care if I liked it or not, as long as I didn’t flinch.

At night, when it was dark, sometimes he came down. It wasn’t every night, but when he did, my body was wide awake, wracked with a near panic as soon as I heard the door upstairs scrape against the floor as it opened. I would listen, my body screaming out for me to run away before he hit the tenth step, but there was nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. I didn’t want to risk being beaten again when there was no way to escape. I just lay there in the darkness and let my mind go somewhere else while it was happening. He never spoke when he visited me in the dark. It seemed as if it was almost a mechanical thing for him that he just needed to do, and then he’d leave me alone again. I got so good at running away in my own mind, that I’m not sure I even remember how often it happened.

I would wait until he left and then I would have a shower and put a clean blanket down on the bed. I couldn’t stand to sleep on the sheets that smelled of him. The scent of sex mixed with the constant mildew of the cellar was forever burned into my brain, and I wondered if I would ever be able to have a life in which that wasn’t a horrifying smell. I tried not to think about it too much.

I was still determined to escape or be rescued, but I was beginning to have thoughts of what it would be like to try to return to the normal world, with my regular friends after weeks of this… life. Weeks of being assaulted, beaten, chained to a bed, kept prisoner in some guy’s basement. How would I ever go back to a life of shopping and being silly? How would I face my parents and my friends? What would they think of me? I didn’t want to think about it, but sometimes the thoughts just crept in when I wasn’t on guard. I hated the thought of the sympathetic looks. The disgust I knew I would see in some people’s eyes. I shut off that train of thought once again.

I did some sort of exercise every day. I knew when the chance came to escape, I needed to be in good shape. I had been listening every day for some sign of where I was being held. There was no traffic sounds at all. Occasionally, I’d hear the faint hum of an airplane, but never often enough to warrant having an airport nearby. There were no police sirens in the night, no horns blaring, or loud cars driving by. As a matter of fact, I rarely heard anything outside at all. I assumed he must have brought me to some rural area. Maybe a farmhouse somewhere. That at least explained why no one had heard me screaming. It made me feel yet another level of hopelessness when I realized that I may very well find a way to escape this house only to find myself stuck in the middle of the country with nowhere to run.

I also cleaned something each day, and, for probably the first time in my life, I felt like cleaning was something cathartic. I scrubbed at every nook and cranny until the shower and the bathroom were starting to look presentable.

I had gotten him to bring me some more clothes, shampoo, and a toothbrush. Just little things that helped me feel a little more human. He wouldn’t allow me any newer clothes, though. Only the old skirts and dresses similar to the ones he’d brought me before. That was it. It didn’t really matter to me, as long as I could feel at least moderately covered. It’s not like anything I wore would stop him if he didn’t want it to. I tried not to think about it too much. I focused on other things, or I lost myself in the cheap paperback books he brought down for me.

I was building quite the collection. They were all old, dusty paperbacks from who knew where, but they helped me pass the time.

When I wasn’t busy with that, I was trying to plan how to get away. I felt like my daily routine was keeping me from falling off the cliff of insanity, but I was still teetering right on the edge. I needed human interaction. I was afraid I was going to start wanting his attention just to feel less alone. I’d heard of it happening before with kidnapped people, stockholm syndrome or something like that, and the thought terrified me.

I still made the marks on the wall. It helped me in some small way, which I really couldn’t explain. It gave me some sense of normalcy and made me feel like I was actually counting down to something. To the end of my imprisonment. I’m not sure why, but I felt an almost compulsive need to make a mark every single morning.

It was on day twenty-five that things took a confusing turn.

CHAPTER TEN

The day was pretty normal in the grand scheme of things. He brought me food twice that day. I wasn’t feeling really well, so I was mostly just lying in bed all day. I felt oddly exhausted and figured that it was just the stress building up. I groaned when I woke up from my nap with cramps that left no room for mistaking what was going on. I had been here for three weeks, and my period had decided to make an appearance. I hadn’t even thought about it. I used one of the clean rags and stuffed it between my legs. I didn’t even have any underwear down here, much less feminine supplies. I didn’t know what else to do.

He was so quiet this night, or I was so exhausted, that I didn’t even hear him on the stairs or at the door. It was his hand pulling back the blanket that woke me. He pulled up my skirt and, for the first time since he had beaten me with the belt, I pushed him away. I wasn’t really thinking. I was groggy and tired, but I knew I was having my period and I didn’t want him to touch me.

I hadn’t said anything though, and, before I could even think of opening my mouth to explain, he slapped me across the face. It was like an explosion going off in the side of my head. I cried out and grabbed my face as if I could mute the pain. He grabbed my legs and pulled me half off the bed.

I kicked out, not wanting to be touched. I didn’t want to explain, I was furious in my own right, and I just wanted out. I was done. I kicked until he grabbed my legs and pinned them against the bed with the weight of his body.

“Please, no.” I said, “Not tonight, please.” It was too late. He was enraged by my refusal. He wasn’t going to hear me, no matter what I said. He grabbed my legs and I screamed at him, “I’m BLEEDING, you asshole! I’m bleeding! Leave me alone!” I tried to kick at him again, but he was holding my legs tight. “I’m on my period! Leave me alone!”

He dropped my legs like they were on fire. He stumbled backward, and I realized that he was horrified by me in this state. He couldn’t handle the reality of it. It was odd, but I could almost feel him shrinking away, like a period could be contagious or cause him to start bleeding from his genitals. I probably would have smiled at that thought if not for the absolute horror of the situation.

“Whore.” I thought I heard him say it, but it was spoken in such a low whisper that I wasn’t sure until he repeated it again, a louder whisper this time, “WHORE!” I could hear him scrambling for the door. “Unclean!” He sounded absolutely horrified, and I could almost feel the power of his disgust for me as he unlocked the door and slammed it behind him.

I was really confused as to his reaction. This was just a normal thing. Had he never learned about periods? I knew I’d have a mess to clean up in the daylight, so I searched around for the extra rags I’d shoved in the box under the bed and rolled one up and stuck it between my legs, hoping for the best. I was so completely exhausted. I didn’t want to deal with this anymore. Apparently, my brain didn’t either. I fell asleep without thinking much of anything else.

I woke up the next morning to find a box of food and a case of water just inside the door. I hadn’t heard a thing. There was more food than I’d had in a week. and random things that would have come from a food pantry shelf at some old church everyone had forgotten about. I wasn’t sure if this meant he wasn’t planning to come back for days, or if he was just sick of preparing my food. I kind of figured after his reaction last night, maybe he just thought I was some kind of evil being for having a period and I wasn’t going to see him for a while. That was fine with me.

I actually unpacked the food and put it on one of the old shelves where the old canning jars used to go. It felt good to claim this space as my own. Some part of me still wanted to rebel, to only think of my escape, but another part of me needed to feel the comfort of ‘home’ for a while, even if this was not my home. I felt almost guilty even just putting things on shelves. Like I was giving up or something, but the need for organization, to feel like I was doing something, outweighed any feelings of guilt.

I put the bags of crackers, chips, pretzels, and cereal on the shelves next to the loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter. There was a jar of olives, some pull top cans of vienna sausages, and some other random canned vegetables. He hadn’t included a can opener, so I’m not sure what he expected me to do with it, but I set the cans on the shelves anyway.

The bottom of the box was lined with white paper and some church bulletins. I gathered these up and took them to the bed. The church pamphlets might give a me a clue as to where I was. I was disappointed to see that there was no town listed anywhere. No recognizable name, just ‘First Methodist Church’ on the cover. I didn’t recognize any of the family names in the short little articles listed. I didn’t recognize any of the photos, but since they looked at least a decade out of date, it made me wonder if any of the food was going to be good. I was going to have to chance it because I had a feeling he wouldn’t even be back to check on me for days. Not after leaving me with all this food.

A thought percolated in my mind. What if he had left for a few days? This might be the perfect time for me to find a way out without worrying that he would catch me.

I let the papers fall to the bed and jumped up like a rabbit coming up out of a burrow. I scanned the room, my mind racing, trying to figure out what to try first. I saw the rickety table and thought getting a good view out the window might be a good start. I planted the table in the corner and moved my bed as close as I could. With the table top wedged firmly between the bed and the shelves, I tentatively stepped on it to test my weight. It seemed to hold.

I put my full weight on the table and pulled myself up to look out the window. I checked again, like I had done a hundred times, but it was way too small for me to get my body through such a cramped space, even if I could get myself up high enough to try. I’d end up stuck halfway out if I could even get my head through it in the first place.

I looked as far as I could in every direction, but the only thing I could see, other than tall grasses and a fence, was a big barn leaning to the side like a drunk man trying to walk a tightrope. I growled in frustration, even though I’d had enough of a peek through the windows before. I don’t know why I expected anything else.

I jumped off of the table and headed for the door he always kept locked. I tried the doorknob, just to check. Maybe in his haste, he’d forgotten to lock it this one time. I knew the chances were slim, but I had to try. It was a very solid, very locked door. I yanked on the door knob, twisting and turning it out of pure frustration.
I tried everything. I even tried using the small nail I’d found to try to pick the lock. I’d seen movies; I had an idea how it was supposed to work. I worked at that lock until I was too hungry to continue. I ate a peanut butter sandwich while I glared at the door. It was my only way out and I couldn’t conquer it.

I went to bed that night with a full stomach, knowing I wouldn’t be bothered by him, and, still, I slept fitfully all night. I dreamed of escaping, of narrowly getting away only to be caught and dragged back again. He became a monster in my dreams. Larger than life, with powers I couldn’t possibly fight. I had nightmares of him assaulting me over and over, and I kept waking myself up with my own screams.

The next day, I woke up feeling raw and vulnerable from my nightmares and lack of sleep. I was feeling so hopeless and depressed that I kind of just gave up. I lay in bed and read the last of my paperbacks. I didn’t clean, I didn’t exercise, I just slept and read my books. I imagined that I was away at a camp. Some rustic place out in the middle of nowhere with my friends. I started to imagine out conversations and just got lost in my own imaginary world. This was my last freedom, my imagination. He couldn’t take that away from me.

He left me alone for seven days. I counted them on the wall each morning. I had been gone for a month. I wondered how my family was doing, if they were still looking for me or if they had given up thinking that I was dead. I cried for my mom, knowing it would be so devastating to her.

It struck me, during those long dark days, that the only way I was ever going to escape was by catching him off guard. By beating him in some way so I could get the keys and run. I grabbed the large shard of glass I had and hid it under my pillow. When he came back, I was going to be ready. The next time he skulked into my room in the pitch black of night, I was going to take him out. He wouldn’t expect it, and he wouldn’t be able to see a thing.

I practiced making it to the door in the dark. I counted the steps it took to get from my bed to the door. I raced in the pitch black of night. I rearranged my bed and table so that he would be off balance if he tried to chase me. I imagined the moves I would make. How I would cut him with the glass and then kick him as hard as I could in the most sensitive place he had. I had a plan in place, and it felt good. I felt powerful. I was ready. Unfortunately, nothing was as easy as it seemed in the movies.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

When he finally came back, I was almost happy to see him. I hadn’t realized how awful it was to be alone. Back home, I had relished getting time to myself, but this was different. Day after day with no conversation, with no human interaction, was driving me mad.

The doorknob rattled as the key scraped in the lock, and I nearly jumped out of my skin with a strange mixture of fear and excitement. I would be escaping soon. I would be free.

He stepped through the door, and I could tell that something was different. Up until now, he’d barely said a word to me in the entire month he’d held me here. He’d been quiet and aloof, almost like he was too shy to interact with me - until he had the cover of darkness to assault me.

Now he stood tall, an odd smile on his face, which sent a shiver through me. I found myself scooting back on the bed. He walked over to me and grabbed my legs. He started unbuckling his belt with one hand as he pulled me to the edge of the bed with the other. My mind was in a panic. Everything I had planned was for the darkness. The cover of night was my biggest weapon.

I screamed. Even a week had left me feeling almost safe, complacent. I looked up at him, wanting to beg. My voice died in my throat. He was looking at me with an almost gleeful look on his face, a sick smile twisting his mouth. I tried to pull back, get away, but it was no use. He was pulling up my skirt and I made a choice. I wasn’t going to let him get his way this time. Not without a fight. Fury raged through me and I grabbed the piece of glass I had hidden away. I held the cloth covered end in my hand, and I waited until he leaned down.

I brought my pathetic little weapon up with as much force as I could muster. I didn’t care if he saw it, I was going to get him. I realized in that moment that I just wanted him dead. It wasn’t enough that I escape, I wanted to kill him. The glass flew toward his neck, and I screamed with all of the rage that had built up over the last month. I felt it hit, I watched it slice through the skin of his jaw. My aim was off, but the weapon worked. Blood gushed from the wound and he bellowed like an injured animal. Screaming in rage, he jumped back, his hand already swinging toward my face. The force of his hand connecting with my head snapped my neck so hard, I heard it crunch. He was holding the gash on his face, blood pouring through his fingers. He screamed again, and I saw his fist coming towards me. I felt a burst of pain as colorful as a fireworks show, and then everything went black.

There was no coming back from that. The next day, he chained me to the wall and tore the room apart, searching for any kind of weapons. He even took my bed frame and left me with just a mattress on the floor. He ripped the shelves from the wall and took every bit of wood, nails and glass from the room. The glass that I’d shoved in the hole in the wall was soon gone as well. He ripped the mirror off of the bathroom wall. I watched as every bit of hope for escape was torn away.

He ripped most of my books into shreds and left them in piles on the floor. He didn’t bring me any food, and he left without undoing my cuffs.

I didn’t see him until the next day.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Everything changed after that. He knew I wanted to escape and that I was willing to fight. I guess he had gotten to the point of thinking that he had defeated me, until I had finally fought back again. Now it was all different. He still brought me food in the mornings, but he no longer needed the cover of darkness to assault me. He still didn’t talk much, but he started to remind me that I belonged to him. He’d look at me with this smile that sent a chill down my spine every single time. He’d grab me by the neck and kiss me, calling me his wife. I no longer felt safe for even a minute of the day. He could come down to my room whenever he wanted, and he did. He might come down five times a day just to torment me, or he might not come down at all.

Then the mind games started. He would bring a box, a ‘surprise,’ and make me beg for it. Then he started making me kneel or beg for my food. He threatened to take my clothes away if I didn’t do what he asked. He was manipulating me, and I didn’t know how to fight back. He was trying to break me down, and he was succeeding.

I started to use my manners before he’d even ask, I would kneel and bow my head when he came down with my food. I would beg and plead for my ‘gifts’ and then say thank you the times he’d actually give them to me. It was never anything much, just books, mostly. Those were my greatest treasure, my best escape from this life. It was the only way I was keeping my sanity at all intact.

As soon as I caved to his demands and started being more pliable and meek, then he just escalated them more. I realized what was happening, but I felt powerless to stop it. I was broken in body and spirit. I had no hope left.

My period came again, and he once again left me alone for nearly seven full days. I knew I would look forward to this reprieve every month.

When he came back, it was the same mind games, but he stepped it up this time. His first day back, he came with a box, but instead of just holding it out of my reach, he opened it and pulled out a notebook and a pencil.

“Would you like to write a letter?” he asked me, a vicious, self satisfied smirk on his face.

I didn’t dare to hope, but I had to take the chance. “A letter? To my family?” His smile grew wider and he lifted a brow, wanting me to ask, to plead for it. I did. “Yes, please. Please, if you let me write a letter to my mother, if you will make sure she gets it, I will do anything. Please.” I choked back a sob. I hadn’t cried since my failed escape attempt. Not once had my emotions been strong enough to cry. It was as if he’d pushed me, hurt me so much, that my mind had just flown away and escaped with all of my emotions. I went through my days by rote. I didn’t care about anything, and I kept all thoughts that might make me feel far from me. I had stopped even thinking about my family because it hurt too much. I felt like I was living on an alternate plane and nothing from my old life existed anymore. It just made it easier.

I didn’t realize he hated that. He wanted to see me cry, to see me raging, and to feel me fighting him. He didn’t want complacency. He wanted a fight. A challenge. He wanted to win.

Even if I had realized all of that at the time, I don’t think I would have cared. I was too desperate. The thought of being able to ‘talk’ to my mom, to reassure her, even just with a letter, was too much of an opportunity to pass up. I had been so worried about her health, her anxiety, and her heart problems. The thought of being able to write to her was the closest I was going to get to being set free, and I would have done anything to make that happen. Anything at all, and he knew it.

“You can write your mother a letter. If you behave and do everything I ask, I will mail the letter to her for you.” The smirk on his face grew more pronounced.

“I will!” I grabbed for the notebook, but he held it out of reach.

“You will do anything I ask?” I could tell by the vile tone of his voice that he had something truly horrible planned. I couldn’t imagine anything worse than what I’d already dealt with, so I agreed.

I figured he would make me prove it right then, but he surprised me and tossed the notebook and pencil onto the bed.

“Thank you,” I whispered as I gathered them up and huddled in the corner of the mattress. He watched me without a word as I opened the notebook and started writing. My eyes were dry as I wrote as neatly as I could on the page. I was begging my mom to find me, that I missed her. I was just writing without a thought, finally pouring my heart out on the paper, saying those things I hadn’t had a chance to say in months. I wrote until my hand was cramping up and my writing was no longer legible. I made a sound of frustration as the pencil went limp in my hand. I couldn’t even grip it any longer.

He grabbed the notebook out of my hand and started to read what I’d written. He was shaking his head as he read the words I’d put down. He looked at me with a mocking look. “Oh, you poor baby,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Do you really want your mother to know what you’ve been doing these last two months? Do you really want her to know what you’ve turned into?”

I started to doubt myself. My thought had just been to get the words out, to talk to my mom again after all this time. I hadn’t been thinking about him reading my words. I hadn’t even considered how my mother would feel upon reading it. I reached for the notebook to try again, but he held it out of reach.

“No second chances. Not today. First, it’s time to pay for the privilege.”

And just like that, my life took another turn for the worse. He held the chance over my head until I was so completely degraded that I felt like I would never find myself again. I just wanted a chance to make my mom stop worrying. That’s all I wanted.

It took two more weeks before I finally managed to write a letter that he found acceptable. He brought me an envelope to address and put the letter in. I could only hope he would do as he said and actually mail the letter. I decided to trust that he would because my mind was already teetering on the edge, and I needed to believe my mom would see my words.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

My life took on a routine again. I had become completely numb to him. There was nothing he could do to me that hadn’t already been done. I was fading into nothingness; I didn’t care if I lived or died. He tried to make me angry, but nothing worked. He tried to get me to beg and plead for gifts, but I refused.

I guess I felt like that letter to my mother was my goodbye. I had said what I needed to say, and then I just gave up. I stayed in bed pretty much all of the time. My mind felt like it was floating away more often than not.

I could tell he was getting angry with me. He started getting rough with me, and still I didn’t react. I didn’t care. I wanted to die and end it. I wanted it all to be over, and nothing was going to change my mind.

I counted down the days by making a mark every day, but instead of counting down the days to my escape or my rescue, now I was just counting down the days until I could die. I stopped eating at day ninety. Even the week of freedom from his visits didn’t inspire me at all. I simply didn’t have any emotions left to care about anything.

Or so I had thought.

He was smarter than me, or maybe just more evil than me.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

At a hundred days, I felt truly broken. I wasn’t even sure why I was still marking the days, when all I wanted to do was die. I had barely eaten in days, other than when he would stay and watch, forcing me to eat with a threat of some worse punishment. I would gag down the food, feeling angry that he wouldn’t even let me go.

I felt another piece of me break off and fall, crashing to the ground of everything I had been. I started to accept this was my life, and I was never going to be free. I knew he wasn’t going to let me die, and he was never going to set me free. I had to come to terms with that. Either that, or I was going to have a complete mental breakdown.

In a way, I was terrified that if I let that happen, then I would never recover. I would never be myself again. It’s hard to explain, but I kind of just took the parts of me that I wanted to keep, and I stuffed them away in my mind or my heart. I just shoved them way back in a room and shut the door. The only part of me that was left didn’t care about much at all. That part of me was my protector, the sentry guarding my sanity.

I supposed that said a lot about the human brain. That we could just adapt and remember or notice what we wanted. There was only so much grief, so much pain, that a person could handle before their brain started making adjustments to make room for sanity. It made me wonder how many other people had been through similar things. I could still vividly remember hearing about kidnapped women being found after months or years or even decades of captivity.

Every time I’d seen those headlines, I had thought how fortunate it was that they were free and could have their lives back. It seemed like they had been saved and all was right with the world. Now, I knew differently. I could revisit those headlines, those news stories of the parents and families sobbing happy tears. I could see the photos of the women who were now free, but who were still dead inside. I had the experience to know that they weren’t free, and maybe they never would be. It made me wonder - even if I could get out of here, would I ever be free? Would it even matter?

As I scratched the 100th mark in the wall, I realized that it was a milestone of sorts. I was still here, in the endless gloom of this basement, and yet I had survived it all thus far. I wondered if maybe I was strong enough after all. If maybe I could make it through to the other side.

I lay in bed that night and felt a sudden sense of comfort. A burst of strength was flowing through me out of nowhere. It would probably sound strange now, but I felt as though my mom was there. She must have gotten my letter and she was thinking of me. I could feel it. I could almost hear her voice, comforting me, telling me she loved me.

“You can survive this. You are so much stronger than you think. Don’t give up.”

It was such a mom-thing to say that I smiled. Maybe I was just dreaming, I didn’t even care. I slept better that night than I had in weeks. I woke up the next day feeling a spark of something new. The feeling of hope was almost unrecognizable to me at that point, but I embraced it. I took it

as a sign that my mom was going to find me. I was going to be free. I convinced myself that he had made some stupid mistake when he mailed the letter to my parents, and now he would be caught.

I woke up and had a shower for the first time in well over a week. I felt a change in the air, a spark of energy that had been missing. Something was different, my luck was about to change. I just knew it.

He came down that morning with an air of excitement. Could he feel the same sense of change that I did? If he had, though, he wouldn’t have felt excited. We wanted different things. Just the same, the air was almost humming with the new energy.

He slammed my plate down on the table and turned to me. I actually flinched from the look in his eye. He looked really amped up. I had never really seen anyone on drugs, but I wondered if he was on something. The energy was just pouring off of him, and he looked like he was teetering on the edge of some sort of mental explosion. I crawled back to the corner of my mattress, hoping he wasn’t going to come after me. Even just the look on his face had washed away any sense of goodness I’d been feeling. I could feel the dread flowing through my bones as I watched him practically bouncing with excitement.

“I have a surprise for you!” His voice sounded weird, almost distorted. “A big surprise!”

I was far too wary to think it was going to be a good surprise, so I just sat there, huddled in the corner and trying to avoid meeting his eyes. I felt him pulling my arm, lifting me to my feet, and I just wanted to sink into the ground. I had been feeling so positive just moments ago.

“Don’t you want a new surprise?” He shook me like I was a petulant toddler. “Don’t you know how to be thankful?” He grabbed my arms and stared into my eyes, his own flickering with the fires of rage and insanity. “Maybe you don’t want a surprise. Maybe you just want to be alone down here forever?”

I felt a glimmer of something. Not hope, exactly. I tried to think of something to say, the right words to use that would make him let me go.

“I thought maybe you’d want a big change in your life.” He let my arms fall and started to turn away. “I thought you’d want what I was going to offer, but I guess if you don’t want it…”

I let him get into my head. I thought he was going to let me go. I fell to my knees and begged. “Please. I want the surprise.” I was whispering to the floor. I knew he didn’t care how much I begged, but once I started I couldn’t stop.

“Maybe I’ll give you your big surprise tomorrow.” He walked to the door. “Be ready, my sweet girl. I’ll let you have your surprise tomorrow…if you’re good between now and then.”

He left, closing and locking the door behind him.

My emotions were in a complete whirlwind of chaos. I couldn’t seem to lock down any feelings at any one time. Hopefulness flitted around, dancing about with anxiety and stress, stretching and wrapping around the warmth and comfort I’d felt the night before from my mom’s imagined presence.

It surely couldn’t be a coincidence that she’d come to mind so strongly right before this ‘surprise’ had been announced. Maybe he was going to let me go. He was just going to torment me with the promise of it for a while first. I thought I could deal with any torment as long as I knew I would soon be free.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

101 Days. My surprise finally came. I was so wrong to think he was giving me my freedom. He wasn’t talking about letting me go. He had been hinting for days that my life was about to change, and he was right. But I was so, so horribly wrong.

He’d done everything he could to let me think I was being set free. He told me that this surprise would change my life and make me happier than anything else I could ever wish for. I didn’t want to let myself hope, but I did. My brain was clinging to even the tiniest thread of possibility.

My surprise had arrived that night. I had waited with a sense of dread, combined with a weird hopefulness. I knew it wasn’t likely that he’d just let me go, but I knew something was going to change. I could only hope for the best.

He’d come down and put my cuffs on, chaining me to the wall. His odd energy was even more intense than it had been earlier. It left me feeling nervous and on edge, even more than before. When he’d returned, he brought my ‘surprise’ down the stairs, singing a song like it was a birthday song. His crazy, creepy, warbling voice singing off key and echoing down the stairwell was terrifying.

The door opened soundlessly. I had strained against my chains, still under the delusion that he was letting me go free. Then he stepped into my line of vision, a bundle in his arms. He was carrying it like it was a child.

The thought struck me, and I nearly passed out. I stumbled and braced myself against the wall. No, I thought, Surely he didn’t…

He came over to my mattress on the floor and deposited the bundle on my bed. I took heart in the fact that it didn’t move at all. He was just playing another of his mind games on me. I fell to my knees, silent sobs wracking my body. I thought he had taken another girl.

I felt his foot nudging me none too gently in the ribs. “Hey! Stand up and fucking appreciate the gift I’ve brought you!”

I jumped at that. I knew the next time it would be a kick or another beating. I would avoid that at all costs. I grabbed at the bundle on the bed and started trying to unwrap the bundle of rags. It was so heavy. Like a dead weight. I froze, my heart dropping to the floor. There was a hand in the bundle. An icy cold hand, attached to an arm.

“No, no, no, no,” I started moaning and didn’t even quite realize I was speaking out loud until I felt a sharp pain on the side of my head. I stumbled and nearly fell, but I’d been hit too many times for it to take me down this time. I dug and clawed at the fabric, the cuffs on my wrists scraping the skin raw, hoping that the body on the bed was at least still alive. There was such an intense pain at the back of my throat, a burning ache driving up into my sinuses as I tried not to cry.

I had her uncovered in seconds. She looked a little younger than me, but not by much. She looked pale and she wasn’t moving. I shook her, screaming, trying to get her to wake up. “Oh god, don’t be dead, please don’t be dead,” I said over and over. Still, I screamed again and again, louder and louder, as I shook the girl lying limp on my bed.

I heard him laughing then, a dry, rusty sound that made me grit my teeth. “I guess I must have left your gift in the trunk a little too long. I had to wait for it to get dark before I brought her in. I didn’t want anyone ruining the surprise.” He laughed again. “I guess that was my doin’, but, girl, you’d best fix it and fix it fast, or it’s going to start smelling pretty bad down here soon.”

I wanted to kill him right then. I didn’t care enough about myself anymore, maybe I never would again, but this girl right here, she was innocent. She needed help or she was going to die. I didn’t have the energy to waste on reacting to him. I looked at him, at the absolute insane glee on his face, and I screamed at him like a feral animal in a trap. The more I raged, the harder he laughed. Something inside of me snapped my attention back to the girl so unceremoniously dumped at my feet. I had to help her.

I tried to remember the CPR class from high school and started giving her breaths, pushing on her chest and hoping I wasn’t going to break her somehow. Tears fell onto my hands as I leaned over her, pumping my fists on her chest, willing life back into her body, my chains rattling against her limp body like I was some damn ghost.

Suddenly, she coughed and jerked against my hands. She started gasping for breath, grabbing my hands and clenching them in terror. Her hands felt like ice, and I had a sudden feeling that she was a ghost trying to take me to the other side. My grasp on reality was feeling very tenuous. Her eyes met my face and I could tell that she was lost and confused… and absolutely scared out of her mind. She needed me and that fact snapped me back to earth. I had to help her.

I twined my hands with hers and drew her to me, pulling her into my arms the best I could with handcuffs on, trying to give her some sense of comfort. My own mind filling with a sick sense of dread as I realized I had just saved her only to bring her into this life of hell. The tears still streaked down my face as I rocked her back and forth, her body nearly limp as she cried on my shoulder.

She didn’t yet realize what had happened. I looked past her to him. He was standing there with a look of glee as he watched us. He knew I would take care of her, and I could already see it in his eyes: he was going to use her to punish me if I didn’t behave. And it was going to work like a charm.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The girl's name was Valerie. I thought she was probably named after her grandma or something like that. A weird, old lady name for such a young girl. She was close to my age, but I felt like I’d surely aged at least fifty years since I'd been down here.

She was terrified and cried pretty much all day for the first couple of days. She didn’t want to talk, she just sat in the corner of the basement, curled up in a ball, looking terrified. She was mumbling to herself and obviously trying to convince herself that she was just stuck in some sort of nightmare.

He left us alone for those first couple of days. He brought us food and stood watching us, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t touch either of us, just stood there looking at us with that creepy evil smirk on his face.

I was feeling desperate to get through to Valerie. She was the closest thing to a friend I’d seen in over three months. I tried talking to her. I told her my name, I asked for hers. I told her about my family, my life before…this. I didn’t get much more than her age and name. She refused to eat and just seemed to be sinking into herself before my eyes.

I think it was on the fourth day that she finally spoke.

He brought the tray of food like he always did, but this time he dropped it on the bed beside me and left, not bothering to watch us eat this time. I glanced at the tray of food to see that there was something different. I couldn’t help it, my eyes lit up. There were pudding cups, those cheap, fake little pudding cups sitting beside the plates of stale looking sandwiches and canned vegetables.

“Hey, we got pudding today!” I couldn’t keep the excitement out of my voice.

She just looked up at me in confusion. I could tell she was in a bad place and needed to eat. Her hair was limp, her eyes were sunken into her head, and her skin was almost gray. She was starving herself to death right before my eyes.

I opened up the first pudding cup and put a spoon of it near her mouth. I could tell that she was struggling. She didn’t want to eat, but she had to be starving by that point.

“Please, just take a bite. For me. I’m scared for you.”

She met my eyes and finally opened her mouth. I fed her a bite of pudding and then another. Soon the pudding cup was gone and I could tell that she wanted more. I brought the tray over and watched as she devoured almost all of the food like a wild animal. She didn’t even bother with the plastic spoon, she just dug into it with her fingers. The cold green beans, the potatoes, and the stale sandwiches disappeared as I watched.

She was crouched like a creature ready to bolt, eating her food and looking around as if she expected to be caught any second. The pure terror in her eyes sank into my bones.

Finally, she stopped eating and let her body fall against the wall in a slump. She looked at me with a slightly less dead look and said, “Valerie.”

I felt a surge of hope. It seemed a little ridiculous to get so excited about hearing her name, but I was so desperate for companionship, I just allowed my brain to block out the actual circumstances we were in. “Your name is Valerie?” I asked. She nodded. “My name is Lila.”

She gave me a somewhat weak smile. “I know. You told me. A lot.” Her smile grew until it almost reached her eyes, and I realized that she was teasing me. I almost cried.

We sat and talked for hours. At first it was just whispers. I don’t think she wanted to take a chance that he would hear us. That was fine with me. I could pretend that we were having a sleepover and were up way past bedtime.

She told me about her parents and her little sisters, about her church, her school, and her hobbies. She played the cello of all things. Well enough that she had been planning to attend college in the fall on a music scholarship. I could tell that she really loved playing because her eyes lit up when she talked about it. I wished beyond anything that I had an instrument for her to play right then.

As it turned out, that’s how he had taken her. She’d left home to go practice for an event at her church. She’d driven to the empty building, thinking nothing of it. She’d been going to the church since she was a little girl and had often went there by herself as she got older. It was a nice place to practice, and they had given her a key so she could let herself in. It was perfect.

Until that night. He had apparently been watching her, or maybe had just happened upon her trying to get the huge instrument out of her backseat. The last thing she remembered was struggling with the cello case and then she woke up here.

Talking about that made her close up again. I could tell she was getting close to tears so I changed the subject to something completely innocuous. We discussed our favorite movies, and I tried to recall every funny bit from every movie that I could. Soon we were both curled up on the mattress together, falling asleep with smiles on our faces as we lost ourselves in the fantasy world of movies.

We spent the next two days in our own little imaginary world. We talked like old friends, huddled on the bed in the chill of the basement air, whispering like we were just normal girls sharing secrets about our lives.

I told her about my friends and my plans to go off to college in the fall. I was completely lost in the delusion and refused to think about the fact that my life was so completely different. While Valerie was here, I could pretend. We talked about our best friends and the things we did together. She told me about a boy she liked at church. She’d never had a boyfriend because she was too shy to approach him and, besides, she told me her parents wouldn’t have ever let her date anyway. She was so innocent, so small. I just wanted nothing more than to protect her from the world. Most importantly, I knew I had to protect her from him. He would destroy her. I was determined to put myself between them and keep her safe. I kept her distracted with our conversations. I was overly friendly with him whenever he came down so he would leave her alone. I thought that would work. I thought I was helping her.

Valerie seemed to be opening up to me. She started to trust me, telling me of her hopes and dreams. She was the best thing that had happened to me down here.

If only that could have lasted.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

It was about a week since he’d brought Valerie to the cellar. It seemed extra cold that night. I don’t know if that was just my imagination or just a result of what transpired in the pitch black darkness of the room in those midnight hours.

I woke up in the dark, Valerie’s sleeping form curled up next to me under our shared blanket. I was reaching around to find another blanket to put over us when I felt it. There was a chill in the air I felt down to my bones, and then I heard the key scrape in the lock. I froze where I was. Surely he wasn’t coming now. Not when I had finally gotten her out of her shell.

His feet shuffled toward us, and I wrapped my arms around Valerie and held as still as I could. Maybe he would leave us alone if he thought we were asleep. I don’t know why I thought that. Wishful thinking, I suppose.

His hand curled around my shoulder, then my arm, searching for her. He finally realized that she was curled up right next to me, and he grabbed my arm, dragging me from the bed. I could hear his hand searching the wall for the chains that he had bolted there. He pulled my arms up to the chain, and I struggled in near silence, not wanting to wake Valerie. I suppose somewhere in my mind, I thought I could distract him from her and she could just stay asleep. She could be safe.

“Please, take me,” I whispered as he leaned down to secure my cuffs. “Please. Leave her alone.”

When he heard those words, he laughed. It was a soft chuckle at first, and then his laugh grew deeper. Louder and more harsh. It was a terrifying sound filled with cruelty and a complete lack of humanity. I felt his hot breath on my face, “Not a chance, sweetheart.” He pushed me back until I fell against the wall, my heart in my throat, begging in my own mind for God to take him down right then. I hadn’t even begged for my own safety, but I felt an overwhelming need to protect Valerie. She was still innocent. She was still okay.

I heard the rustle of his clothes dropping onto the floor and heard Valerie murmur something in her sleep.

At some point she must have realized what was happening. It was so dark, there was no way she could have seen a thing. I couldn’t imagine how absolutely terrified she must have been. She screamed and fought him. I could hear the struggle, the grunting as he tried to pin her down. There was some sort of inhuman sound breaking from her as she tried to fight him, and then the sound of his hand slapping her or hitting her. She kept screaming, and he hit her again and again until she stopped.

I didn’t want to hear anymore. I pressed myself up against the wall as hard as I could. I put my hands over my ears and found myself humming some out of tune sound that made me feel like I must surely be insane by now. I tried to block out the sounds, but I couldn’t. I still heard him assaulting her. I heard her crying while he did it.

After a while, he got off the bed, and I heard him pull his clothing back on. Valerie was moaning and crying out in pain now, but he ignored her. I felt his hands on me, feeling around for the chains again. He actually unlocked the cuffs around my wrists and let me free. There was nowhere to go, but at least my wrists were free. I stayed still until he turned and left. He walked out of the room, never turning on a light or saying a word. It was almost as if he’d never been there at all.

I crawled back over to the bed and took Valerie into my arms, rocking her back and forth like a mother with her baby. I made soothing sounds, humming lullabies to her until she finally stopped crying and fell asleep.

I slept the rest of the night sitting up, Valerie curled on my lap and sleeping fitfully. Sometimes she would jolt awake, and I felt her body shaking, sounds of abject terror or devastation coming from somewhere deep inside of her. I hoped she would survive this with her mind still intact. I didn’t know how to help her at all. I just sat with my back against the wall, holding her and saying, “It’ll be okay,” over and over and over.

The next morning, I had to go to the bathroom, so I tucked her into bed and left her for just a second. When I came back, she was crouched down in the corner of the room, looking like a feral animal. I helped her into the shower and turned on the water. It wasn’t much, but I knew she’d want to scrub any sign of him off of her. She stayed in the shower for a long time.

She didn’t say a word to me that day. She refused to eat any food and just stayed in bed, curled up in as small of a space as she could. I wasn’t sure I could bring her out of it this time. Things had went too far. I was terrified she wasn’t going to survive this.

I tried to remember what I had been thinking in the beginning. When he’d first brought me here. I couldn’t even remember how I got through it myself. Just trying to think back to it made my soul feel like it would shrivel up and die. Valerie would survive this. She had to. At least she had me. I would be there for her all the way.

The next day, he brought our food and he reached over and ran his hand over her hair. She flinched and cowered away from him in disgust. I was watching his face as she did, and I saw him smile. He enjoyed her discomfort. He reached out and ran his fingers down her arm, something I remembered him doing to me long ago. I knew what was coming. He’d keep tormenting her each day until she finally fought back or did something to anger him, and then he’d beat her.

I held my breath as I watched his hand trail down her arm. I could see the panic in her eyes, her body preparing to run for safety. The frantic look passed over her eyes as she tried to figure out where to run to, and then the despair when she realized she was trapped. She let her head drop in defeat, and he apparently considered that a win because he stepped away from her and turned to me. I was so focused on Valerie and how she was going to react that I wasn’t paying any attention to my own reactions. I flinched when he touched me and I heard him chuckle. It was a jarring sound, causing goosebumps to race over my body. I met his eyes and he tilted his head towards Valerie. I knew what he wanted. He was offering to let me take her place this time.

“Valerie, why don’t you go have a shower?” I said, as calmly as I could. She looked at him and then at me, and she practically ran to the bathroom. I heard the water turn on as soon as she stepped inside, and I knew she was probably in the shower with her hands over her ears. I closed my eyes, shut off my mind, and just went through the motions without feeling or thinking at all. I could handle him. Valerie couldn’t. Not yet. I had to protect her, and I did.

He laughed at me when he was done. He kissed me, something he rarely did, and held onto me with a handful of my hair. His breath was hot on my ear as he whispered, “Gooooood girl,” drawing the word out with his vile, slimy sounding voice. It was all I could do not to tear myself away from his grasp. “I should have gotten you a friend months ago, huh? Now maybe I can truly train you to be a proper wife.” He stuck his tongue out and licked the side of my face, and I gagged. He laughed again and threw me back onto the bed. “I’ll see you again soon. Sleep well.”

I didn’t take another normal breath until I heard his footsteps hit the top step and that door close behind him. Then I let the emotions pour out of me, sobbing not only that it was over, but that I had been able to save Valerie from him this time. I knew that had been his plan, but I hadn’t been ready for the reality of it. I was curled up in a ball on the bed when I felt her sit on the edge.

I sat up, wiping my tears to see that Valerie was looking at me, her eyes searching mine to see if I was okay. I just gave her a small smile, hoping to reassure her. I wasn’t ready to talk yet. The reality of it seemed to feel different yet again. Having another person here just made it all seem even more horrifying than it had been before. It was harder to ignore now, seeing things through her eyes.

“Does it happen all the time?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

I shrugged, pulling myself into a sitting position and tucking my long skirt under my feet. “Not all the time, it just depends.”

“I can’t take it.” Her voice broke. “I can’t stay here. How can you let him do that to you?” I could hear the fear in her voice.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I just got tired of fighting. It doesn’t hurt as much as a beating. I just close my eyes and pretend it isn’t happening.”

“I can’t do that,” she said, her eyes darting to the door as if she’d conjure him up just by mentioning it. “I can’t. We have to get out of here.”

“I’ve tried. I don’t know how.” I was tired. The emotional effects of his assault was just so close to the surface. I wasn’t used to having a conversation right afterwards. I was used to going away in my mind and pushing it all down until I could breathe, until I could pretend again. Valerie’s questions were forcing me to think about it all and my anxiety was ramping up with every question.

“When we do get out of here, do you think our parents will forgive us?” She was looking at me with a look full of such desperate hope, I was really taken aback.

“Forgive us? For what?” I looked at her, honestly curious to hear her answer.

“For… this.” She spread her hands out. “For letting him take us. For being ruined.”

It was all too much. I couldn’t take it. I was too raw, too vulnerable, and I should have stopped this line of questioning. “Ruined? You think your parents will be angry because you’re ruined? What the hell is wrong with them? How could they think that any of this is your fault?” I saw her pull away from me, saw her cowering away from me as if she were scared of me, and it just made me angrier. How could she be scared of me? I protected her!

“But he… did things that we aren’t supposed to do! We’re dirty now! We can’t fix it! What if they don’t want us back? What if they’ve stopped looking?” She was frantic, her emotions so close to the surface, her fears for herself, for her family. Those beliefs she’d had from a young age, it wasn’t something I understood. My parents would love me no matter what. I wasn’t worried about them, but something in her tone, in her words, was really pissing me off. I felt furious. Not even at her, but for her. Unfortunately, my own sense of self control was teetering on the brink of sanity as it was. I could still feel his body on mine from just a short while ago, and I needed to decompress. All of these questions were too much.

My voice got very quiet when I answered her. Maybe she thought I was calm, but, in reality, I was holding on by a very thin thread. Anyone who knew me would know that my calm voice meant I was about to snap. Valerie had no clue. “We are not ruined. We did not choose this. The bad things are all on him.” I pointed to upper floor, where we could hear him moving around. “This was his choice, not ours.”

“But...” She looked at me, and I could tell she was afraid to say anything else, but it was too late for quiet now.

“What? Just say it, Valerie. But what?” I could hear my voice shaking. My entire body was shaking. I was afraid I knew what she was going to say.

“You didn’t fight him this time. You just let him…” She looked at me then, and I saw the judgement in her eyes. I felt the bile rising and burning the back of my throat. I tried to swallow, but there was a lump in my throat. Tears started to fill my eyes and I blinked them away, feeling furious, feeling devastated. I had tried to save her the pain, and she thought I was just giving myself away for no reason.

I snapped and yelled at her. I saw her shrink away from me and I didn’t care. “What do you want me to do, Valerie? Should I have let him take you again instead? Because that was the choice, Valerie! Is that what you wanted? Maybe you want to fight him again so he’ll kill you. It that your plan?” My rage was burning out while I watched the fear build in her eyes as she tried to get further away from me. I felt sick, so deeply hurt that I could barely choke out the words. “Maybe you just want to die because you’re too much of a coward to stay and fight.” I felt defeated, and my last words were a whisper I’m pretty sure she didn’t even hear. “Or maybe you just want to die and leave me here alone so you don’t have to deal with it at all.” I felt the tears flowing then, running down my face and dripping from my chin. I didn’t do anything to stem the flow, didn’t brush them away or wipe my eyes. I just didn’t care.

Valerie was in the corner of the room again, crying. I didn’t have the energy to care. Not right now. I got up and grabbed some clean clothes. I had to have a shower. I needed the smell and the feel of him off of me. Hell, I needed to wash Valerie’s words out of my head and my spirit. Her words had crushed me. I couldn’t have even told you why, but I felt completely devastated, like she had just purposefully tried to destroy me. I couldn’t take it.

I stood in the shower for a long time, letting the cold water wash my tears away and mask the sound of my sobbing. I stood with my head leaning against the shower wall, begging someone, anyone to find me, to find us, and to get us out of here. It was too much. I wasn’t sure how long I could take it.

When I got out of the shower, I went back to find Valerie sitting on the bed. She looked up at me and I saw that she was going to say something. I wasn’t ready to deal with more conversation. I didn’t even care if she was going to apologize or say something positive. I just couldn’t deal with another word. I held up my hand. “Please, no more talking. Just tonight. Let’s go to bed and we can talk tomorrow.”

“But I,” she started, leaning forward.

“No!” I was adamant. “I don’t want to hear it. We can talk tomorrow, and I don’t want to hear anything until then.”

“Okay.” She lay down on the bed, facing the wall, and held herself still. I crawled into bed next to her and closed my eyes against all of the things that weren’t being said. Something had shifted between us, and I was pretty sure he was going to be happy about this new set of circumstances. We would have to talk tomorrow and get over this, or he would just continue to pit us against each other. I couldn’t deal with that. I wanted us both to get out of this alive, and, hopefully, have at least a little bit of sanity left.

I pulled the blanket around myself and wished with everything I had that I would sleep soundly, with no nightmares and no dreams. I just wanted sleep. I didn’t want to dream about what could be and wake up disappointed. I didn’t want to find myself awakened by the nightmares that were my reality. I just wanted the mind numbing blankness of sleep. I ignored Valerie’s rigid form next to me and tried to go to sleep.

After just a short time, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Valerie?” I whispered. There was no answer, but I felt her tense up. “Valerie, please forgive me. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I was just feeling so raw and I got offended.”

There was silence for a minute, and then I heard her sniffling.

“Are we okay? Please don’t stay mad at me. You’re all I have.” I held my breath, waiting for her to say something. I was still hurt, but, more than anything, I was terrified of losing the only friend I had in here.

She sniffled again and said, “I’m sorry, too. I was being horrible to you, and you’re not even my sister.”

I almost laughed. “Well, I always wanted a sister. Is this how sisters act?”

She almost laughed then. “I guess so. I mean, nobody can make me madder than my own sisters, but I love them more than anything in the world.” I heard her voice catch, and I knew that thinking about her sisters was bringing back all of the worry, stress, and guilt.

“Hey.” I rolled towards her, spooning myself against her back. “It’s okay. You’ll get to see them again. You will. I promise we’ll get out of here. We can do it together.” I wasn’t sure if that was at all true, but I had to give her some hope. Who knew? Maybe between the two of us, we could escape. Two against one had to be better than nothing, right?

“But they’ll hate me. They’ll be so disgusted with me.” I could hear her heart breaking through her words, delicate and shattered. “Sex before marriage is a sin, and I always promised to wait.”

I didn’t know how to get through to her. I knew it wasn’t the healthiest thing to suggest, but I thought it might give her some comfort until we could at least get out of here. I knew by now that trying to reassure her that her parents would love her no matter what was absolutely futile, so I tried another tack for now. “Listen, Valerie. Nobody needs to know what happened here. We’ll get help, we can talk to each other. I’ll always be there for you. If your family is going to turn you away because of this, then they don’t deserve you, but if you want, we can keep it a secret between us. You don’t have to tell them everything that happened.”
Even saying those words made me feel ill. I could not imagine worrying about my parents hating me for something like this. I hugged her tight against me and hoped I was giving her some sort of comfort. I could tell that she was still crying, but she was trying to be quiet about it, so I didn’t say anything else.

I held her in my arms, feeling so grateful for my own parents. I knew that when I got out, they would still love me and accept me. I had no doubts about that. Don’t get me wrong, I was still really concerned that they would never understand and that I would never be the same as I was. I was terrified to try to fit back into my old life, but I knew without a shadow of a doubt that my mom would embrace me and listen to anything I wanted to tell her. She would support me and help me through it all. I whispered to her in my thoughts, Mom, I miss you so much. Thank you for always being such a good mom to me. I could picture her so clearly, lying in her bed with her book, reading glasses perched on her nose. I smiled in the dark. I love you, Mom. Please don’t give up. Please find me.

I fell asleep with the presence of my mother weighing heavily in my mind.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The next days flew by. He came down and brought us meals in the mornings, but then he left us alone. I was really surprised he wasn’t paying more attention to us. I had been certain he would be tormenting us together, playing sick mind games with us like he’d done already. I’d seen the glint of evil in his eye one too many times to think he really just brought someone down here so that I wouldn’t be lonely.

I could never quite figure out his schedule. Did he have some sort of job? Were we actually alone in this place for hours a day? Valerie and I talked and tried to sort it out. Obviously, figuring that out would give us a lot more of a chance of escaping without getting caught.

We both listened everytime he went upstairs.

It was on day 111 when I heard it. I was absolutely certain I heard other, lighter, footsteps mixed in with his heavier tread, but Valerie wasn’t so sure. It wasn’t until we heard them talking through the floorboards that she finally agreed with me.

There was a woman’s voice; it was too quiet to make out any words, but it was definitely a woman’s voice. We rarely ever heard her say anything, but the times when we did, it gave us a little hope. If there was a woman up there, and if he did leave for work at some points, maybe we could get her to help us. Did he have someone visiting him? We just had to wait for him to leave, and then we would scream until she heard us.

I had never paid so much attention to the sounds around me before. I think I’d spent most of the first few months disappearing into my own mind. Now, I wondered if I’d missed opportunities to escape before this. The adrenaline was pumping through my veins every time a new sound appeared. After a couple of days, we noticed there was the sound of a truck starting up and leaving most mornings, right after we got our food. It was faint but, because we were so focused, we heard it.

After a few days of this pattern, we decided to try to get the attention of the woman upstairs. If she was only visiting, we might only have one or two tries to get her attention. The next morning, we were ready, pumped and on edge. As soon as the truck pulled away, we waited for a good while just to make sure it was gone, and then we screamed until our heads felt like bursting.

We yelled and then we’d wait, hoping to hear footsteps above, or any kind of movement. There was nothing. Not even the faint scrape of a shoe on the floor above. It was devastating. The woman must be leaving with him when he went each day. Still, we held out a tiny bit of hope that she would stay home one day. We repeated the process for the next two days and still nothing.

The following day, we strained our ears, listening for the truck to leave, but, instead, he came back downstairs after giving us our food.

As soon as he opened the door, I knew what he wanted. It wasn’t going to be good. His eyes had that look in them; the crazy, heated look. He came in, locked the door behind him, and turned to look us over. I felt like I was on display and tried to cover myself. He just laughed. Then I saw his eyes flick over to Valerie. She was visibly shaking as his gaze slowly devoured her. Her eyes flew to mine, begging me for help. I stepped closer to her and tried to draw his attention, but it did no good. He wasn’t interested in me. He stepped towards her and grabbed her hair, pulling her close to his face. I could almost smell his breath as the memories washed over me, my body shuddering, my mind racing to think of a way to help without getting myself killed.

“Your turn, slut,” he said, his eyes boring into hers. I saw her flinch and cower with the word ‘slut’ and knew that he had found her weak spot. He’d use it against her as much as he could to destroy her.

He leaned in to kiss her, and she rebelled. She fought and reached up to slap him, but he caught her hand in his vise like grip. She screamed and he just smiled. I reached over and caught his other hand as he raised it to hit her. I knew I was being a fool, but I couldn’t just sit there and watch.

He let her hair go, practically throwing her back on the bed. He turned and hit me so hard that I fell against the wall, the impact sending shockwaves of pain through my head. The last thing I heard was Valerie screaming with an agony that reached so deeply in my body, I felt as if I would never be able to be free of the pain of that sound for as long as I lived. I tried to reach out, to help her, but the pain of my own injuries overwhelmed me as everything went black.

I woke up shivering; the cold of the cement floor reaching to the very core of me. There was a low keening kind of sound resonating in my head that I didn’t recognize. It sounded very much like an animal caught in a trap. I sat up slowly, my head aching from where I’d hit the wall. The bright afternoon sun was at odds with the dark, heavy feeling in the room. I pushed myself away from the wall, trying to stand on legs that felt as shaky as a newborn colt. I could still hear the sound, my eyes searching for Valerie.

There wasn’t much in the room, but I didn’t see her at first. She was crouched down under the table in the corner of the room. She had a blanket around her, but her body was visibly shivering from the cold. I ran to her and tried to pull her out from under the table. She screamed, her eyes unseeing, her body scrambling away, her hands lashing out at me.

“Valerie! It’s me!” My voice was shaking. I had never seen anyone in this kind of state. Her face was bruised and bloody. She’d obviously fought him and lost. I didn’t know how to deal with the absolute terror coming off of her in waves. “Valerie?” I tried to soften my voice, but she wasn’t hearing me. She wasn’t seeing me; she was only seeing him. I stepped back and just kept trying to say soothing things. She didn’t appear to hear me at all. She just rocked back and forth, her shaking hands holding the blanket around her as she stayed as far back under the table as she could. The sound of pure anguish coming from her gutted me. I felt tears sliding down my face before I even realized I was crying.

I went to get our food and some water, hoping to draw her out, but it was no use. I tried for at least an hour and finally just left a bottle of water in her reach. I would have left food, but I was terrified that rats would find their way back in and bother her to get it. I told her I would save food for her, but I don’t think it really registered.

The sun sank in the sky, throwing shadows across the cellar. I hadn’t really noticed for a long time, but the shadows seemed particularly ominous as they crept across the room that evening. I felt a shudder pass through me like a ghost had just walked past. I tried to get close to Valerie again, I really didn’t want to leave her crouched under the table when it was dark. She wasn’t making any sounds anymore, but as soon as I touched her hand, she screamed again, causing me to fall over backwards. I sat on the cold floor, crying for her pain, trying to figure out what to do. The icy chill traveling up my spine finally compelled me to get on the bed. I sat near the end, closest to her, and kept talking to her in what I hoped was a calm, soothing voice. I tried talking about escape, about seeing her family again, but every time I mentioned that, she would start making those heartbreaking sounds again. I switched topics, talking only about fantasy life, movies, books, and stories. I told her stories from my own childhood, my own life, careful not to mention parents or getting in trouble. She quieted down to listen, but she still wouldn’t come out. I fell asleep that night in the middle of a story, when I couldn’t keep my eyes open another minute.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The next morning, I woke with a raging headache and a sense of confusion. I had already gotten used to having Valerie in the same bed with me, but her side of the bed was cold. I jolted upright as I remembered the day before.

Valerie was still sitting under the table. She wasn’t moving, just staring at nothing, the blanket still held tight in her grip.

“Valerie?” I came around the end of the bed and crouched down in front of her. “Can I help you out from under there?” I noticed that the bottle of water I had left for her was unopened. I reached for it and she flinched. “It’s okay, I’m just going to give you some water, okay?” I kept my movements slow and steady, opening the bottle and lifting it to her lips. It didn’t even touch her before she smacked it out of my hands.

I watched as the water spilled out of the bottle as it rolled across the floor. I didn’t know what to do, so I just sat there across from her, piling blankets underneath me to stave off the chill. I couldn’t fathom how she was just sitting there with one thin layer of blankets between her and the cold. She had to be freezing.

I sat there until I heard the key turning in the lock, and then I jumped up. The pain jolted in my head, and I nearly fell over from it, but I held myself steady against the wall.

He stepped through the door with the food and looked at me with a self satisfied look that just enraged me.

“What did you do to her?” I screamed at him. “Look at what you did!” I pointed to her, huddling under the table, and caught his eye. He just looked at me with a sly grin and shrugged, like it didn’t matter to him at all. Obviously, it didn’t; he was pure evil. He walked over to set the tray down. The sounds started coming from her again, that keening, wailing sound as he came closer. He dropped the tray with a bang and she jumped. I held my breath, terrified he was going to push her further and break her completely.

It was almost as if he could read my mind because he turned and looked at me just then. His smile was the creepiest thing I had ever seen as she cried out beneath him, he just raised an eyebrow at me in question. Like he was asking if he should do something more.

“Please, no,” I whispered. I wasn’t sure if my words would make it worse or better, but I had to plead for her. “Please leave her be. You’re going to kill her. Please.” I looked into his eyes for any glimpse of humanity and found none. He reached under the table and grabbed her arm, pulling her to him. She fought like a woman possessed, clawing and scratching at him, screaming like the hounds of hell had latched onto her.

I screamed at him, to no avail, as he dragged her out and pulled her to him by her hair. He got right in her face and stared at her, an almost feverish look in his eye. He was enjoying her pain, loved the fact that she was fighting him. He smiled and threw her onto the bed. “Don’t worry, slut. I don’t want your filthy, disgusting self right now. You need a shower.” He ripped the blanket away from her and laughed as she cowered on the bed, trying to cover her nakedness. He leaned down over her, whispering, “You are a whore. No one will ever want you again. You are mine and you will never ever leave me.” He threw the blanket back over her and turned to leave the room. He smiled at me as he walked by. “Get her cleaned up; she’s disgusting.”

I was so furious that I didn’t even hear the door shut behind me. I didn’t count his steps on the stairs. All I could think of was trying to save Valerie. As I looked at her on the bed, I knew it would be a nearly impossible task. I grabbed some clothes and sat down next to her.

“Valerie? Honey?” I held up the clothes in front of her, but I don’t think she even saw them. “Do you want to put some clothes on, or would you like a shower first?” She didn’t answer, so I just sat there, quietly waiting for her to speak or to give me any kind of clue as to what I should do.

My stomach was rebelling and I had to eat something. The stress of everything had killed my appetite, but my body still needed fuel. I sat right next to Valerie and ate, offering her bites of everything I had. She refused to even open her mouth. I drank a bottle of water, again offering her some, but she was like a statue, incapable of movement.

I finally went to have a shower, pleading with my mom in my mind for help. I didn’t believe in prayer, but I was absolutely convinced that if my mom were here, she would know what to do. I had gotten into the habit of talking to her often, even hearing her voice in my head with words of comfort. This time her voice was silent. I supposed even my mother would be at a loss in a situation such as this. I stepped out of the shower, got dressed, and went back to the bed.

Valerie hadn’t moved an inch, not even to cover herself. I tucked the blankets around her and hoped it was a good sign that she didn’t fight me on it.

I grabbed a book and curled up next to her in the bed. Her body felt like ice, so I wrapped myself around her, hoping to keep her warm. She didn’t move, but she also didn’t try to push me away, so I just stayed close to her, hoping I was helping in even some small way.

She didn’t move that entire day, until it started getting dark. I felt her moving and fidgeting in her sleep. I was afraid she was having nightmares, so I shook her gently, trying to comfort her.

She jerked upright, a scream dying on her lips as she woke up. She was immediately shivering, so I grabbed the clothes I’d brought earlier and thrust them into her lap. She pulled the dress over her head with stilted movements and then tried to stand. Her legs were shaking so much that she actually reached out to me. I grabbed her by the arms, and she cried out. I realized that she had bruises on her arms, her wrists, everywhere. I let her hold onto me and walked her to the bathroom. I gave her as much privacy as I could, but I didn’t go far. I was too afraid she’d pass out.

When she was done, we went back over to the bed. I tried to get her to drink some water or eat, but she just turned away from me and curled back into a ball. Her breathing became slow and steady, and I realized that she was sleeping. Since I knew she needed rest just as much as she needed food, I wasn’t going to worry about it too much. At least she had gotten up and moved on her own.

I spent the hours until I fell asleep trying to convince myself that she would be fine, and yet my dreams were filled with death and hopelessness.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Valerie didn’t eat the next day, or the day after that. I had stopped paying attention to the voices upstairs, stopped worrying about him coming to hurt us again. I wondered if he would avoid us both for the last week of the month like he had avoided coming to see me, or if he would just ignore me and use her instead while he thought I was bleeding and ‘dirty.’

She hadn’t eaten in four days when he brought down another tray of food. I scrambled to my feet. “Please help her.” I could hear the pleading tone in my voice. He looked at me, not used to me talking to him at all. I saw his glance flit to the bed behind me, but his expression didn’t change. “Please. She hasn’t eaten in days; she’s going to die.” I couldn’t help myself, I started to cry. “She’s going to DIE!”

He pushed past me and walked to the bed. As he sat down next to her, I hoped I hadn’t just made things worse. He put his hand to her head, brushing back her hair. She didn’t even flinch at his touch. My heart dropped to the floor. She was really far gone if his touch didn’t cause her to move.

He pulled her to a sitting position and held some food up to her mouth. I saw him trying to force her mouth open, but her jaw was clamped down hard. He was squeezing her jaw hard enough to cause pain, but she didn’t make a sound. He growled in frustration and threw her back on the bed, lifting her dress as he grabbed her legs. Then she fought back. She tried to scream, tried to kick him, but she was too weak. He tossed her to the side and pushed food into her mouth, choking her screams in an instant. He held his hand over her mouth, forcing her to swallow. The threat was unmistakable, she had to eat or he would abuse her again. She ate a few bites, tears streaming down her face.

He got up and gave me a smirk that said he had won. He pushed past me and left the room. Valerie stopped eating the second he left, rolled over and went completely still again. I knew that it wouldn’t be long before she was dead if something didn’t change.

I felt a deep, driving need to get her out of here. I had to help her escape, even if I was still here. I couldn’t watch her die. I curled up around her on the bed and started talking about an escape plan. I was being completely unrealistic, but I didn’t care. My heart was breaking as I watched her wasting away. I couldn’t bear to lose the one friend I was allowed to have, but more than that, I didn’t want her to be trapped here anymore. She wasn’t strong enough to survive it. Some part of me knew that if I didn’t get her out of here, now, she was going to die. I sat with my back against the wall and pulled her limp form into my lap. I was holding her like an infant, alternately humming lullabies and telling her stories of escape. My mind was racing, skipping over thoughts and plans. All I could think of was getting her out of here. I knew that was the only way she could survive.

I offered her food every time I felt her stir, but she refused. She spent most of the time sleeping and, still, I held her. I told her stories about all the things we would do when we escaped. I told her that my friends and I would take her to the mall and we’d get makeovers and go to the movies. As the day wore on, I knew none of those stories were ever coming true, but I kept telling them. My own emotions clouded the stories, my voice choked up as I remembered the carefree life I’d had before. The stupid things I had complained about before all this. I wondered if I would ever get the chance to complain about those things again. Or if I even would gripe about them if I could. I couldn’t imagine caring about a phone bill or gossip after all of this.

Still, I kept up a steady stream of chatter as long as I could. I didn’t realize that I had fallen asleep until I felt her body heaving on my lap. She was getting sick, retching and gagging. I helped her roll over as she vomited up the small amount of food she’d been forced to eat. Her body wracked with the effort as she vomited up bile from her empty stomach. She didn’t make a sound as her body tried to force everything from her, not a groan or a cry, nothing.

She finally stopped heaving and went limp in my arms. I was so terrified for her, for myself. I had a bone deep feeling of dread stealing over me as I held her tight against me. I could feel the tears streaking down my face, but I didn’t dare let her go for even a second to wipe them away. I was holding her so tightly that the muscles in my arms started to cramp up. I refused to let her go for anything. I whispered comforting words to her as I drifted off in complete exhaustion, but she still didn’t move, didn’t respond at all.

I woke up and it was pitch black in the room. Not even a sliver of light shone through the small windows above us. My body was shivering so hard that it had yanked me from my sleep. I reached for more blankets, trying to pull them around myself and tuck them around Valerie, who was still curled up on my lap. As I tucked the blankets, I realized that her skin felt like cool marble. It was cold to the touch, unmoving, frozen. I rubbed my hands up and down her arms, trying to bring the blood flow back to warm her up. My teeth were chattering as my body continued to shiver, trying to create heat that we so desperately needed.

Valerie wasn’t moving. I ignored the signs and continued to rub her arms, talking to her in frantic whispers, “It’s okay to wake up, Valerie. He’s gone. Please wake up for me, please!” My voice took on a panicked tone, my pitch rising higher and higher as I tried to keep my voice down. I didn’t want him coming down to scare her again. “Valerie, please wake up, come on. Please. I’ll take you away from here.” I made promises that I couldn’t possibly keep. Anything to get her to talk to me, anything to feel her move against me. “Valerie, your mom is here to pick you up! She’s so happy to see you!” I pictured her mother and tears sprang from my eyes. I choked back a sob, my voice growing louder. “Honey, please wake up, your mom needs you now. Please, your family wants to see you!” I tried to shake her, but her body was rigid, unmoving. I ran my fingers through her hair, combing it back from her face. I held my hand over her mouth to feel her breathing, but there was nothing but the still, cold air of the cellar.

I put my hand over her heart, refusing to believe what I was seeing. There was nothing. Not breathing, not a heartbeat, nothing. I hugged her body to me, the cold of her death seeping through me, making me wonder if she would take me along with her. I was weeping for the loss of my friend, crying out for her grief, for her family.

I was still holding her when the sun started to peek through the windows. I watched as my now silent tears dripped from my face onto her blue-tinged skin. I watched my own grief spill onto her, and it didn’t even matter because she couldn’t feel anything anymore. My heart ached selfishly, wanting her to stay with me, even though I knew he had done this, I wanted her back with me. I didn’t want to be alone. The grief spilled into rage at the unfairness of it all. I had survived for nearly four months, and she couldn’t even stay with me for one. I didn’t even know where to put my feelings and emotions, wracked with anger, followed straight away by guilt. I was being crushed by a sadness that I couldn’t even put words to as I held her corpse in my arms. It was like a nightmare come true and my brain couldn’t wrap itself around these circumstances.

I had never had someone close to me die before. My grandparents had all died when I was young. My parents were older when they had me, so I had the benefit of stable older parents, but that meant no grandparents to speak of. I hadn’t lost any friends or other family members and, honestly, couldn’t even remember attending a funeral. I had lived a sheltered, lucky existence until now, and I wasn’t quite sure how I was supposed to deal with this.

I was still holding Valerie’s body, still begging her to wake up when he came downstairs. I heard the key turning in the lock, but I didn’t even look up. I couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes. I just held her, wishing I had the power to put a shield around us. I didn’t want him to touch her again. It was his fault she was dead.

He walked over to the bed, still holding the tray of food for the day. He didn’t say anything at first. It was obvious she was gone, her head tilted back, resting on my arm, her mouth open slightly. Her chest wasn’t moving and her skin was gray. There was no life to see in her, no mistaking that she was gone. He stood there, tray in hand for a moment, and neither of us said a word. I didn’t even move.

He set the tray down on the table and reached for her. I clung to her and lashed out at him with my words. “You killed her!” I practically spat the words at him, all of the emotions coming through my voice. “You KILLED her! She’s dead! She’s gone because of you!” I found that I was having a hard time even mustering up the energy to yell at him. There was too much devastation, too much despair pressing down on me, squeezing my lungs until I felt like I didn’t have even a single breath left.

I felt everything in me still as he pulled her out of my arms. I watched as he took her unmoving body and turned away from me without a word, without even a backwards glance at me.

I closed my eyes and let the grief pour out of me. I didn’t hear the door close behind him. I didn’t hear anything at all. I just lay down in the bed and cried until I had no tears left. I stared at the wall, unmoving, remembering her and memorizing everything I could about her. When I escaped from this hell, I was going to find her family and tell them everything good that I could remember. Part of that thought was battling with the feeling that it was their fault, too. She died because she knew they would judge her. My emotions were at war with each other, not knowing just where to point my fury or my grief. I had nowhere to turn, no one to talk to.

And now, I had no friend, either. She was gone. I opened my mouth and screamed at the wall. I just screamed incoherent thoughts, and unintelligible words streamed forth from my mouth as if I was speaking a language that wasn’t quite human. I screamed until my voice gave out, and then I just cried some more. Horrible, broken cries that spilled out of me as if they had a mind of their own. I didn’t even feel like it was coming from me anymore. It was as if I was watching someone else.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

He had changed after she died. I don’t know what he did with her body, but he took her away and brought me a box of cleaning supplies without saying anything to me. I didn’t want to move, didn’t want to let him think I cared, but it nagged at me. I had this deep urge to make things right somehow. To make things clean. Maybe part of me wanted to forget that Valerie had ever been here.

I cleaned up the room until it was as clean as a basement could be, until there was no trace that Valerie had even been here at all.

He stopped touching me, stopped the assaults completely, and barely said even a word to me. Since she died, it was like he acted almost nice. Like he suddenly cared about me or was starting to think of me as a person. I was apparently far too desperate to feel anything human again, and so I just took it all in. My brain craved the normalcy so much that it just shifted everything around until I could actually believe it, that my life was okay again. It just gave my mood swings yet another place to land.

My emotions just seemed to become more volatile at that point. I went from total devastated grief to pure rage at him, at my circumstances. I would go from feeling like I was going to beat him, escape, and have a life, to feeling like everything was hopeless and I would never be free. Sometimes, I wished that I could just give up and die; sometimes, I was overwhelmed with sadness for my family.

The most terrifying times came when I realized I was making excuses for myself. Making it seem as if this life was tolerable. That I could give up; that I could be content living this way.

He didn’t seem to care what I was feeling at any point and time. He was pretty much ignoring me completely, other than to bring me food and books to read. I was on a downward spiral, even the ‘ups’ seemed to be getting lower and lower. I didn’t eat much of anything in the days after she died. I couldn’t find the energy to care enough. I didn’t even give a shit if the rats came and ate the foot just inches from my head. I didn’t care at all. I drifted off most nights, my stomach grumbling in hunger. I wondered if this was how Valerie had felt when she first decided not to eat. I wondered how long it would take for me to die. I slept on and off all day, every day, the deep chill in my bones never going away, no matter how tightly I wound myself up in the blankets. It was my soul that was cold, and nothing was going to touch that.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

At some point, things shifted inside of me. Part of me wanted nothing more than to give up, but there was a part of me that was feeding a tiny flickering spark of hope. I tried to stay in bed with my eyes shut, but my body wasn’t cooperating. I went to the bathroom and splashed water on my face, trying to rinse away even a bit of the grief that I felt staining my eyes. I hovered over the sink, the vision of Valerie’s gray skin still vivid in my mind’s eye. I held onto the sink and felt a sob rising from deep within me. I splashed cold water on my face and tried to think of something else. Anything else. I couldn’t lose myself to grief.

When I thought about Valerie’s family, how they would feel when they found out she was dead, I just couldn’t handle it. It made me think of my own family, and I knew I couldn’t do that to them. I couldn’t leave them wondering about me, how I’d died or even if I’d died. I was determined I would survive whatever happened to me here. I would get out and get back to my family, back to my life.

That reminded me of the letter he had promised to send to my mother. I wondered if she ever got it, or if he’d been lying just to manipulate me. I shook my head. I had to believe that he’d sent it. Besides, that was the same time that I’d started hearing her voice. I knew that my mom was talking to me because of that letter. That piece of paper was the tie that we needed, and that was how she was able to speak to me. I knew that train of thought sounded crazy, but I didn’t care. It was no more crazy than the fact that I was trapped here in a basement by a madman who was keeping me as his sex slave for god knew how long. I needed to believe that my mom could hear me when I spoke to her, so that’s what I did.

I stood in the bathroom with my mom on my mind and I cried out to her, “Mom, please help me. Valerie is gone and I’m so scared. Please, I’m so alone I don’t know what to do.” My words ended in a whisper, “Help me, please. Mom, I need you.”
I stood as if I was frozen in place, searching my mind for that feeling, the presence of my mother coming to comfort me. I didn’t feel it at first. All I could feel was the cold of the cement floor as it soaked any remnants of body heat from my ice cold feet. The cold just reminded me of Valerie’s body on mine, and I practically ran back to the bed. I bundled myself up and sat, waiting to hear my mother’s voice again.

I started to drift off from exhaustion and not eating when I heard her. “Lila, honey. Be strong. We’re here waiting for you. I miss you and I love you. Please hold on, baby. We’re looking for you. Please just stay strong for a little while longer.” I fell into an exhausted sleep and didn’t wake up until I heard the key in the lock.

The hinges creaked as the door opened, and I saw a box sliding into the room. I didn’t even move from the bed at first. I wanted to just roll over and forget that the world even existed. That I existed. My mother’s voice echoed in my mind. “Please stay strong.” I could hear it as clearly as if she was standing beside me.

My eyes were finally dry as I pushed myself up. I looked beside me and the food was still there on the tray, where I’d left it the day before. The bread was hard as a rock, the vegetables sitting in a hardened lump. I turned away and got up to see what was in the box.

I was reminded that it must be the last week of the month. I went back and scratched another mark on the wall. It was only day 140, maybe 145 or somewhere around there. I wasn’t completely sure that I had remembered to make a mark every day since he’d brought Valerie down here. I counted down, she’d only been here for three weeks? Surely that wasn’t right. I wracked my brain, trying to put days together, but everything was a blur. The fact that I might have missed marking off the days made me far more upset than it probably should have. I banged my fists on the wall, feeling like I was losing track of everything. I still felt that driving need to mark the days, and I had already messed it up. I gave myself a few days and scratched a few extra marks. Maybe it had been three weeks since she had come to stay with me. I took some time and scratched her name into the wall by the marks. “I won’t forget you,” I whispered to her name as I ran my fingers over the letters.

I found myself counting the lines over and over, trying to make sense of it. The box sat inside the door, completely forgotten as I got lost inside my head for some amount of time. I was counting and arranging the days in my head, over and over. I thought it had to be near the end of May, but it was really hard to even guess the seasons in this always cold, damp, dim basement. I couldn’t even see enough of the outdoors to get a clue. I thought back to the night I’d been brought here.

That night at the mall, at least five months ago. My friends and I were doing our after Christmas shopping. We always hit the mall on New Year’s Day, after spending the night at one of our houses. We would stay up watching movies, sometimes sneaking a little bit of champagne or wine for the countdown at the end of the night. It was never anything too horrible, just a bottle of alcohol between the six of us. It was barely enough to make us feel tipsy. I think our parents even knew about it, but they didn’t really mind either. It’s not like we did it often.

We had spent the first day of the year together shopping and buying things on clearance, leftovers from Christmas. I always stocked up on makeup for the year on that shopping trip. It was the one time of year I felt like I could splurge and get the ‘good stuff,’ which would last nearly all year at a fraction of the price. We had money, but makeup could add up fast, even on my budget. My mind flicked back on the lipstick I had stolen. I was so good about so many things, but that stupid little tube of lipstick had been too tempting. I hadn’t even thought much about it, just a tiny little thought that I could get away with it, so I did it. My friends occasionally stole things, too. Never anything big and not very often.

It’s not like any of us needed to steal, and, now, I wondered why we did it. We were all good students, and we all had parents that made sure we had what we needed. We treated people well, we were friendly and didn’t even sneak out to party, but there was that little side in each of us that found shoplifting to be a thrill. I knew without a doubt that if I ever got out of here, I would never do it again. Hell, I would never even let someone give me too much change back. I swore on my life that I would never take anything that didn’t belong to me again.

I finally dragged myself out of my reverie. My stomach was screaming at me to eat something. I actually felt like I hadn’t eaten in days, and I was suddenly ravenous. It felt like I needed to eat or I was going to be sick. I couldn’t really even remember the last time I’d eaten a full meal. I went to the box and tore it open. The usual bags of chips, crackers, cereal, and a loaf of bread. I pulled out a jar of peanut butter and immediately opened it, digging in with my fingers and just eating the peanut butter plain. My stomach started to ease a bit once I had eaten a bit. I dragged the box over to the bed and pulled out all the food.

Underneath there were new things. Books, sweaters, and, at the bottom, there was a box of colored pens and a notebook. I just sat and stared at it for a while. He’d brought me something to write with?

I didn’t quite know what to do with that. I felt some sense of excitement welling up in me over the thought of being able to write again. I grabbed the notebook and the pens and sat on the bed, my hands shaking with the anticipation of being able to put my thoughts down on paper.

I had no illusions that he would send out anymore letters for me, or if he’d even done it the first time he’d said he would. Regardless, for some reason it felt like I was actually talking to someone as I opened to the first lined page and started writing.

The very first thing I did was to write down everything I could about Valerie. I wanted to make sure she wasn’t forgotten altogether. It’s not like there was anything I could do about it, or even any way that I could guarantee that someone would see it, but it felt important to mark her life this way. I wrote down the things she’d told me about her family, about her mom. I filled three pages talking about her and the stories she had told me. Then I carefully removed those pages from the notebook and folded them up neatly. I tucked them through a tear in the seam of my mattress. I don’t know what I was thinking, other than feeling like I needed to hide those pages. I needed to keep her story safe from him. It was probably a stupid thought, but I don’t begin to claim that my mind was working properly through all of this.

I loved having the pens and paper. It was something I hadn’t even realized I had been missing until I started writing and drawing again. It didn’t even occur to me that the pens could be used as weapons; I was just SO happy to have a way to write again, to draw and to create. I guess my mind still wasn’t quite right. It hadn’t been, since that night Valerie had died.

The next day, he brought me some cheap looking shelves, a box of paperbacks, and a box of actual normal clothes instead of the old grandma style clothes that smelled of mothballs and dust. There was some girly looking bedding and even a furry pink pillow, which looked like something a typical teen girl would have. I didn’t quite know what to think about that, but I have to admit, I felt a tiny touch of normalcy just having these things around me.

Everything smelled like outside, like people normally smell. I actually got excited at first. I buried my face in the clothes and imagined I was at the mall in one of those bath & body type stores, where everything smells so amazing.

I made my bed and put the books on the shelves, and then I lay down in my clean bed and read for hours, drawing things in my notebook, feeling like I was almost a normal person again. I think that was one of those times when I started trying to convince myself that some part of this life was normal or tolerable. Acceptable, even.

He even started bringing me better food. Still mostly canned food and shit like that, but it was better than the stale peanut butter sandwiches and canned beans he had given me before.

I was starting to feel so comfortable that I didn’t even think of myself as a prisoner. My brain still kept me shielded from the fact that I was trapped here. I didn’t think about the fact that I couldn’t leave. It’s like he was trying to make me forget, and my brain deceived me and played along with the lies. I didn’t cringe every time I heard the tread of his boots on the stairs. I didn’t want to curl into a ball and hide from him when he opened the door. I had started saying ‘thank you’ when he brought me food. I had grown totally complacent and I just blocked out anything unpleasant from my mind.

I don’t know if that was his plan or not, but on this day, Day 153, all of that changed again.

He came down to my room while I was reading. I thought maybe he had more things for my room, and I sat on my bed waiting anxiously.

He had nothing with him, but he came and sat beside me on the bed. So close that he was almost touching me. I could smell him, the scent of him filling my nostrils, leaving the taste of bile at the back of my throat.

A slow anxiety filled me, my mind rebelling, wanting to believe that things were different. I felt the prickle of unease starting a trail of goosebumps down my arms, the liquid weight of dread pooling in my feet, filling up my legs and rising higher and higher until it hit my neck. I tried to swallow past the lump in my throat, but I couldn’t. I felt the panic rising as he reached around my shoulders and ran his hand down my arm.

I looked at my hands, clenched tightly in my lap, and stared at the whiteness taking over the flesh color of my skin as I squeezed my hands together harder and harder. My breathing was shallow as I tried to ignore his touch. He pushed my hair back from my neck, and I shuddered with revulsion. I felt paralyzed from the fear, my brain screaming at me to move, to run, to do anything, but I couldn’t seem to move.

“I missed you,” he whispered into my ear.

The bile rose in my throat. My vision was going dark. His hands were on me, and, once again, I was floating up, up, and away.

My break from the reality of my life was over. I hovered, watching until it was safe again. The door closed behind him, and I flew back down to the bed, where I wrapped myself in the blanket and slept away the memories, only waking again when it was safe to pretend that things weren’t what they seemed. That I was safely ensconced in my own room where I could read and draw and be a normal person again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Day 173. Things became routine again. I was no longer safe from his advances, his assaults, any longer. I had gained the ability to escape into my mind when it happened now. Sometimes, I had that floating feeling where I felt as if I left my body. Other times, I just went deep inside, to my happy place in my mind. The rest of the time, when I was alone, I could at least pretend things were better, or even normal again.

I became so desperately lonely, even worse than before. I think maybe I had become accustomed to it before, but ever since Valerie had been there with me, I craved the presence of another human who I could talk to. I started writing letters in my notebooks, just to imagine that I could talk to my family again.

I wrote letters to my dad asking him how he was doing with his gardening. I couldn’t quite remember when his garden would start producing, but I thought it was about that time. My mouth watered as I thought about his garden fresh vegetables, which he was so proud of. I hoped he was still gardening, in spite of me being gone. I tried not to dwell on that part too much. It was much easier to pretend that I was just away on a trip, so that’s what I did.

I told my mom about the silly romance books I was reading. I had always teased her about her ‘smut books,’ and now here I was reading them every day. It was harder to write to her, more difficult to pretend that she wasn’t devastated by my absence. I still did it, but mostly I drew pictures for her. I didn’t want to talk about the reality of anything, so I just drew things that I remembered from our house, our yard. I tried to draw portraits of her and my dad, but I couldn’t seem to get them right. I would try again and again and end up crying in frustration because I felt like the fact that I couldn’t draw them properly meant that I was losing them. That I was forgetting what they looked like.

It was on that day, when I was drawing them, or rather trying to anyway, that he came down again. He came over and sat next to me on the bed again. He put his hand on my knee while I had my notebook resting on the other side of me, sketching the same lines over and over, trying to get it right.

His hand moved up my thigh, and his voice sent chills down my body. “You’re doing a real good job with that drawing, would you like some new pencils and a sketchbook?”

I tried to ignore him, just hyper focusing on the drawing in front of me. There was something unfamiliar bubbling up inside of me. I don’t know if it was just the combination of thinking about my parents so much, the frustration I was feeling about them fading from my memories, or even just the fact that I felt like he was interrupting my time ‘with’ my parents. I turned slightly away from him and kept sketching, purposefully ignoring him.

He pinched my thigh, hard. “Answer me, girl. Do you want something from me or not?” The threat was there, but it was different now. It felt like he was trying to coerce me now, barter with me instead of just threaten like he used to do.

The heat of the rage nearly blinded me. I don’t know what it was about it this time. My mind lost the ability to pretend, for just a second, and the fury took over instead. I took the gel pen in my hand like a knife and stabbed it into his hand, feeling the crunch of the pen breaking as it broke through his skin. I could see the plastic sticking out between the bones of his hand and let go of the pen instantly.

I think we were both in shock, for just a second, and then the adrenaline raced through me. I saw him staring at the wound in his hand and I realized that I was going to pay for that. He was probably going to kill me. My brain screamed, “RUN,” and I did.

I leapt from the bed and raced to the door that he had left unlocked. I wasn’t the only one who had grown complacent in the last weeks.

The door scraped against the hinges as I flung it open, the slamming of the door against the cement wall spurring me on even faster. I scrambled, half-falling, half-running up the stairs, my breath coming in panicked gasps. I hadn’t moved much in the last five or so months. I felt tears prick my eyes as I realized how out of shape I was. I had to get away, I just had to. I found the door at the top of the stairs, turning the doorknob with no result.

The door didn’t open. I screamed in frustration and flung myself at the door, my shoulder bruising as I threw my entire weight behind it. “NO!” I yelled and kept rattling the knob. Apparently, he hadn’t been as lax as I’d thought. I was still slamming my body into the door when I heard him at the bottom of the stairs. He was laughing at me.

His laugh was worse than any other sound he’d ever made. I increased my pace, slamming into the door again and again, sobbing and screaming obscenities as I begged the door to open.

I felt his hand on my ankle just before he yanked me back down the stairs. My body slammed into the top steps, and I felt every part of my body bash against the wooden steps. Scraping, tearing my flesh, bones grating, pain exploding as he dragged me down the stairs.

He didn’t bother picking me up or putting me onto the bed. He was panting, heaving from the exertion, his fingers dripping blood from the hole that I had put in his hand. He was bellowing like an injured animal, his fists clenched and a furious bloodlust in his eyes. It was going to happen. He was going to kill me.

I closed my eyes and waited for death to come and take me away. I barely had the presence of mind to flinch as he ripped my shorts off and then my shirt, leaving my bare skin against the cold rough cement. His fist connected with my jaw and everything went black again.

I don’t know how long I was out. I woke up from the agony of the throbbing in my head, the cold seeping deep into my bones. Every single part of me felt bloody and bruised. Tears were sliding down the sides of my face before I even came to consciousness. My hair was wet with them, making me wonder how long I’d been out. I was so very cold that I wondered if maybe I was already dead and my brain just hadn’t caught up yet. I shuddered as I remembered the feel of Valerie’s cold, dead body in my arms, even that movement caused me to cry out in pain.

I heard my mother’s voice in my head, ‘Get up, Lila girl. Get yourself in bed and warm up. You can’t give up now.’ I knew that I had to get up, get off the cold floor, but I couldn’t move enough to even roll over. I felt a spurt of anger at my mother, for coming to me and speaking to me, expecting me to just deal with this pain, then trauma. Why was she pushing me so hard when she wasn’t even here?

Still, I suppose there was something to be said for a mother’s voice. Even just in my imagination, she made me want to try harder. I remembered all of those years when I was a child and wanted to give up because something was too hard. It was too far, too impossible, took too much time, effort, and practice. She would be there, right by my side, encouraging me, and she never let me give up. I suppose that’s why she was here now. If I ever needed my mom, it was now.

My body screamed at me as I tried again and again to turn my body to the side. I was panting from the exertion, taking one last push of energy to roll over when the nausea hit me. I cried out in my mind, I’m sorry, Mom. I can’t do it. I can’t.

I felt wave after wave, a cold sweat breaking out all over my body.

My breath was coming out in short bursts as I tried to ease the feeling of nausea. I tired to calm myself, but I was just feeling more hysterical as my body tried its best to fight me. My mother’s voice came again; this time there was no room for argument. It was her firm, do as I say now voice. ‘Lila Solomon, you get yourself calmed down right now. Breathe with me. One, two, three. Deep breaths in through your nose, out through your mouth. FOCUS!’

She had done this since I was little. Whenever I got myself worked up into a panic, she would put her hands on my shoulders, look deep into my eyes, and breathe with me. It always worked, and it was starting to work now. I could almost feel her hands on my shoulders. The feeling was so strong, it almost made me gasp with the pain of missing her. I wanted to see my mom again, and if I wanted to see her, I had to survive this. Still following her breathing rhythms, I felt my body calming, felt it gearing up for one last push of effort.

“Thank you mom,” I whispered into the empty room. “Thank you.” I wondered if she could hear me as well as I could hear her.

I somehow managed to pull myself up to my hands and knees, the rough cement floor dragging against my skin, leaving even more battered flesh. I ignored the sharp pains and dragged myself back to my bed. My muscles were shaking as if I hadn’t left my bed in months. I was gasping for breath, my stomach cramping up and wanting to heave the entire way there. I knew my skin was covered with cuts and bruises, as well as dried blood, but I couldn’t even care about that right now. I had to take care of that bone chilling cold that seemed to be taking over.

I reached the bed and pulled myself up under the blankets. The bag of pretzels that I had gotten out was still lying on the bed waiting for me, so I dragged it closer and tried to open it. It took so many tries that I was crying again by the time the plastic bag finally gave way and opened for me. I managed to get a handful of pretzels down before I felt a wave of exhaustion so intense that I just fell asleep. Maybe it was more like passing out from the trauma of it all, but either way, I didn’t wake up until it was dark in my room.

The sounds of something skittering through the bag of pretzels jolted me away. I reached for the bag and felt a tiny furry thing scramble over my arm. I would have screamed, but I didn’t have the energy. I took the bag of pretzels and rolled it up as tight as I could and slid it under my pillow, hoping that was enough to keep the mouse away from it. I wondered, as I drifted off, if the mouse would just try to eat through my head to get to the food and realized that I was just too broken to even care. I didn’t wake again until sunlight streamed through the windows, letting me know that it was another day. I wasn’t sure if it had just been one night, or if it had been a week.

The escape attempt taught me something, though. I needed to think things through more. Now I’d lost the edge that I could have had because he knew I still wanted to escape. He’d always be on guard now.

He had also took my pens, and that devastated me more than anything else; now I couldn’t even draw or write anymore. I felt like I’d lost my last possible connection with the outside world, which was just stupid anyway. It wasn’t like anyone would have even seen my letters. Still, that was my delusion and now that was gone, too.

My books were still here, but my notebook was trash. He ripped it to shreds and left the pieces all over the floor. I gathered up all the pieces and I put them into a little box that I found in the piles of crap down here. Sometimes, I’d go through and try to put them back together, like puzzle pieces. I imagined that I was talking to them again, but it usually just made me so sad that I’d put them all back into the box and hide it again, way under the edge of my bed behind some other clothes and stuff. I had nothing left other than the pages I’d wrote on for Valerie, and a couple I had written for my own family that I had hid in my mattress. I was far too afraid to take them out yet. I didn’t want him to know that I still had them.
He took my shelves, and, for some reason, that seemed like a much bigger thing than it should have. I had begun to feel like I had a room of my own. I had become complacent far too often. The bookshelves being gone signified something more. It was a reminder that I didn’t belong here. That this ‘room’ wasn’t my own; it was just a place that he was letting me stay.

I would never be free, never have my own things, I would never be safe as long as I was here.

He had inadvertently renewed my determination to get out of here. To not let myself become content in this place. I would no longer think of it as anything other than a prison.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

I had no idea if I was tracking my days properly anymore. I was still making marks whenever I was awake and I could see the sunlight through the shadows surrounding the little window of my prison. I had been sleeping so much that I wasn’t even sure I’d caught every day that passed, or maybe I might have thought it was a new day when it was really still the same day as when I made the last mark on the wall.

Between the physical injuries and constant pain, and my mind’s ability to escape, I may have been out for hours or even days, not keeping track of anything.

The last few days, I had made my scratches on the wall, but that was about all I could manage. I was so glad that he didn’t find the nail that I had been using to scratch the marks with, because he would have surely taken it from me, even though it was no bigger than a tack. I couldn’t lose my last tool to write with. I needed to keep track, although I couldn’t begin to tell you why, it just seemed essential. Like maybe when I hit the right number, I would finally be free. Surely this wouldn’t last forever. He couldn’t keep me forever, right?

My body wanted to toss and turn with every thought, but it hurt too much. Hell, it even hurt to breathe at that point. I think I probably even had a broken rib or two. My arm was nearly black from all of the bruising where I fell when he yanked me down the stairs. My hip and thigh were pretty dark with bruises and cuts, which would be forever marked by ugly scars once they healed. Every part of me was in agonizing pain, so I just tried to sleep as much as I could.

I woke up with my stomach screaming at me to eat. I could no longer wait to eat without feeling like my body was going to heave itself dry. I had taken to keeping a bag of crackers or pretzels, whatever I had on hand, hidden under my pillows so that I didn’t have to move much to have a snack. That seemed to keep the mice away as well, so it was a win-win for me.

I’m not sure how long it had been, but I was still in bed and he hadn’t bothered me since that day. I think. Maybe I just blocked it out or I didn’t remember. I had been pretty out of it.

I hadn’t washed myself, or even sat up in days; it hurt way too much. I knew I needed to get cleaned up. I was terrified of getting infections in my cuts, but I was in so much agony, I didn’t know how to force myself to the shower to get it taken care of.

I didn’t know how long I had slept before I was awakened again. I felt almost drugged, the exhaustion felt like it was leeching through to my bones. I wondered if I was in fact dying. If the fall down the stairs had done some sort of internal damage that was slowly killing me. I couldn’t imagine it was normal to be this exhausted for this long.

I was still feeling a bit out of it, timewise, but I was fairly certain that it had been weeks since that day I had tried to escape, and I was still feeling completely wiped out. I tried to sit up, but the nausea completely overwhelmed me. I laid my head back on the pillow, waiting until my head stopped spinning and the overwhelming need to vomit eased a bit.

I was still lying on the bed when he came down with food. He set the tray of food on the bed beside me, but he didn’t leave this time. I didn’t even have the energy to panic, but the pressure started in my head as I fought the tears that threatened to spill from my eyes. I blinked, hoping to avoid crying. I’m not even sure why I cared, but I didn’t want to cry in front of him.

His hand touched my forehead, and he muttered something. He pulled out a bottle of ibuprofen and set it on the bed beside the plate. I thought he would say something then, but he just stood there, shifting on his feet.

I finally lost patience and tried to sit up to eat. I couldn’t wait any longer or I knew I’d be heaving up nothing again. My body couldn’t handle the spasms that came along with that. Not again.

I slowly raised my head, kind of testing the level of pain I’d have today. It wasn’t bad, actually. I slowly sat up and pulled the plate to me. Nibbling on the stale sandwich immediately made my stomach stop rebelling, and, soon, I had devoured everything on the plate. He pulled a couple of candy bars out of his jacket pocket and tossed them onto the bed.

“You okay?” I barely recognized his voice, he hadn’t spoken to me for a while. I didn’t really know what to say. Was I okay? I didn’t know.

“I guess,” I said, staring at the candy bars as if they would disappear from in front of my face. He never brought me candy. He must be really worried. I tentatively reached out and took one off the plate, halfway expecting it to be a trick. Surely he’d grab it or smack me for trying to take it. Nothing happened, though. I unwrapped the candy and took my first bite, nearly moaning with the taste of it.

Soon, both of the candy bars were gone, my stomach was much better, and I felt like I could get up and accomplish something.

He was still standing there by my bed, not saying anything. Just looking at me. I started to get annoyed and realized that I hadn’t even let myself feel anything for weeks. I’d been in a haze of pain, exhaustion, and nausea, for weeks.

“What do you want?” I said, an edge of aggravation in my voice.

He turned and left the room, leaving the door open behind him. I didn’t even have the energy to get up and follow him, not even if it meant a chance for escape. I knew I didn’t have the fight in me right now, and I was pretty certain there was no way I had the strength to survive another failed attempt at leaving.

I heard his boots on the stairs again, and my body tensed. I should have known it wasn’t over. He came down with a box and threw it onto the bed before he turned and left again, this time shutting and locking the door behind him.

I just stared at the box for a minute or two. I wasn’t sure what this meant, but he seemed to be worried about me again, so maybe it was a gift. That seemed to be the routine. He could abuse me, leave me locked in the basement, and it was all fine, but once something happened that made him feel honestly worried, he supplied me with gifts as an apology.

I slid the box closer and opened the flaps. I tried to stay unemotional about it, but my eyes teared up and my throat closed a bit when I saw what was inside. There was a new notebook. I held my breath and pulled it out to find a box of crayons underneath. I made a face. So he’d found a way to let me have my things without fear that I’d have a weapon this time. I pulled out the crayons to find a few more paperback romances and more candy bars in the bottom of the box.

I immediately hid the candy in my secret box. I didn’t want him to be able to take them away, and, since I wasn’t sure when I’d see candy again, I wanted to save them for a time when I was desperate for the treat.

I tried not to be excited about the notebook and crayons. It felt like I was giving him credit for it or something, and I didn’t want him to feel like he’d done anything good for me. I couldn’t help myself, though. I opened the big box of crayons and just the smell of them made me smile. I opened the notebook and started to draw.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

He didn’t come down the next day. At first I was just relieved. I drew pictures with my crayons, finding it far too easy to regress into a nearly childlike state as I watched the crayon leave color on the page. I drew swirls and designs and happy faces. I drew hearts and flowers that looked far too childlike for my age, but I didn’t care. It was so soothing to just not feel anything for a while. I revelled in it because I knew that it wouldn’t be long before reality was thrust at me again.

By the time I realized he wasn’t coming, my stomach was crying out in hunger. I was obviously still sick and just moving made me want to vomit.

I felt a little resentful when I finally dug the candy bars out of my box. I ate them, feeling slightly irrational in my anger. I had wanted to save these for a good day, but he was such a heartless bastard that he didn’t feed me all day, forcing me to eat them now.

They tasted like sawdust to me, but they helped my stomach. I pulled out another water bottle and sipped on it.

I apparently fell asleep while I was reading because the next thing I knew, the door was rattling.

I had left my lamp on and my body came instantly awake in that way it did when you weren’t quite sure where you were, or what time of day it was. I heard something banging against the door and I stared through the faded light from the lamp. The doorknob was rattling. Someone was on the other side.

“Hello?” I meant to yell, or at least be heard, but my voice came out with barely a squeak. What was happening here? The doorknob rattled again, and I slid myself back into the corner of my bed, my eyes glued to the door. What if it was a trick? What if he was just trying to get me to escape again so he would have a reason to beat me or kill me or rape me again? I was frozen with fear. Dread crawled through my body like a million spiders working their way under my skin. I wrapped my arms around my knees and tried to curl up into as small a space as I could.

The all too familiar sound of the key scraping in the lock sounded then, and the door slammed open, hitting the wall with a loud bang. I jumped, my eyes never leaving the door. I saw him in the shadow of the stairway. He was half-dragging, half-carrying something.

My heart dropped. Someone. He was carrying someone.

I watched, wide eyed with my lips pressed together into a line, as he dragged the body across the floor. She wasn’t moving. I took in every detail I could. I thought she looked smaller than me. Her hair was blond and cut short. She was wearing some sort of flannel with a hoodie or something like that, and jeans with laced up boots. He pulled her to the wall and chained her with the cuffs he had attached to the wall. He hadn’t done that with Valerie. I wondered what was different about this one. She still hadn’t moved and I was terrified that he’d already killed her, too, but I wasn’t about to do or say anything to turn his attention to me. Not when he was in such a rage. The energy was pouring off of him; a dark, furious energy that I didn’t want to experience ever again. I curled up tighter and stayed silent.

He checked the cuffs twice more and then stumbled a bit as he turned to leave the room. I was just letting out a sigh of relief when he turned at the last moment and ambled over to me on the bed. He leaned over and took my chin in his hand, forcing me to meet his eyes.

I gasped when I saw him. His face had two deep, bloody gashes down his left cheek and his eye was swollen.

He smiled at me then. “Yeah, she’s a real wildcat, that one. She’s going to be fun to break.” He squeezed my chin until I cried out from the pain of it. “Try not to kill this one, okay? I want to keep her strong and healthy.”

He pushed me away and left without another word.

My heart was racing. I knew it wasn’t my fault had Valerie died, but his words still hit me like a punch in the gut. It wasn’t my fault. He knew it wasn’t my fault. Why did he have so much control over me? My god.

I stayed in the corner of the bed, curled up tight, watching the girl chained to the wall. She didn’t move at all, but I could see that she was breathing. That gave me some glimmer of hope, and I felt better for some reason. At least she wasn’t dead. I slowly got up and took one of my blankets to her, tucking it in around her and a little under her to try to protect her from the cold cement floor and stone

walls. I brushed her hair out of her face to see that she wasn’t bruised quite as bad as he had been. I smiled, just thinking of how strong she must be to have gotten the best of him. I wasn’t sure why she was unconscious, but just having seen the damage she had inflicted on him made me proud of her somehow. And maybe just a little jealous.

Maybe she would be strong enough to help us both escape. This girl with no name was my new hope. A teeny tiny sliver of hope, but hope nonetheless.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

I don’t know how long it took me to finally fall asleep, or how long I actually slept, but I fell asleep practically hanging off the edge of my bed, watching her for any sign of movement. I woke up when she finally moved. Or moaned. I’m not really sure, but she made a sound and I was awake instantly.

The sun was barely up, so it was still pretty dim in the room. I jumped up and ran to her side with a bottle of water. I assumed he must have drugged her to knock her out like that, so I thought she’d want water.

She looked at me, still dazed and fairly out of it, but she understood that I was bringing her water. She reached for the bottle, but the cuffs had her chained too close to the wall. Panic flared in her eyes so hard that I couldn’t help but see it, even in the nearly dark room. I made what I hoped were soothing sounds and held the water to her mouth. She drank, gulping the water like someone who had been stuck in the desert for days. I let her drink until she started to cough, letting my body sink down on the blanket beside her.

I felt awkward now. There isn’t really an etiquette book on how to make friends when you’re being held prisoner. I didn’t know what to say, so I just sat silent, my tongue feeling stuck in my mouth. Like I had forgotten how to speak.

“Where…” Her voice was a dry rasp. She coughed and cleared her throat, trying again. “Where am I?”

I opened my mouth to give her an answer and realized that I didn’t have one. I looked at the nearly empty water bottle in my hand, trying to figure out what to say.

“WHERE AM I?” I heard the panic creeping into her voice then, and it spurred me on.

“I don’t know. We’re in his house, I think.” I paused, wondering how he’d gotten her here. “Where were you?” She looked at me, confused. “I mean, how did he… find you?”

She frowned. “I don’t… I was out. No, I was supposed to go out, to meet my friends at the restaurant. Wait, I did get there, but my friends weren’t there yet, so I had a drink. I started feeling sick, so I asked the waiter to call a ride for me.” She shook her head as if to clear the cobwebs from her memory and then groaned in pain. “That’s the last thing I remember. I almost remember the air as I stepped outside because it was so hot I felt like I couldn’t breathe, but that’s it.” She rattled the cuffs. “What is this? Why?” She looked at me again and I could tell that the reality was starting to sink in.

“I don’t know what happened, but he came in with you last night. You weren’t moving. I thought you were…” My voice cracked and I pictured Valerie again, lying cold in my arms. I pushed that thought away. “But he was hurting. You had to have fought him at some point. His face was scratched horribly. His eye was nearly swollen shut. You fought back.” It seemed really important that I tell her that part. That she hadn’t just given in.

She was blinking tears back when I looked up again. “Well it doesn’t fucking matter if I still ended up here. What are we going to do?”

I felt really afraid then. Or ashamed. I’m not really sure which. This was a girl who wasn’t going to take any of his shit without a fight. She wouldn’t find herself stuck in a basement for months on end, escaping with crayons and paperbacks. I didn’t want to tell her how long I’d been here. I didn’t want to think about it.

I stood up and walked back to my bed without another word.

“Wait! What’s your name? What did I say?” Her voice was rising, higher in pitch as she questioned me. I pulled the covers over my head and hid from everything. I squeezed my eyes shut, just wanting everything to end. “Please! Talk to me! Why are you here!?” I could tell she was getting more frantic, but that only served to make me want to hide even more. I put my hands over my ears and sang to myself in my mind. I wanted her to go away.

I eventually had to move. My muscles were cramping. I had to pee. I rolled over as silently as I could, but as soon as I turned over, I saw that she was watching me like a hawk. I closed my eyes, but she was already speaking, her voice calmer now. Still desperate, but calm. “Please, can you just tell me your name? My name is Nicky. I just want to talk. I’m scared. Please, just talk to me.”

“Lila,” I said my name without even thinking, but once it was out in the open, I wanted to pull it back. It felt wrong to say it. The name that my mother had called me. The name my friends had called me. The name of the person I used to be. I pressed my hand to my mouth to keep the sob from escaping. I hadn’t expected this. Hell, I hadn’t even realized that I hadn’t said my own name in months. I had put that girl away and had become this… this captive. This non-human entity that just existed in this cave of a basement. It was like if I just kept my name to myself, kept it a secret, then it wouldn’t really count. This wasn’t really happening to me. My parents weren’t heartbroken and missing me. I was just on hold. On pause. But now I’d said it aloud to another human being, and it was all too real.

Of all the things that had made me cry in the last few months, I never thought speaking my name would be so traumatic. Or maybe cathartic. I didn’t even know, all I knew was that huge sobs wracked my body, wave after wave of anger and grief flowed out of me. I was making horrific sounds that I didn’t even recognize as human. I had a momentary vision of movies where I’d seen women cry out in abject grief or horror, and, at the time, I’d thought it was stunning. Now, I realized it wasn’t real. None of it had been real. This thing, this emotion that was flooding my every nerve ending, filling my heart to overflowing with grief, with the pain and agony of this life I had been subjected to, this was real. It was all too real and indescribable. Nobody would ever be able to understand, not even me. I cried until I had nothing left.

When it was all silent, I heard sniffling coming from Nicky. I looked up and she just sat there, defeated. Tears were dripping off of her chin and onto her hoodie, and, for a bit, I just sat, mesmerized by the sight.

I slowly gathered my blankets and took them over to where Nicky was cuffed. I tucked the blankets around us both and put my arm around her shoulders. We sat there in silence, the only sound a sniffle or a big sigh as we both just dealt with our own demons at the moment, tied together by this bond we never would have chosen. Roommates in this hell that he had chosen for us.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“Why is it so damn cold in here?” Nicky’s voice broke through my thoughts.

“It’s always cold down here,” I answered.

“It’s hot as hell outside, but this place makes me feel like the cold goes straight to my bones.” She looked around the room, taking everything in.

I wondered if I had just gotten used to the cold down here, or if it was actually warmer now. I counted up the days and months in my mind. It had to be summer now. I thought it was July, but realized that Nicky would be able to tell me something more. She had been out there; she would know.

“What… day is it?” I asked. I knew that my marks on the wall had to be off by some amount, but I didn’t know if they were off by a week or a month. I had no idea of how much time had passed while I had been healing from my injuries.

Nicky got a far away look in her eyes for a moment. “I think it’s July… 20th? Maybe?” I could see her mind working as she tried to remember. “Yeah, it’s got to be right around the 20th. We were meeting for my friend’s birthday, and it was the 20th. Maybe it’s the 21st.” She looked at me. “Wait, how long have you been…” her voice trailed off and I could tell she wished she hadn’t said anything.

I didn’t want to tell her. It felt like an enormous chasm was developing between us in my mind. I felt overwhelmed with guilt for still being here, then anger at the fact that even my emotions felt like they were betraying me. Everything was so damn unfair. I took a breath, and, still, it was another beat or two before I could speak.

“He took me on New Year’s Day.” My voice was a whisper,

Nicky was obviously shocked. “You’ve been here for almost seven months? Oh my god.” I could see her turning this over in her brain. I knew she was thinking about being stuck here that long and refusing to accept it.  I still remembered thinking that I would only be here for a week or two. I felt my entire being folding in on itself as I realized how long it had been since I had hope.

“I made marks on the wall,” I said, feeling stupid and helpless as I pointed out the wall of scratches made with my pathetic little nail.

She looked at those marks, slowly taking them all in. She looked at me. “You must be really strong.” Her voice was quiet.

I was shocked into silence. This girl thought I was strong? Me? I scrambled for something to say, but I was at a loss.

“Really,” she said, “You’ve survived down here for this long? And you are still sane.”

“Well, that’s debatable,” I said with a wry grin.

“Who is Valerie?” She was looking at the letters I had scratched out on the wall. They were barely legible, but she had figured it out.

I didn’t want to talk about it. I couldn’t share Valerie with anyone yet. It seemed wrong to talk about her for some reason. Some part of me was afraid Valerie’s death would be too much if I spoke the words aloud.

“She…” I took a breath and knew that I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell Nicky about Valerie yet. It was still too raw. “She was my friend.”

Nicky seemed to understand the unspoken words. Changing the subject, she lowered her voice, “Have you tried to find a way out?”

I looked down at my arm, the bruises faded to a sickly green and yellow on my pale skin. “I have,” I said quietly. “It didn’t work.”

“What happened?” I could see the gears turning in her head. She thought she could find a way out, learn from my mistakes. I was still too much of a realist to buy into that. I wasn’t sure anything short of a team of imaginary superheroes were going to get us out of this.

“He forgot to lock the door,” I said, pointing to the obvious escape route. “I stabbed him with a pen and ran up the stairs, but the door up there was locked. He… he caught me.” I closed my eyes, trying not to let the memories overwhelm me. I swallowed hard.

“What did he do?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I shut down, put the thoughts, the memories, out of my mind. I didn’t want to say the words out loud. I didn’t want to relive the beating I’d taken, and I didn’t even want to acknowledge how stupid it had been to try to escape without a plan. I turned away from her and she stopped asking questions. Once again, we were both lost in our own little worlds.

I suddenly had a thought. “Where are you from? Have you heard anything about me? Have you seen my parents?” Surely there had been something on the news about me, maybe even about Valerie.

She looked at me then, horror dawning in her eyes, her mouth opened like she was going to say something, but she just kept staring at me. She finally found her voice. “It’s you! Oh my god. You look so different, I never would have recognized you.” She was looking at me with a look of awe and dread. “You’ve been gone so long. I’ve seen your picture everywhere!” She paused to think. “Well, I did see your picture everywhere. It’s kind of… ummm.”
“It’s kind of what? What do you mean?” I felt my voice rising, and I tried to calm myself, but I couldn’t.

“I’m sorry! I just...” Nicky was obviously trying to find the right words. “You don’t… didn’t even live close to me. We all heard about you when you first disappeared, but I think the police assume that you’re…” her voice trailed off.

I was stunned at that revelation. “They think I’m dead? Does that mean they’ve given up? What about my parents? My mom? She should know I’m not gone! Did they stop looking?” It felt like someone had punched me in the gut. I couldn’t wrap my brain around it all. Had my family given up?

“No!” Nicky tried to reach out to comfort me, her hands restrained by the cuffs. She let her hands drop. Her voice was quiet. “No, I’m not saying your family has given up. Not at all. I still see your missing posters around, your family still gets on TV and asks for information. It’s just that the police don’t have any new leads. They have no idea where you are.” She looked at me and I saw something flicker past her eyes. “Hell, there is even a big reward that I could really use now that I know where you are. Do you suppose I could figure out a way to collect it?” She gave me an apologetic smile.

I was sure my smile was looking pretty worn down. I hesitated for second. Part of me wanted to force her to talk more about what she knew, but another, bigger part of me didn’t want to hear it. I knew there were things going on that I should probably know about, but not right now. I was still reeling from Valerie’s death, from my own imprisonment and injuries, from being sick for the last two months.

I appreciated that she was trying to lighten things up. I had no idea how this was going to play out for us, but it was nice to have someone to talk to again. I didn’t know how to say that to her. I mean, I couldn’t just say, ‘hey I’m glad you’re trapped here, too!’ but I was so glad not to be alone anymore.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

He didn’t come into the cellar for a couple of days after he brought Nicky down. He’d just slide a tray of food through the door and leave again. Nicky was still chained up and it grated on her a lot. I knew that he was punishing her for getting the best of him, if only for a moment. It had to drive him nuts that she had left marks on him. It made me wonder if he worked somewhere, if he went to the store, how he would explain the black eye and the scratches. Maybe someone would wonder, put him together with the newest missing girl.

We had to make do with a bucket as a toilet for her. Nicky was mortified and raged about the disgusting task that I had to help her with, but there was nothing to be done about it. I guess I had just grown accustomed to things because it didn’t really phase me at all. I just did what needed to be done. Honestly, I was so happy not to have to deal with his presence that I was fine dealing with our makeshift ‘chamber pot’ and told Nicky just to pretend that she was a princess locked in a tower or something. She didn’t think I was very funny, but I supposed my sense of humor was a bit off after more than half of a year locked in this cellar.

After the fourth day, he finally came down. Nicky breathed a sigh of relief as he came over to her, keys in hand. She seemed to think it was a good thing, but I had a prickle of dread creeping up my spine. Nicky didn’t seem to think past being unchained. He held the key for the cuffs up in front of her, and she lifted her arms so he could unlock them.

He just looked at her in silence, not moving to unlock them, just staring at her. He dropped the key and let his eyes trail down her body. I saw her shudder, and I backed further away. I knew if he noticed me, he would cuff me or beat me just to show her that he was in control.

Nicky’s jaw was clenched; I could see the muscle twitch as she clenched her teeth together. She knew she was in a precarious situation, still cuffed and trapped with this maniac. He stepped forward and ran his fingers along her jaw. Her hands came up to block his away, but he grabbed the cuffs and yanked her hands back. She cried out as they cut into her wrists, trying to turn her head away from his touch. I knew it would do no good. I found myself curling in on myself, crouching down in the corner of the room, desperately wanting to just disappear. I didn’t want to see her get hurt. I didn’t want this to be happening, but I couldn’t look away. I willed her to behave, to be nice so that he wouldn’t beat her, but it wasn’t working.

He ran his hand through her short, spiky hair, and she actually spit at him, the rage coming off of her in waves. She wasn’t going to be easily broken. This was definitely not another Valerie.

I watched the spittle fly from her lips and land on his chest. He was so much bigger than she was, I knew he could kill her in a heartbeat if he wanted to. His hand came up around her throat, squeezing until she started struggling against him. The chains clanked against the cuffs as she tried to bring her hands up to get him off of her. He just watched her struggle, his hand holding her tight against the wall with no discernable effort whatsoever. She was turning red and trying to gasp for breath.

A cry came from my mouth, I didn’t want her to die. I was rocking back and forth, begging half-aloud, half-in-my-head, over and over again, begging him to leave her alone. He finally turned to me, his hand still around her throat, still squeezing. Her eyes were closed and tears streaked down the sides of her face. He saw me then, heard my cries, something. He dropped her and she actually fell all the way to the floor in a dead heap. I didn’t know if she was even breathing; my heart felt like it was going to thump right out of my chest. He looked at her like she was a vile piece of garbage and kicked her over with his foot. She rolled over and groaned loudly. I was so relieved she wasn’t dead that I started to cry myself.

He came over and picked me up by the arm, dragging me to the bed. I heard the chains as Nicky moved around, probably trying to get as far away from his presence as she could. He laid me on the bed and I went numb. I floated away, horrified that Nicky was going to see me, but I didn’t have any fight left in me. I let myself disappear and pretended I was somewhere else. I rolled into a ball when he was done and didn’t move until he left and locked the door. I counted the steps until he reached the top, then I ran to the bathroom and vomited in the shower, letting the cold water wash over me as my body purged the feeling of him. I sat on the floor of the shower, the water pouring over me as I cried silent tears. I felt humiliated all over again at the fact that he had assaulted me right there in front of her, and I had just let him. She wouldn’t understand, she hadn’t experienced even a tenth of what I had already been through. I knew she would be judging me, and I just couldn’t deal with another second of that thought.

I eventually had to leave the bathroom, but I waited until it was dark and I stole back into the room in silence, burying myself in the blankets on the bed. I heard her calling to me, but I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I lay in bed and stared, with dry eyes, at the marks on the wall, even though it was too dark to see them clearly. I had vacillated from hope to despair once again. I wasn’t even sure I was feeling anything at all. Maybe I was just dead inside. Broken beyond repair. Maybe it didn’t matter anymore. I ignored Nicky’s increasingly desperate whispers and surrounded myself with my invisible walls until I fell asleep.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The next morning he came in with our tray of food and a second set of handcuffs. These were just normal cuffs that hung off of his belt. He set the tray of food on the table and waited for me to acknowledge him. I couldn’t stand the tension, the worry about what he was going to do, so I finally met his eyes. He held up a key in one and and the cuffs in the other.

“Uncuff her from the wall, and cuff her with these.” He apparently didn’t want to chance getting close to her when she was uncuffed. “NOW.”

I grabbed the key and the cuffs and ran over to Nicky.

“Don’t do it!” she said in a whisper. “It has to be a trick.”

I took her hands in mine, shaking so hard I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to hold onto the key as it was. I finally got the cuffs unlocked, and she shook the sleep from her hands.

“Now cuff her hands behind her.”

I put the key in the pocket of my sweats and took the new cuffs. I pulled her arms behind her back, but she fought me. I got one cuff on her wrist and I was crying again. I was such an emotional wreck, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring myself to cuff her. To contribute directly to what I knew was coming next. I stepped away from her, my hands over my face. I heard him growl as obscenities flew from his mouth.

He came over and grabbed her free hand and brought the cuffs around to lock them. She screamed and fought, breaking free with her uncuffed hand, trying to get a punch in. She had to have known it was no use. He was so much bigger and stronger than she was. Besides the fact that she had been chained to a wall for days, barely eating enough to survive.

No way would she have the strength to win this fight.

Still, she obviously didn’t care. She kicked out at him and he grabbed her foot, yanking her so that she landed on her back on the cement floor with a thud. The wind was knocked out of her, and he used those few moments of stillness to cuff her hands in front of her. 

He yanked her to her feet and dragged her toward the bathroom. She was still in a daze, not fighting him anymore as she stumbled to try to keep up so she didn’t fall. I heard the shower turn on and the sound of fabric ripping. I sank down on the bed and covered my ears when she started screaming.

Nothing blocked the sounds as Nicky screamed her head off. I could hear her struggling and cursing at him until there was another thud followed by silence. He came stomping out of the bathroom, soaking wet with a dark, furious energy coming off of him in waves. I sat on the bed, unmoving, watching as he stormed over to the door and left the room, stomping up the stairs and slamming the upstairs door.

I sat for a little bit, unsure of what I should do. Nicky was still yelling and swearing in the bathroom, I could hear the cuffs hitting the wall, punctuating her obscenities. Her anger finally started dying down, and I thought I heard her crying. I knew that she would hate the fact that I could hear her breaking down, so I just sat myself down on the bed with a book and lost myself in my own world.

“Lila?” I heard her voice through the haze of my escapism and looked up. She was holding a towel in front of her, the cuffs still on her wrists. I saw the problem and ran over to her. She wouldn’t be able to get clothes on with the cuffs in the way.

“Surprise,” I said, pulling the key out of my pocket, which he’d forgotten to take with him. I unlocked her cuffs and she looked like she was going to cry again. “Here,” I said, grabbing a T-shirt and sweater with some sweats and thrusting the bundle at her. “Take these and get dressed.”

“But he’ll know that you unlocked the cuffs if I have those on.”

I hesitated; she had a point. Did we dare to show our hand already? Maybe he would notice that he hadn’t taken the key back anyway, but, if not, we had a tiny bit of chance. A little bit of power on our side.

“Damn it.” I dropped my hand holding the clothes. How could we even hide it?

Nicky stood there, holding the towel around herself, obviously trying to think of a way around it. There really was no easy way to do it, without leaving her topless the rest of the time. We didn’t have any way to cut the clothing to put on over the cuffs, we’d just have to hope that he didn’t think it through. I took the cuffs and the key and put them under my mattress. I hadn’t found a better place to hide anything yet, so that was my go to.

Nicky pulled on the clothes and came over to the bed, sitting down next to me. She grabbed the tray of food and put it between us.

“Picnic time?” she asked.

I was starving again, as usual. I practically inhaled the food on my side of the tray as Nicky picked through her half. I felt a little ridiculous stuffing my face with the bland food he always brought us. “I’m sorry, I know the food is gross. I am just so hungry all the time now.” I looked around. “Maybe I’m just bored.” I patted my belly. “Look, I’m even getting a food baby!”

Nicky just shook her head and laughed with me. “Hey, whatever makes you happy. I need to eat more. I don’t want him to get the best of me again.” She picked up a handful of chips from the plate and started eating.

I kept my mouth shut, knowing that it was going to be impossible for her to fight him off forever. If nothing else, he’d just beat her until she didn’t have the ability to hit back. I took a big bite of the sandwich in my hands and looked down at my lap.

“Hey,” she said, her voice quiet. I looked up to see her with an odd look on her face. “I just wanted to say… I don’t blame you at all.” She paused and I swear the food in my mouth turned to paste as a roiling ball of anxiety started building in my stomach.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I mumbled through the mouthful of food that was practically choking me.

“No, Lila. It’s not your fault. That’s all I wanted to say.” She grew quiet then and we ate in silence. I could tell she felt really uncomfortable, and I didn’t quite know what to do about it.

“I tried to fight it in the beginning. I even tried to escape once,” I finally said, breaking the awkward silence. “Twice, actually.”

Nicky stopped chewing and stared at me, obviously wanting to know more. “Are you ready to tell me what happened?” she whispered.

I took a drink of water and told her the story of my narrow almost escape again, with a few more details this time. “And then he nearly killed me. When I was bleeding and broken at the bottom of the stairs, he was so furious, I really thought I was dead. I knew I had pushed him too far.” I shuddered just remembering the pain of being dragged down the stairs. I pulled the side of my shirt up, showing her the marks that would probably never completely leave me where the old splintered steps had ripped my skin as he dragged me down. I slid the side of my pants down and showed her the still red, angry scar where a nail had torn into my flesh, leaving a big, ragged hole. I still wondered if I wouldn’t have just bled to death if he hadn’t left me lying on that side on the cold cement. The pressure of my body on it must have stemmed the flow of blood enough to keep me alive. The wound still hadn’t healed yet and was incredibly sore to the touch, but it had finally started healing in some way. I would always have a huge scar from it, though. I didn’t want to talk about what happened after he dragged me down the stairs. She had already seen enough to know what had happened next. I stayed quiet.

Nicky reached out and traced a finger next to the scar, a look of horror on her face. “Oh my god, Lila. I had no idea. I didn’t realize…” She looked at me, a look of surprise and maybe a little respect in her eyes. “I don’t know how you’ve survived all of this. You must be so much stronger than me. I don’t know if I can take it.”

Her words made me think of Valerie. I swallowed hard, the memory of her still so achingly strong in my mind and in my heart. “You have to,” I said, feeling a wave of grief and some kind of strength ready to burst forth from me. “You HAVE to survive this, Nicky.”

She looked a bit taken aback, and I realized that she had no way of knowing about Valerie. About the fact that I’d already lost someone down here. I took a deep breath and started telling her about Valerie. She was horrified that he’d taken yet another girl and by the end of the story, she was devastated for Valerie, for me, and maybe even for herself.

“I had no idea.” Nicky’s voice was so quiet, I barely heard her. “That’s why her name is scratched on the wall? To remember her?”

“I suppose, in a way. I mean, I won’t forget her, not ever.” I took in a slow, steady breath. I had to get my point across. “Nicky, you have to survive this. I can’t take losing anyone else. I can’t. You’re strong. Far stronger than me. We can get out of here, together, but not if you give up.”

Nicky still looked like she was in a bit of shock, but she nodded her head. “I’ll… try.”

I wasn’t sure where on earth this burst of confidence or energy was coming from. Nicky seemed to have been pretty thoroughly knocked back by the reality of my experience. “I’m not trying to freak you out, I just want you to know what we’re dealing with.” My confidence wavered a bit as I watched a look of defeat pass over her face. “Listen to me. This is nothing. It doesn’t matter what happens here as long as we survive it. You and I will find a way.” A dry laugh escaped, so rare that I barely recognized the sound. Nicky looked at me and I explained. “I was just thinking that you’ve already gotten the best of him at least once. He wasn’t expecting a fighter in you, and I think that is going to be his downfall. He doesn’t know what is up. Hell, Nicky, you made him forget the key to the cuffs! He never would have done that before!”

I felt the energy coming off of her now; she looked at me with a spark in her eyes. “You’re right. There are two of us and we can do this. Together.”

We talked for a while, coming up with and discarding various plans. In the end, we decided that it was much more important that we make absolutely sure we had a chance to actually escape. I wasn’t sure my body could take another beating. I was still overly weak and tired even a month later. I wasn’t sure if I would ever heal completely, but I knew that there was no way I had the ability to make a huge escape attempt right now.

Just discussing it was wearing me down, and I realized that I needed a nap. “Nicky, I’m sorry, I need to lie down. My stomach is giving me fits, my head is aching, and I’m so drained I can’t keep my eyes open for another second.”
Nicky hopped off of the bed. “That’s okay. You rest.” She looked concerned. “Do you think this is just your body trying to heal itself? Still? After a month?”

“I don’t know,” I mumbled. I really didn’t even have the energy to care right then, and I fell asleep without another thought.

I woke up some time later with Nicky shaking me awake. “Lila? Lila, wake up.” I groaned, feeling like I had been drugged, I was so exhausted. I pushed her away, but she kept trying to wake me. “Lila, there is someone else upstairs. Wake up!”

That jolted me awake. I sat up, my brain in a fog as I strained my ears to listen. The other voice was up there again. I groaned again and let myself fall back to the bed. “It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t care.” I put my hands over my eyes, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep.

“What do you mean, she doesn’t care?” Nicky shook my shoulder. “Have you seen her? Who is it? Why are you giving up already?”

I rolled towards her, pushing her hand away. “I don’t know who it is. I’ve heard her up there before. I screamed until I thought the ceiling would fall down, but she either can’t hear anything from down here, or she just doesn’t care.” I tried to sit back up again and just didn’t have the strength. “Just leave me alone. I’m so tired, I can’t deal with this.” I lay back down and closed my eyes.

“I’m sorry, Lila, I have to try something.” I felt the mattress shift as she got off the bed. “I’m worried about you. We need to get out of here. Give me the cuffs.”

I reached under the pillow and slid the cuffs out. I heard her clip them back on her wrists.

The next thing I knew, her feet were padding across the floor and I heard her pounding the metal cuffs on the door at the bottom of the stairs. She was screaming so loud, I thought that anyone within a mile should be able to hear her. It gave me a burst of energy I didn’t think I’d ever feel again, and I stood up on shaking legs to join her. We yelled until we were out of breath and then we stopped to listen. We could hear two sets of footsteps walking around, like nothing was unusual at all. It sounded like they were just having a discussion, maybe fixing dinner or something. His voice was muffled, but I could tell it was his as he spoke to whomever was up there with him. Her voice was quiet, barely audible at all, but it was obviously a second voice.

“If we can hear them, they can obviously hear us.” Nicky turned to me, frustrated. “How can another woman just stay up there and do nothing? She has to be able to hear us screaming.” She let out a bellow of fear and rage, banging her cuffs on the door one last time before turning to go back to the bed.
I sat down beside her with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. I tried to tell you.”

“Why doesn’t she care? Why won’t she help?” Nicky threaded her fingers together, clenching her hands until her knuckles were white.

“Maybe she’s his prisoner, too,” I said. “I can’t imagine he’d just have a wife or something.”
“It’s not fair!” Nicky’s voice was a near growl.

I put my hand over hers. “You’re right. It’s not fair, but, Nicky, we’re going to have to think things through. I am afraid he’s going to beat us for this, and I don’t think I can take that. Not again.” I felt a chill go through my body and a wave of nausea hit me so strong that I struggled to stand up and head for the bathroom.

Nicky jumped up to help me. “Are you all right? Lila?”

“Bathroom.” It was all I could get out as I tried not to heave all over her.

We made it to the bathroom, but I was shaking and exhausted, leaning on her completely for support. I had a deep sense of dread that something was horribly wrong.

I vomited everything I had eaten, gasping with the pain wracking my body. I was trying to hold back the tears, knowing to my core that something wasn’t right. Nicky held my hair and helped me back to bed, tucking me in just as we heard footsteps on the stairs. I tried not to cry, I felt so completely worn out and just ready to give up completely.

Nicky jumped up; she was ready. As soon as the door opened, she yelled at him, “What is wrong with you? Can’t you see that she’s sick? Do you want her to die? We need food and she needs a doctor. Now, you sick bastard! She’s going to DIE.” I could hear the anger laced with panic in her voice. I was too tired to argue, but I hoped she wasn’t going to bring his rage down on the both of us. I heard the door shut and lock again and let myself fade away. I didn’t have the energy, or the desire, to be involved in this anymore.

I woke up later in the dark. Nicky was curled around me in the bed, keeping me warm. I felt safer than I had in a long while and fell right back to sleep.

The next morning, he came down with a large paper bag and a plastic bag from a local pharmacy. I was surprised to see that he seemed actually concerned. I suppose if I died, then he’d have to take a chance of taking another girl. I wasn’t so naive as to think that he actually gave a shit about me, personally.

Nicky went to him and held out her cuffed wrists. “I need these off so I can take care of her. We need more food and some hot tea would probably do her some good. She needs sunlight and fresh air. You’ve kept her trapped down here in this hellhole with no breaks. What did you expect?” She stared at him, with her arms outstretched. I watched through half closed eyes. I was afraid of what was going to happen, but I couldn’t look away.

To my astonishment, he dug out his key ring and unlocked her cuffs. I reached under my pillow for the extra key I’d kept hidden and was so glad that she’d put the cuffs back on before he realized I had a key, too.

He dropped the cuffs over his belt and thrust the bags into her hands. “Don’t let her die, or I’ll leave you both down here. For good.” He turned and went to the door, looking back at us as if he was going to say something else. He finally left, locking the door behind him. His footsteps sounded on the stairs a minute or two later.

Nicky brought the bags over to me. Her words had apparently had an impact on him. She dumped the pharmacy bag out on the bed, there was several bottles for various ailments, colds, flu, cough, digestive issues, whatever. There was a big bottle of vitamins, some pain reliever and some immune boosting things. It was as if he’d just went in and asked for a new medicine cabinet. There was even a first aid kit filled with bandages, antibiotic ointment, peroxide and whatnot. Nicky looked the stuff over and then looked at me. She dumped two vitamins into my hand and gave me a water bottle.

“Now, what else can I get you? Do you need pain relief? Some nausea relief? Anything?”

I shook my head. “I actually just want some food right now. I feel gross until I eat something.”

She pulled the big paper sack over and spilled the contents onto the bed. There was actual produce there. Some apples, a couple of bananas, and a bag of prepped veggies. Broccoli, baby carrots, celery, and cauliflower. He’d bought more crackers and some cheese, another large plastic jar of peanut butter, and a loaf of bread. I was so sick of peanut butter, but the vegetables looked like a divine treat at the moment. I hadn’t had fresh vegetables or fruit the entire time I was here. Just the disgusting canned stuff, and that was getting really old.

I started munching on the veggies, feeling the need to go slow so I didn’t make myself sick, but it was so good. Nicky joined me, obviously watching me carefully to see what I preferred so she wouldn’t eat my favorite things. I knew she was really worried about me, and it warmed my heart to know that she cared enough to notice. Not to mention the fact that she had tempted fate and could have incurred his wrath by standing up for me. I didn’t have the words, but I met her eyes and smiled at her.

She smiled back and put her hand on mine. “You’re going to be okay, you know. I won’t let you down.”

I felt more hope at that moment than I had in a long while. I finally had someone on my side. Someone with the kind of strength I didn’t have myself. We ate until we were both full, and then Nicky packed the rest of the food up in the bag, setting it on the end of the bed. I hoped it was close enough to us to keep the mice away, but I was once again too tired to care.

“You want me to read to you?”

She must have realized that I was too tired to even read. I nodded and she picked up one of the well worn paperbacks, sitting on the mattress, her back against the wall. She pulled me closer so that my head rested on her lap, and she started reading to me, her free hand combing through my hair as I drifted off, listening to her voice as she told me a story.

CHAPTER THIRTY

I don’t know if it was the improved food, the vitamins, or maybe just the hint of hope, but over the next week I started feeling better.

He left a box of food just inside of the door at some point in the middle of the night a couple of times over the next week, but he never came in to see us. Nicky was confused by it.

I smiled, no longer feeling threatened and feeling like a normal person again for the first time in a long while. “He doesn’t like blood. I think periods scare him,” I told her.

Nicky frowned and looked at me. “He’s scared of periods? But… I’m not. Are you on your period now?”

I shook my head. “No, I think the stress stopped mine after Valerie died, actually. I haven’t had one in the last few months, but he still doesn’t come down. I think he just stops coming down for the last week of the month or something.”

“You haven’t had a period in months?” she asked, her head tilting as she looked at me a little closer. “When was your last one?”

I tried to think, but it was a blur. “I think it was just before Valerie came, so maybe… I don’t know.” I looked at the marks on the wall and found the spot where I had marked with a “V” for Valerie. Counting down the weeks, I looked back at Nicky. “Wow. I guess it’s been a few months at least. Maybe four?”

“You haven’t had a period in four months?” She looked at me, like she expected me to get what she was saying. I was drawing a blank. “You’ve been sick almost every day since I got here. When did that start?”

I still wasn’t getting what she was on about. “I don’t know exactly when, but I told you about the escape when I got hurt. I have been sick off and on since then. I think my body is just worn out and too stressed to function normally.”
Nicky looked at me like I was crazy. “Lila, do you think you might be pregnant?”

I started to laugh at the absurdity of that thought and the reality hit me. I wasn’t dying, I was having morning sickness. But no, it wasn’t possible. “There’s no way,” I said, my hand already going to my stomach. I thought I was just gaining weight from the unhealthy food and lack of exercise. “I couldn’t be, it isn’t possible.”

Nicky just sat next to me and took my hand. “Lila, I think you need to be real about this.”
“But he nearly killed me! He dragged me down the stairs and beat me! There is no way a baby would have survived all of that.” Even as I said it, my hand curved around the small bump I could feel low in my belly.

“I’ve heard of stranger things; babies can survive an awful lot.” She just took my free hand and held it. I think she knew I was feeling a bit scattered and unprepared for this news.

“But I can’t be. I can’t be pregnant. Not down here! Not with… him.” My last words were a whisper. My mind was racing. A baby. I was going to have a baby. In this prison of a cellar. With a rapist. A moaning sound started coming from my mouth. “Oh god, oh god, no. No. Not like this…”

I wanted to bury myself in the blankets and ignore this new change of events. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“Lila, it will be okay. We’re going to get you out of here.”

“HOW?” I cried, feeling a rush of adrenaline like never before. “How? You don’t know what I’ve already done! He won’t let us go, not ever! Now he’ll have my baby.” A crushing thought wracked me to the core. “What if it’s a girl? Nicky, what if it’s a girl and he takes her and he…” I couldn’t even speak the thought. My hands both curled around the nearly invisible baby bump, the growing child inside of me suddenly became so much more real, and the threat to her was far greater than any other thing in the world. It was so much more devastating than anything he could have done to me, or Nicky, or even Valerie. This was an innocent child, and I had no doubt that he wouldn’t care at all. He could do anything he wanted to us, to me, to the baby. I cried out with the pain of that thought and felt myself wanting to go numb, to float away to the place where nothing hurt anymore. Where I couldn’t hurt or feel anything.

Nicky grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “No, Lila, you can’t run away. Not anymore. We have to start making a plan. If he finds out that you’re pregnant, we have no idea what he’ll do. We have to get our shit together, and I need you to stay focused with me. We can do this. Together.” She rested her hand on the hand curved over my baby bump. “We can do this for her. Or him. This just gives us more reason to fight. Are you with me?”

I nodded, feeling stunned into silence. I couldn’t believe it didn’t occur to me that I might be pregnant. I thought back over the last months, staring at the marks on the wall, trying to remember how long it had been. I wasn’t sure if I had a period during the week or so when I’d been laid up after my escape attempt. I had been so out of it that I had barely been conscious. Surely, I would have noticed.

I counted the marks again and again. I could be nearly four months pregnant right now.

“Holy crap, Nicky. I could be having a baby in just five or six months! We have to get out of here.” I felt so helpless. We were even more determined to leave, but nothing had changed. There wasn’t going to suddenly be a way out because we had a new reason to want to leave. Nicky and I sat on the edge of the mattress, both lost in our own thoughts for a good long while.

I finally got hungry again and pulled out the most recent bag of food. I laid everything out like we were on a fancy picnic outing, and we sat and ate without talking. I could tell Nicky’s mind was turning over every stone, looking for any ideas that might work to tip the scales in our favor.

I felt like I had been down here and had tried so many things that it was just hopeless. I should have had far more faith in Nicky.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

“So,” Nicky said, breaking the silence as we ate our food. “There are two of us, but now we need to be careful that he doesn’t notice,” she paused, and she waved towards my stomach, “your… changing form.”

“I don’t know how I can keep him from noticing anything, but he hasn’t noticed yet. Maybe we’re safe for now.” Still, even with the thought of him seeing me, knowing that I carried a child, my hand crept to cover my stomach with a protectiveness I’d never felt for anything before.

“You are probably safe for another month, but then I would think he couldn’t miss it. We have to take the attention off of you without him realizing it.” Nicky was deep in thought, her voice sounded almost far away as she talked and planned.

“How are we going to do that? He isn’t going to just let me go for no reason.”

She looked at me then. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to make sure that his attention stays on me.”

Understanding finally dawned on me. “No. Nicky, you can’t do anything dangerous. I couldn’t stand it if something happened to you.”

“It will be fine. I can handle it. I will keep his attention off of you.” She hopped up from the bed. “In the meantime, you’re going to have to start wearing more layers. Hide the fact that you’re only gaining weight in the belly area. She tossed a lightweight sweater to me, which I put on over my clothes. Thankfully, there was always a chill down here in the cellar, so it wasn’t odd to be wearing several layers.

“So, I guess this probably means that I’m not dying of internal injuries then.” I wrapped my arms around myself, still unable to believe this was happening. I wanted to cry for the dreams I had lost, the entire life that now fell into the past, yet another thing about my life ‘Before’ that would never be the same.

My first child would be from trauma, from devastation. How could I raise a child born from this? My mind couldn’t accept it. I didn’t know what to make of any of it. I had wanted to be a mom, to get married and have children for as long as I could remember. I had dreams of meeting the love of my life, of a big wedding. Dreams of finding out we were expecting our first child together. None of that would ever happen. Not now. Everything had changed. I was so angry, so deeply grieving yet another aspect of my life… and yet… there was a baby. Now. Inside of me. I had a life growing inside of me, and as much as this wasn’t the way I wanted this to happen, the child hadn’t asked for any of this. I didn’t know what to think. My mind was mired in confusion, utterly conflicting thoughts and feelings. I was already exhausted physically and mentally, I really didn’t know what to do with this new change. I had no idea where to go from here, especially since I had nowhere to go. I was still trapped, still a prisoner of this psychopath, still stuck in this cellar.

I looked at Nicky and I could see that her mind was a million miles away.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

It had been a week since he’d last attempted to take Nicky in the shower. I knew from past experience that he wouldn’t be waiting much longer to try something. He would be back to try again. He’d bring something new to the game, or he’d come in the dark when we were asleep.

My nerves were so on edge as I waited to see what was going to happen. I had vacillated between being hyper alert and being nearly comatose. I could not believe how utterly exhausted I was all the time. Although, I had always had the desire to have children, I always assumed I had plenty of time to learn more about it. Other than health class in school, I just assumed when I wanted to get pregnant, I’d just look on the internet and get the information I needed that way. Now, here I was with no information and every little thing made me wonder. Was this normal? Was that a good sign or a bad sign? Was that twinge just a growing baby or was there something wrong with him or her?

I grieved that I couldn’t ask my mother about things. I knew she was looking forward to being a grandma someday. I knew that she’d have been overjoyed to follow along with every aspect of my first pregnancy. Now, I wondered if I would ever be able to even tell her about it. If I would ever see her again or be able to have my child meet their grandparents. A new level of grief hit me like a crashing wave. I recoiled from the shock of it. My family was torn apart, and, now, here was yet another reminder of how completely my life had been ripped apart and destroyed. Even if I somehow miraculously managed to survive this, to escape with my life and the life of my child, how would anything ever be right again?

I couldn’t deal with anything just then. I wanted to give up, to curl up into a ball and just quit. My body was exhausted from all of the physical tolls that it was going through; my mind, my heart, and my emotions were so drained at that point, I really wasn’t sure how I would find the will or the strength to go on.

Once again, I let myself escape through sleep.

And, once again, my mother came to me. She gave me the words I needed to hear. She loved me enough to break through my sadness and emotional walls. In my dreams, she was there. She was so happy that I was still alive.

“My baby girl,” she said. Her voice was clear as day. I smiled in my sleep, wishing I could reach out and hug her. “I just want you to know that I love you and my heart is breaking to be so far from you. I love you so much, and I am so proud of you for surviving all of this. We all miss you and love you, and I am still looking for you, every day. We will not give up on finding you. Just hold strong. Hold on.”
“Mom, you don’t understand,” I tried to speak, but my words came out garbled, so soft, I was sure she wouldn’t hear me.

Her voice broke through the haze of my sleep and into my dreams again. “Oh, sweetheart, I know about the baby. I will love this baby as much as I love you. She is beautiful and she needs you. Take care of yourself, protect yourself, and, when the time comes, you will be free. I have seen it. I know I will see you again.”

And with that, she left a kiss on my cheek. The scent that was so distinctly her filled my head as she came near. It dissipated and faded away, making me cry out. It was too soon. I needed my mom.

I woke up with my hands out, reaching for her still. Tears were on my face and I would have sworn that I could still smell her in the air. I rolled over and hugged my pillow, thinking over what she had said. Was it really just a dream? Or had my mother found a way to connect with me, through everything that had happened? I wondered at the strength of a mother’s love even as I thought about the little girl growing inside of me.

It was a little girl, for some reason my mother’s words struck true, and I knew that she was right. I was carrying a baby girl.

And I would escape.

I sat up then, looking around in somewhat of a daze. Nicky sat on a pile of blankets, her back resting up against the post in the middle of the room. She was obviously meditating, still and quiet. I watched her for a bit before saying anything. I didn’t want to interrupt her quiet, but I was fascinated by the strength I saw in her. She was what I wanted to be.

Nicky was small, but fierce. She somehow managed to look intimidating as hell, even sitting there at peace with her legs crossed and a serene look on her face. It made me wonder why he had chosen to take her. Surely, he could see that she wasn’t the type to go quietly. I wondered if he regretted his choice, and I knew that if he didn’t yet, he would soon. She was going to be the driving force in taking him down. Nicky was going to be the thing that made our escape possible. I was still watching her with something akin to awe when she opened her eyes and met mine. She smiled and a warmth flowed through me that I’d never felt before. A wave of security, or strength. A knowing that she was going to save us.

I smiled back and moved over as she came back to bed. She wrapped her arms around me and held me tight. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered into my ear. “You, me, and the baby makes three. We’re going to get out of here.” We slept.

It was dark when he came down. I realized that this was his habit. He’d leave me alone for the week he assumed I was on my period and then skulk down in the dark to sneak up on me and take what he wanted. I heard the key scrape in the lock and my entire body tensed.

I felt Nicky moving, she heard it, too. She whispered into my ear, “Go hide, quietly. Go in the bathroom or under the table. He won’t see you in the dark.”

We had discussed this already. I knew that it was important that he not discover the pregnancy. We had no idea what he would do about that, but neither of us wanted to find out. I hated to leave her, but I did as she asked. As silently as I could, I took a blanket and wrapped it around myself, crawling under the table even as I heard the door creak as he closed and locked it again. He was being extra careful now that there were two of us and neither of us were cuffed.

I heard his feet on the floor, his steps along the wall as he felt his way to the mattress in the dark.

I held my breath, my arms wrapped so tightly around me that my fingers felt numb from gripping my arms so hard. My little baby bump actually got in the way when I brought my knees up and that just made me more determined to stay silent. I heard him say something as Nicky feigned sleep, mumbling some semi-incoherent words when he came to the bed.

I heard the clink of metal and realized that he’d brought the cuffs back. He was probably afraid to approach her without them. I wanted to cover my ears as the sounds of a struggle began. Nicky was fighting him again, but he was determined this time. There was a loud smack and muffled cries followed by the click of the handcuffs latching. I held my breath, hating that I had no weapon, nothing to attack him with while he was distracted. I knew I couldn’t risk trying to fight him in the dark, with no plan, nothing to even hit him with. I was still so pathetically weak that I would just cause more problems. I tried not to hear as the sounds of his assault reached my ears. Nicky didn’t make even the slightest sound. I hoped that she was okay. As okay as a person can be in that situation. I felt the tears on my face as she sacrificed herself for me, for the safety of the baby I was carrying.

I wasn’t sure how it had happened, or why, but this baby seemed to be the impetus for change.

As soon as I heard him leave, I ran back to the bed. I felt for the key I kept hidden and unlocked the cuffs that he’d left on her. I could hear her trying to calm herself, to get her breathing under control, but I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know if I should hug her or comfort her, so I just said, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Don’t say that, just let me up.” Her voice was soft, controlled, but laced with a rage that I recognized. I moved back and let her go. Soon, I heard the shower running. I lay in the bed where my friend had just been raped. She had given up for my sake, and I didn’t know how to hold that responsibility on my shoulders at that point. I just had to accept that we were ready to do whatever it took to get a plan in place so that, together, we could beat him.

I stilled my mind and started going through ways to win. All I could think of was that if I had been able to find a weapon of any sort, I could have attacked him while he was distracted by her. We had to find a weapon of some sort. There had to be a way.

Nicky came back to bed and crawled in beside me. Before I could say a word, she whispered, her voice still shaking with fury, “I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to find a way to kill him. That is the only thing I want to hear right now, ideas on how we can beat that son of a bitch.”

I stayed still beside her, having no answers yet, nothing to offer as far as ideas of comfort. Eventually, she rolled over and put her arm around me. I curled up against her warmth and laced my fingers through hers. I wished that I could take away the pain for her, but I also knew in some part of me that her anger was going to save us. She wasn’t going to cower or give up; she was going to fight and I was going to be right next to her, every step of the way.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

The next day, we woke to the sound of his steps on the stairs. I quickly put the cuffs back on Nicky before he got to our door.

He stepped through the door, bringing us another boring tray of food. Nicky looked at him with disdain. “Any chance we could get some more fresh fruit? Vegetables? Something healthier than this slop?”

He looked at her and grunted something unintelligible.

“I asked if we could get some healthy food here. We’re both going to get sick from eating nothing but canned food and peanut butter. Hell, a burger would be a nice change, too. I think it’s the least you can do.”

“Okay,” he said quietly. It was odd to hear him sound so… complacent. It was as if Nicky had some sort of power over him.

“And take these damn cuffs off of me. They’re hurting my wrists, and I can’t even take a piss with them on.”

He slapped her. Out of nowhere. It was so unexpected that I jumped back. Nicky didn’t move a muscle. She sat there on the edge of the mattress, glaring at him. “Watch your mouth, girl.” His voice had a hard edge to it now. Apparently, she had went too far. I saw her struggling with the need to tell him off, to be the tough girl. Her jaw was twitching, bringing attention to the bright red mark his slap had left across her face. She met my eyes and they were full of fire. She was carrying so much hatred for him, I wasn’t sure she’d be able to remain calm, but she did.

She blinked and her whole face softened. I thought I saw tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said, hanging her head. “I just get so scared and so hungry. I’m sorry,” she repeated.

He grunted again, roughly grabbing her by the arm, lifting her, and turning her to unlock the cuffs. She looked at me and gave me a tight smile as he let her wrists go free. She turned and plopped back on the bed. “Thank you,” was all she said.

He watched us eat for a while, then turned and left without another word.

As soon as we heard the upstairs door close, I took her hand. “Let me see your wrists. They look pretty raw.” I stood up to go get something to clean her off with, but she held my hand steady.

“No, sit down; we need to plan. We have to find some way to overtake him. With the two of us, we should be able to do something. I know you’re pregnant, but if we could find something heavy, you could hit him while he’s distracted.” Her eyes flitted over the empty room, finding nothing and ending with a look of defeat.

I looked down at the tray with our food. It was a flimsy looking aluminum thing, that probably wouldn’t kill a fly. My eyes traced over the stone walls, following the same path Nicky had followed. There was nothing.

He had taken everything that could have been a weapon when I had tried to escape last time. There wasn’t even the metal from the bed frame.

Nicky got up and started walking around the room, tracing the stones on the walls with her hands. She seemed to be feeling each and every rock, and I finally realized what she was doing. This basement was old and looked like it was falling apart. Maybe one of the rocks could be pried loose. I jumped up and started on the other side of the room.

We felt every single rock, scraping at the mortar between each one with our fingernails. There were a few spots where the mortar was cracked and almost seemed like it could crumble, or be forced away with a tool of some sort. The problem being that we had no tools. Nothing past my tiny little nail that I used to scratch daily marks on the wall. Nicky had taken it and scratched at several places she found that might be loose enough, but it wasn’t even making a dent. We needed something better.

I kept trying spots with the nail while Nicky pored over every inch of the walls. When she had almost exhausted every inch, she got to the washer and dryer and moved them from the wall. There was nothing there, but there was some extra water damage that caused the exact thing we had been looking for. Damaged mortar surrounded a fairly large stone. It would take a lot of time and effort, but we were already stuck here anyway. We might as well take advantage of the situation. Nicky had me help her move the washer as far away from the wall as we could without the hoses coming undone. The washer was old and heavy as hell, but with the both of us, we could move it out far enough for one of us to squeeze behind it and work at chipping away the mortar. The location had the extra benefit of being hidden from view, so he would never know what we were doing.

The bad news was that we would have to move the washer back every time we heard him coming so he wouldn’t get suspicious. It was heavy and hard to move, but with the door at the top of the stairs and the lock on the door at the bottom of the stairs, we figured we would have time to put things back in place before he could get inside our cellar room. We felt a tiny ray of hope. Finally.

Nicky worked at the mortar, chipping away with the tiny nail until her hands cramped up and she couldn’t even hold onto it anymore. I took over and chipped away until my fingers were screaming at me. We went back and forth that entire afternoon, working diligently. We chipped away at it until neither of us could even grip the nail anymore. When we stepped back to view our handiwork, we were both more than a little disappointed at the absolute miniscule amount of progress we’d made. At this rate, it was going to take months to even get the rock loose.

It was starting to grow dark when we heard the upstairs door creak. Nicky ran over and we carefully moved the washer back in place. It was hard to do it in silence, with the weight of the thing wanting to scrape along the floor, but we did it just as we heard the key in the lock. Nicky pointed me toward the bathroom and she went to sit on the bed, grabbing a book to look busy.

He stepped inside with a grocery sack and held it up for her to see. “Here’s a present,” he said with his creepy smile plastered on his face. “Now come and say thank you.”

Nicky stood up. I watched her from inside the little bathroom as she walked over and reached for the bag. He held it up just out of her reach. She struggled with it, I could see that she wanted to rage at him, but she knew that she couldn’t. She had to keep it together. “Thank you,” the words were quiet, but I knew he heard them.

“That’s not a very nice thank you after all I’ve done for you.” His voice sent a chill through me. I recognized the almost singsong tone from before. The times when he seemed like he wasn’t quite himself. I shivered, wishing I could warn Nicky that something wasn’t right.

Nicky stepped closer, her head bowed, looking completely submissive in that moment. “Thank you, sir.” Her voice was louder this time.

He reached out and grabbed her by the neck, pulling her up against him. “That’s still not very nice, young lady. I expect a real thank you if you expect special favors from me.”

I could see her jaw twitching from where I was. I couldn’t take it, I stepped out of the bathroom, my bulky layers hiding my small bump. I wasn’t showing enough for him to notice. Not yet.

Nicky’s eyes flashed at me. She wanted me to stay away, but I couldn’t let her take him on alone right now. Not when he was in this space. I was scared for her. He wouldn’t handle her strength well when he was in this space. I couldn’t stand it if he really injured her.

“Thank you!” I made my voice sound thrilled, as if I was truly excited for this gift. He turned to me and I saw the feverish look in his eyes. He looked me over and held out the bag to me. Just as I reached for it, he dropped the bag and grabbed me by my hair. His fist twisted in the long strands, and he pulled until I was nearly on tip toe. I cried out and my hands came up to pull at his hands, trying to release the pressure.

“Let her go!” Nicky was raging. I had made everything worse. Tears pricked my eyes as he pulled my hair even harder. I let my hands drop, knowing that fighting him would just make him do more damage.

Nicky came to my defense, but it was no use. He was so much stronger than even both of us together. He seemed almost superhuman when he was enraged. He grabbed her by the neck with his free hand and slammed her against the stone wall, knocking the breath from her. He dragged me over by my hair, holding both of us still. He twisted my hair until I felt like he was going to pull it all out by the roots. My scalp was on fire. He pulled me close to his face with a shout, “Get the cuffs, girl.” I hesitated and he raised his voice to a roar, “Put the cuffs on her, NOW.”

I reached for the cuffs he kept on his belt. I kept my movements as slow as I could, hoping not to incite more rage in him. I reached over and carefully cuffed Nicky’s hands in front of her. Our eyes met and we both took some small source of comfort from each other, in spite of the fact that we were in a horrible situation at the moment. I could almost feel the adrenaline racing through her body as I held her wrists to put the cuffs on. I knew it was costing her a lot not to react to him, to just let me cuff her and leave her helpless in front of him. I locked them both and stepped back, feeling his hand loosening in my hair. He turned to me. “So this is your little friend now? Is that it?” I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to answer, so I just nodded. He brought his hand back and then smacked her so hard that she fell to the floor. She didn’t make a sound when she hit, and I felt a pit of dread pooling inside of me. “I guess you both better learn to behave or you’ll both be sorry.”

He looked at me and the creepy singsong tone was back in his voice. “You wouldn’t want me to get rid of her now, would you?”

I took a step back and shook my head. My breathing was shallow as I watched her from the corner of my eye, looking for any sign of movement. My eyes flicked back to his and the look in his eye was like ice in my veins. He smiled and I felt a shudder wash over my body. He laughed at me. “Oh, you are worried about her, aren’t you? She was very bad, though, wasn’t she? I think I might have to punish her some more. You wouldn’t like that, would you?”

Tears came unbidden. I had made a mistake by coming out of the bathroom. I should have just let her deal with him, and now I had just made things so much worse. He looked back at her still form on the floor and back to me. “I asked you a question.”

I stammered, “No, I don’t want that. Please don’t hurt her.” He smiled at my answer. “Please.” I was willing to beg, to plead for her.

“Well, then, I guess you’d best be a good girl then.” He took a step towards me and it was all I could do not to run screaming, but I held steady. My hands wanted to cover my belly, they itched to add that small layer of protection, but I held them at my sides, unmoving. He came over and grabbed my hair again, pulling me close. His breath was on my face and I nearly gagged at the smell. He was so close. I held myself still, trying to stifle my crying, taking myself away in my mind as he pushed me towards the mattress on the floor. I let my glance slide over to where Nicky was on the floor. She still hadn’t moved, but I could see that she was breathing. He pushed me down on the bed and I closed my eyes, praying to some unseen deity that he wouldn’t notice my rounded stomach. That he wouldn’t put two and two together. I kept my eyes closed and my brain focused on some happy place far, far away as he pawed at me. I didn’t move until he was gone and I had counted his footsteps on the stairs leading away from my little cave of a prison.

Once the upstairs door creaked shut and I heard the lock click shut, I jumped up, grabbed my ratty old sweats he had tossed onto the floor, and put them back on. Even that task sent a wave of nausea through me. It was harder to ignore what was happening, or what had just happened, once he was gone. I couldn’t stay ‘away’ anymore. I swallowed the lump in my throat and ran to kneel by Nicky, who was lying so still on the floor.

I ran my hand over her head, feeling for a bump and found it. She had apparently hit her head on the wall or the floor, and there was a good sized lump on the back of her head. The skin around her eye was already dark; she was going to wake up in the morning with a nasty black eye. I gathered her up into my arms, pulled her onto my lap, and rocked back and forth with her.

I found that I wasn’t even sad this time; I wasn’t devastated or feeling beaten. I was angry. Livid. I felt the need for vengeance against this man. I didn’t just want to be free, I wanted him dead. It wasn’t even the kind of furious out of control rage that I had always thought went along with wanting revenge or wishing death on someone. This was more like a cold certainty that settled deep inside of me A kind of resolute feeling as I held Nicky’s still form. It wasn’t just about me. It wasn’t even just about Nicky, but now it was for all of us. Valerie deserved some vengeance, which she would never be able to take. Then me and Nicky. We were the ones who would get ourselves out of this. And we were the ones who would make sure he paid for all of the pain he had caused.

I had grown up in a family that was all about love and second chances. Hell, we didn’t even believe in the death penalty and here I was wishing death on someone. Wishing death and not feeling even a twinge of guilt about it. I wondered what my parents would think about that. Maybe after all of this, they would even agree with me. I found myself thinking not only about my own family and their reaction to this whole thing, but I also started wondering about Nicky’s family. She hadn’t said much about them yet. As a matter of fact, I couldn’t think of one thing she’d told me about them. Every time I asked her, she would change the subject. I would have to get that out of her. I felt a deep need to know more about her, to understand her better. She was so very different than me, and I wanted to know what made her tick.

It was almost completely dark before I felt Nicky stirring, she groaned in confusion and pain as she tried to sit up. I helped her up and over to the bed. She took some pain reliever and had some water before lying down. “What happened?”

“Nothing important. You just rest. We’ll work on our plan some more tomorrow. Go to sleep.” I crawled in beside her, wondering if I ever would have reached this point of determination without her here. I really didn’t think so. I felt her curling up around me, and we slept once again.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

The next day, we finally thought to look in the bag he’d brought down. It was half full of fruit and veggies. So he’d apparently listened to Nicky’s demands, but he thought he could use it for demands of his own. We ate the food in silence, not really sure what to say. We’d both paid the price for it, we both needed the nutrition, but neither of us could really enjoy it after everything that came with it.

We spent most of our waking hours chipping away at the mortar around our rock. We’d wait until he brought our food down in the morning, then move the washing machine as soon as he’d left for the day. He’d calmed down again and was back to just bringing us food and ignoring us the rest of the time.

We chipped away at the mortar until our fingers were literally bleeding. Nicky was getting frustrated with the lack of progress and it was starting to wear on me, too. After we chipped away at one loose section, the rest seemed to be even more solid than the rest of the walls.

It was all too much. We weren’t making any noticeable progress anymore. Nicky growled out something and threw the nail on the floor. She grabbed the cuffs that she kept clipped to one wrist and used that like a hammer, bashing away at the mortar. She was so frustrated that she was screaming at the wall, banging the cuffs against the wall, tears coming from her eyes. She finally gave up, sinking to the floor with her head in her hands.

I didn’t quite know how to react. I hadn’t seen Nicky cry since that first time back when he’d first brought her here. She’d been here over a month, she’d dealt with his abuse and the overwhelming fact that we were both trapped here with no real hope of escape, and, yet, she had never lost control. Now she was letting it all out. Her body shook with the force of her sobbing; she was crying, yelling obscenities, and just obviously torn several different directions.

I finally went over and helped her up, wrapping her in a hug while she cried on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled into my sweater. “I don’t cry. I don’t do this.”

“It’s okay, Nicky.” I almost smiled. “It’s not like this is a normal situation; you have every right to feel sad.”

She pulled back, tears still streaking down her face. “Well, damn it, I’m not sad. I’m pissed off. I’m frustrated that I haven’t figured out a way to escape. I’m angry that I haven’t been able to protect you or even figure that asshole out. I’m better than this, and I hate that he’s made me feel so fucking weak!” She stepped back and rapped the wall with the loose cuff once more. Nothing happened, not even a speck of dust fell from the wall. She growled. “Son of a BITCH!”

“Let’s take a break from it all, maybe we’ll get a better idea if we step away from it.” She helped me move the washer back, and we went to sit on the bed. I pulled out a bag of pretzels, which I’d saved from one of our food boxes, and we sat in silence, eating the stale snacks.

“These need chocolate, you know.” Nicky was obviously feeling a bit calmer. “Do you think I could talk that asshole into giving us some chocolate?”

“I don’t even want to think about what he’d expect in exchange for chocolate.” We both shuddered at that thought.

“I hate this.”

“I know,” I said. “I hate that I was becoming so complacent before you got here. I wasn’t happy with it, but I had no hope left. You are the reason I feel like we can actually leave. You are so much stronger than me.”

She shrugged. “I have a feeling that you and I have had vastly different lives until now.”

“Tell me about your family.” I had been wondering, and she had basically brought it up anyway.

She laughed, a dry, sarcastic sound. “My family? You mean my lack of family?”

I felt bad for asking. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I just wanted to know more about you.”

“Well, my family is shit. My mom was so strung out on drugs her whole life, I’m still not sure who my father is. I lived with my grandparents off and on until they died, then I just lived in foster homes.” She looked around. “As a matter of fact, this is pretty much just like a shittier version of some of my foster homes. The only difference is that I really can’t leave this one. At least in the others, I could run away.”

I suppose I had known that her home life hadn’t been great. I mean, no one avoids subjects over and over when they’re pleasant and fun to talk about. “I’m sorry,” I said.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault. Life isn’t fair; I know that better than anyone.” She shrugged and took another pretzel. “If my life experience is what gets us both out of here, then I’ll take that as a good thing. It’s better than thinking all of it was just for nothing.”

“True. I suppose that’s one way to look at it.” I dumped the last of the pretzels out and was staring at the bag. Something was percolating in my mind, a thought or an idea that felt important, but I couldn’t quite wrap my brain around it. I was thinking about food and there was a thought nagging at me. Poking at me. I must have been completely spacing out because eventually I heard Nicky trying to talk to me. She sounded far away until I actually focused.

“Lila.” She waved her hand in front of my face. “Are you in there?”

“Spoon,” I said.

“Spoon?” She took the bag from my hands. “Spoon? I’m getting concerned about you.”

“We need spoons. Metal spoons. For tools.”

Nicky stopped and considered for a second. “That is fantastic. Spoons aren’t threatening. He wouldn’t think of us using them for anything.”
“Right?” I said, getting more excited at the idea. “He would never give us a knife, or probably even a fork, but if we asked for something that would use a spoon, maybe he wouldn’t think twice about it.”

“And that would give us more leverage for digging out the mortar for the real weapon.” Nicky was practically vibrating with energy.

“We just need to find a way to ask for something that would use a spoon, and then, hopefully, distract him from taking the spoons back when we’re done.” It seemed like such a small thing, but I couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope at that plan.

I laughed then, and Nicky gave me a strange look. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it. I’m just so excited that my stomach is doing somersaults. I swear you could probably feel it if…” I stopped talking, feeling that odd sensation low in my stomach again. “Nicky, I think the baby is moving.” I broke out in goosebumps all over. This was such a foreign sensation, but there was no mistaking it now.

Nicky sat across from me, her eyes wide. “You can feel it moving in there?” I saw her hand lift as if she wanted to feel it, too, but she wasn’t sure.

“Do you want to see if you can feel it?” I asked.

She met my eyes and smiled. “Okay.” She placed her hand on my little baby bump, and I put my hand over hers. We sat that way for a while, but the baby was still.
“Apparently you calmed her right down,” I said with a grin.

Nicky smiled and sat back against the wall. “I can’t believe there is a real live human growing inside of you. It’s so surreal. How does it feel? Is it weird?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, sort of. I mean, I just can’t quite believe it most of the time.” I felt the weight of our situation weighing on me suddenly. “I’m too scared when I do think about it. I never expected it to happen like this.”

“I don’t think anyone expects something like this, but you’re doing what you can.” She laced her fingers through mine and squeezed my hand. “We’re going to get her out of here. Before she’s out of there,” she added, pointing to my stomach. “I love you and all, but there is no way I want to help deliver a baby!”

I laughed. “You don’t want to help? How do you think I feel?” I paused, frowning a bit. “How far along do you think I am? I mean, I didn’t think I would already be feeling her move. What if…” I let my words trail off. I felt absolutely frozen at the thought of going into labor down in this creepy cellar, with no medical attention, with no idea what to do.

“I don’t know, when was your last period again?” Nicky moved over to the marks on the wall. I had pretty much arranged them by month, in groups of around thirty. I could never remember which months had how many days, so I pretty much just did the best I could. Nicky put a circle around the week that I thought hit my last period. Counting up until what we thought was today, I was just over five months pregnant. I put my hands over my belly. Five months. That meant I only had about four months left.

“Nicky, we have to get out of here. I can’t have a baby down here.” I could feel my blood pounding in my veins. The hysteria was building and I was winding up into a big ball of anxiety.

“Listen, we’re doing what we can. We will work on getting new tools the next time he comes down. Until then, you need to try to relax. We will be out of here in a month, tops. That gives all three of us plenty of time before she’s on the outside.” She helped me up. “Why don’t you go take a shower and relax a bit. I’ll clean up and actually make use of that heavy ass washing machine. Then you can practice telling bedtime stories when you’re done. All good moms tell bedtime stories, right?” She nudged me to the bathroom and I went. The hot water would feel good and I did need to get my mind off of things.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

The next day, he came down with our food. I pretty much hid my belly behind the blankets piled on my lap when he brought the food over. Nicky and I had discussed how we should ask for something different. He seemed to actually listen when Nicky was demanding, but, then again, sometimes it just seemed to make him rage more the next time we saw him. I didn’t want to draw any more of his attention to me, so I stayed quiet and Nicky did her best impression of someone sweet.

We had determined that it had to be somewhere in the beginning to middle of September by now. It was starting to cool off even more down in the cellar, so Nicky asked if we might have some nice hot soup for our meals sometimes. She made a point to suggest that canned beef stew was her favorite, just so that it would still be easy enough for him to get for us. We didn’t want him to have any excuses.

He seemed really distracted lately and we hoped that worked in our favor. He hadn’t done anything other than to drop off food for days. He hadn’t even bothered to torment us at all; he barely seemed to notice we were even there. I suppose he had something out in the real world going on. Thankfully, that just seemed to make him think about it even less. He listened to our suggestion and left without a word.

We weren’t sure that he’d even heard us, but it actually worked. Two days later, he actually brought us a treat. We got two large bowls of soup, complete with two good sized soup spoons. Having something different to eat was so nice that we almost forgot the point of the spoons. We had bread and stew, which took a bit of the chill from the air. At least, in our minds it did. Maybe it was actually the spark of hope that made a difference. I don’t think we cared what the reason was, we just wanted the change.

As soon as we were done eating, Nicky and I ran over and moved the washer out of the way. She started scraping and digging at the mortar with the heavy spoon and it worked! It wasn’t as good as an actual hammer and chisel or anything, but it was far superior to the tiny nail or the edge of the handcuffs.

Nicky scraped away with her spoon until I got impatient to try it myself. She moved out of the way and I dug at the mortar for a while. There was still a long way to go, but this was definitely making a much bigger dent.

Having even this slight change, this spark of hope, really energized us both. I was well past the exhaustion and morning sickness part of things, so I was already feeling better. We barely felt the need to sleep, we were so sure this was going to be our out. Having a nice solid rock as a weapon, well, it was the best we were going to find. All we needed was to get it loose, hide it, and wait for him to come down. Nicky would distract him and while he was busy, I would come up behind him and smash the rock right over his head. He would never be expecting that. Not from me. I’d been pretty complacent for months now. He had to think that I was too weak and cowardly to try something like this.

We’d started to test our theory when he did come down in a bit of a rage. Nicky would send me to the bathroom where I could stay out of sight, and she would antagonize him long enough to get him angry and distracted. Just enough so that he wasn’t even thinking about me at all, not enough that he lost control and beat her. She let him think that everything was exactly the same, and he seemed to get some sort of sick pleasure out of the fact that she always fought him. He didn’t seem to even care if I was there at all anymore. I could walk through the room and he wouldn’t even notice. Nicky and I were counting down the days until the rock was free enough to get it out of the wall. Everything was in place except for that. The damn rock seemed like it was frozen in place, like the sword in the stone or something. Still, we worked at it every day. Chipping away all around the thing until, one day, it finally budged.

Nicky squealed in delight. “Lila! Come here!”

I ran over to see her with both hands on the rock. She was moving it! Just a tiny bit, but it was loose! “Finally!” I grabbed her and wrapped her in a huge hug. I was elated. We hugged and practically danced around the room together. It had been a solid month or so of trying to get that rock loose, and, finally, the end was in sight!

Just then the baby kicked. She kicked so hard that even Nicky felt it. She jumped back. “Was that her?” She looked down at my ever growing bump in wonder. We both put our hands over my belly and, sure enough, she moved again, thumping and turning around like she was on some sort of amusement park ride.

Nicky and I both started laughing and hugged again. I was so relieved, there was just so much emotion flooding through me, it was so much of everything. I swear, being pregnant had made me feel everything amplified ten times more than normal. I was so happy, but suddenly there were tears pouring down my face.

Nicky immediately pulled back. “Lila? What’s wrong?” Her hand went to my belly again. “Is it the baby?”

I smiled through the tears. “I don’t think so. I’m just a mess. I’m so relieved, but I’m so damn scared.” I went and sat down on the bed. “I mean, what the hell am I going to do? I don’t know what I’m doing! I’m excited but terrified. What if something goes wrong? I swear I just have a million worst case scenarios going through my head and getting excited about this thing, just brings up everything else. I’m such a mess,” I finished, looking up at her concerned face. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, really. I’m sorry.”
Nicky smiled. “Well, it seems like you’re just a normal pregnant woman. I’ve never known any who didn’t cry about the weirdest stuff.” She patted my hand, which still rested on my stomach. “You’re doing fine. Moms are supposed to worry and stress about stuff. You’re already doing your job and she’s not even out here yet!”

I laughed. Nicky had a way of making me feel better, and a way of finding the humor in things. That was just what I needed right now.

“How about we take a break from the rock and go to bed early tonight. I’ll read a chapter of your favorite smutty book if you want.” She knew those romances were my guilty pleasure. So silly, reading about the typical fairy tale type romances when we were stuck down here. Now I was adding a baby and my own trauma to the mix. I wasn’t sure I would ever have that kind of romance in my life. Not after all this.

That was a topic we didn’t talk about much, what was going to happen ‘After’ we escaped. I was really curious what Nicky had to go back to, but I was afraid she was just going to move on without me. We’d only known each other for two months, but I already felt closer to her than any friend I’d ever had. I couldn’t imagine my life without her. I knew for a fact that there would never be anyone out there who would understand me the way she did, not after everything we’d been through.

Of course, the very fact that we had this shared experience could be the thing that made her want to distance herself from me. Why would she want to stay in contact with a fellow prisoner? I thought to myself. I felt a wave of sadness wash over me at the thought of all the changes, all of the loss, we would both go through. I didn’t want her to be one of the things I lost, but I was too scared to talk to her about it. I told myself that I would definitely bring it up, but later. When we were closer to being free.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

It took another week of working at the rock before we could actually get it free. Both of our spoons were worn down to stubby points by that time. All of the work we’d done with them had bent and mangled the old spoons so they weren’t even recognizable anymore.

We managed to get the rock loose and out of the hole the same day that he stopped coming down for the week. I was so frustrated that I nearly cried when I woke up to find the ‘period week box’ just inside the door. The damn man was going to be gone for at least the next five days. We were SO close. I screamed in frustration, almost wishing that the noise would bring him back downstairs.

Nicky tried to calm me down. “Lila, this is actually good. It is a really good thing. He’s always so desperate after a week away, it is perfect. He’ll be so easy to distract this way. We can have this week to practice and walk through our plan.” She grabbed my arms, her face looking fierce and intense. “This is good! Remember that. We have a week to rest up and we will be ready. Now, go get that rock and make sure you can lift it high enough to smash his head in with it!”

I went and got the rock. We moved the washing machine back up against the wall so that you couldn’t even see that anything was missing or different. I set the rock right inside the bathroom door. As long as he didn’t decide to randomly go into the bathroom, it would be the perfect place for it. I’d gotten in the habit of waiting in the bathroom when he came down anyway, so it wouldn’t seem strange to him if I was in there yet again.

Nicky made me actually practice carrying the rock in silence, then lifting it and throwing it onto the mattress as if it was his head. Of course, I wouldn’t actually throw it at the time, but we didn’t need me injuring my back trying to pretend to hit him on the head with the heavy rock, either. We had everything planned down to the last detail. Nicky knew what she was going to say to grab and keep his attention. I knew I had to wait until he was completely distracted by her before I came out.

The thought of letting him just attack her, beat her, or rape her even one more time to accomplish this attack made me ill. Nicky just shrugged it off, but I knew from my own experience that no matter how often it happened, no matter how good you got at making yourself go away in your mind, it was still devastating. It was like some part of you was taken each and every time. It was her choice, though, and I think we both knew it was the best way to guarantee that he was distracted and at his weakest. There was no other way to do it.
I suppose that was why we were so intent on making sure that things went right this time. We knew we only had one chance.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

He was gone for eight days in a row. We were running out of food and starting to panic just a little. He always came down after five or six days, but now he was a day late.

“What if he tried to take another girl and got caught? Do you think someone would know where to find us?” Nicky’s imagination may have been even better than mine. Maybe worse was the right way to put it, actually.

“I don’t know. Surely they would know to look for us. Right?” My mind was spinning through all the things that could have happened, but Nicky was on the same track.

“What if he had a heart attack or a car accident? No one would think to look for us. Maybe not for days.”

We were both a ball of stress. Nicky refused to eat any of the remaining food, insisting that I needed it more for the baby. I wanted to argue, but I was terrified that we were really, truly stuck as well.

We spent part of that day just in silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts. The baby was doing cartwheels the whole time. I wondered if she felt my stress or what. We had to get out of here.

“Maybe we should try to get out,” I said after a long silence.

“Get out?” Nicky looked at me like I was crazy. Of course we wanted to get out.

“Yeah, I mean, if he’s gone somewhere, maybe we could use the rock to bash through the door and just escape before he even comes back.”

Nicky’s eyes lit up at that. She looked thoughtful. “You know, we haven’t even heard footsteps even once for days. You might be onto something.” She got up and walked over to where we had the big rock stashed. She picked it up and hefted it in her hands as if weighing it. “I think it might be good enough.” She walked over to the door and I went over to join her. We both looked from the rock to the old doorknob. I reached out and rattled it. It was pretty solid for being so old, but the rock was really heavy. We looked at each other and back to the rock.

“You have to try it,” I finally said.

I watched as she lifted the rock up and brought it smashing down on the old doorknob. The knob bent just a little. Nicky looked at me with a determined smile and lifted the rock again. She brought it down, smashing the old door, bending the knob even further. I heard the wood splinter just a little, and she looked at me with hope in her eyes. “Do you think it’s working?”

“Yes! Do it again!” She brought it down once again and more wood splintered as a crack appeared around the old knob, which still held firm. “Again!” She smashed it with a loud grunt of effort and the door knob broke off, the wood around it splintered into a deep crack.

I tried to pry the door open with my fingers, but the solid old door still wouldn’t move. We were both a bit frantic at that point. I think we realized our mistake. If he did come back now, there was no way for us to hide the fact we had found or made some sort of weapon or tool. Nicky looked at me, the knowledge of the mistake clear in her eyes. We had to make this work. “Move,” was all she said. I stepped back a few paces.

She brought the rock down in a swinging motion, right against the place where the doorknob used to be. There was a resounding crack, but the door held steady. She smashed it again and again until tears of frustration poured down her face. “FUCK!” she screamed and dropped the rock to the floor, sinking down beside it.
“No! We can’t stop. Give it to me.” Nicky just shook her head, her face buried in her hands. “Nicky! Give me the rock! I’ll try.”

“It’s no use. This door is solid and we’re not getting out. We’re fucking trapped and now he’ll know! I’ve ruined everything!” Nicky was sobbing so hard. I felt completely helpless. I kept prying at the door with my hands until my fingers were raw and bloody. Nicky finally pulled me away.

“Leave me! I can do it!” I screamed at her. I think the panic had overtaken us both at that point. We knew he was going to see this damage and neither of us had any doubt at how he’d react. We would be lucky if he didn’t just kill us both right then.
We fell into each other’s arms and cried.

I finally got up and helped Nicky to her feet. It was getting dark and we needed to at least clean up the worst of the mess. I picked up the broken doorknob and the splinters of wood that had come loose from the door. Nicky picked the rock up and carried it to the bed.

“The only chance we have is if the door still unlocks from the outside,” she said, her mind still trying to find a solution. “If the door opens from the outside, we’ll just have to distract him before he tries to lock it from in here.”
“He doesn’t lock the downstairs’ door when he comes down at night. I don’t think he bothers because he knows that the upstairs’ door is locked. He also knows that we know that, since my first escape ended so badly.”

She let out a heavy sigh. “Well then, I guess we just have to hope that he comes here at night. Either way, we need our rest if we have any chance of beating him.” She sat down on the mattress and pulled back the covers. “Come on, little mama. Let’s try to get some sleep.” She was keeping her voice light, but I could hear the defeat in her voice. I knew we were both thinking the same thing.

If only we had waited for him to come back. We could have went with our original plan and we could be free. If only…

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

It wasn’t long after it got dark when we heard him on the stairs. It was as if we’d conjured him up with the power of our thoughts and stress. I knew we were both beating ourselves up. We would have only had to wait a few more hours.

“Get up, get the rock, and be ready,” Nicky whispered into my ear. I moved silently, hoping the door would work well enough so he didn’t notice anything. I got the rock and crouched down in the corner of the room, where not even the slightest hint of light reached. I breathed a sigh of relief as I heard the door creak as he opened it, obscenities flowing freely as he slammed the door behind him.

His footsteps slowly worked along the edges of the room towards the mattress. I heard Nicky mumble something as if she were sleeping and then a cry of pain.

“Where is she?” His voice was harsh, no room for questioning.

“I…” We weren’t expecting this. I knew Nicky had no idea what to say. “I think she must have went to the bathroom.”

“Get her.”

“But, but I’m right here.” I heard her voice change as she whispered something that I couldn’t hear. I knew what she was doing. She wanted to keep him away from me and keep him occupied so that I could follow through with the plan. Even in the dark, we had a plan. I heard her cry out in pain again.

“I said get her. Now.” I heard her shuffling and then her feet dragging on the floor as she took her time making her way to the bathroom. I stood and tried to move toward her as silently as I could. We were against the walls in the shadows and there was a big change in plans. A change in plans and no time to discuss anything. He hadn’t paid attention to me in the last month, or maybe even two. We had not expected this.

“Lila,” she called out to me, in spite of me standing right near her. I thrust the rock at her and felt her wrap her hands around it. The plan was shifted, but we both knew that thanks to our earlier fiasco with the door. We had to take the chance. It would likely be the last chance we had.

I slowly made my way back to the bed. My skin crawled at the thought of him touching me. My hands went to my belly in a protective mode. I tried to keep my breathing even and steady. I wasn’t sure how he was going to react when he noticed my growing stomach. I was big enough now at six months or so, there was no way he would miss it. I felt tears in my eyes as I whispered in silent apology to my little girl. I dreaded his reaction, whatever it was, it was certainly not going to be good.

I stepped close enough that I bumped into him without realizing it. He reached out and grabbed my arm in his vise-like grip. I stifled a cry as he pulled me to him. I smelled his breath as he leaned down to kiss me, his hands sliding down my arms. I froze in place as he ran his hands over my body. I felt him still as he reached my stomach. He didn’t move, his hands on my baby bump. I felt the baby start to kick and tumble and my mind screamed at her to be still.

He started to laugh. A dry rasping chuckle at first, and then full blown laughter. He grabbed me and wrapped his arms around me, squeezing me so tight that I could barely breathe.

I felt his body slide downwards, his head resting on my stomach. I felt tears racing down my face in spite of feeling numb down to my toes. He knew about the baby. He knew and our plans were over. He was going to find out now. It was too dark at the moment, and I knew that Nicky wouldn’t take a chance of hitting me in the attempt to take him down. I thought I heard her moving over by the door, but I couldn’t be sure.

He suddenly jumped back up and grabbed me by the shoulders, shaking me. “We’re going to have a baby!” His voice was amping up in just those few words. I could tell he was edging into the singsong voice, and I was terrified. I had no idea what to do. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, sounding like he was teasing. “I know, you wanted it to be a surprise!” His voice was definitely into high pitched, crazy mode. I felt a chill sinking over me as he started to sing, “I’m going to be a daddy. A daddy… a daddy…” He wrapped his arms around me again and I could literally feel his body vibrating. “We’re going to have a baby! We’ll be so happy!” I stood there, frozen to my very soul. I had no idea how to safely get out of this mess now. The only tiny relief was that he seemed excited at the idea of a baby. At least he wasn’t angry. At least he wasn’t going to just kill me. He pulled me down to the bed and tucked me in, his voice still making me cringe. He was whispering to himself, almost like he was talking to someone else. I could barely hear him, but he still had that high pitched voice as he tucked the blankets around me. “You said I’d never have a wife, you said I’d never have a family, but I am, I AM going to have my very own family!” I had no idea who he thought he was talking to, but he was practically on top of me.

I held my breath, wondering if Nicky was going to smash the rock over his head in the dark and take her chances or not. I was afraid I would end up being smashed by the rock instead, he was being so unpredictable. Maybe she was waiting to surprise him at the door to the stairs. My mind was racing as he finished tucking the blankets around me like I was a child, planting a kiss on my forehead. “Get some sleep, my sweet wife. I will bring you a big surprise tomorrow for this wonderful news!” He sounded as thrilled as a normal parent as he stood up and practically ran to the stairs. I waited to hear a scuffle, holding my breath as I listened to his footsteps racing across the room.

I wanted to vomit just from his nearness. The way he talked to me like we were a normal couple made my skin crawl. I wrapped myself tighter in the blankets and tried to erase the sound of his voice from my brain as the icy chill settled into my bones. I was so glad he hadn’t gotten violent, but I wondered if this was maybe worse. If he really thought of me as his wife and this as our child, would he just become more diligent about guarding me? Would this make it even harder to escape, or maybe easier? Maybe he’d let me come upstairs now that he thought things were more normal?

I couldn’t think about it anymore. I could already hear my heart thumping in my chest and the baby inside of me was reacting to the stress. Surely that wasn’t good for her. I strained my ears, listening for Nicky. I knew she had to have heard his reaction. Would she still try something? Or would she wait so we could plan and regroup? I was so completely exhausted from everything, I felt myself being overtaken by sleep.

Suddenly, Nicky’s voice broke through the fog of exhaustion. “Lila! Are you okay? I don’t know what to do! He just ran out and shut the door behind him like he always does, but he didn’t bother to lock it. I should have hit him, but it was so dark, I couldn’t see a thing. I didn’t expect him to be moving that fast. He was already past me by the time I was in place. I’m sorry, I couldn’t bring myself to hit him when he was with you. I was too scared that I would hit you instead.”

I reached for her, grabbing her hand and pulling her to me. “Don’t take the chance, please. Come to bed, I really need…” I wasn’t even sure what I needed at that point, but I wanted her close. She crawled into the bed and curled around me, the warmth of her body seeping into mine and warming me up from the inside out. I felt tears in my eyes once again. I felt so much better when she was near.

I felt her hand reach down and rest on my stomach. The baby kicked and then settled down. I put my hand on hers and squeezed it.

“We’ll be okay, Lila. I promise.” Her whispered words comforted me like nothing else, and I couldn’t even begin to explain why.

“Thank you,” I whispered. I felt safe.

I felt my mom once again. She wrapped herself around both Nicky and I. I could feel her warmth, that she was proud of me, that she loved me and the baby. I felt Nicky squeeze me before she went still as she fell asleep. I smiled into the dark, feeling like somehow, some way, everything was going to be okay after all.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

I woke up the next day to banging and thumping down the stairs. Nicky rolled over with a question in her eyes, but I had no idea what was going on. Suddenly, the door at the bottom of the stairs flew open with a bang, and he practically leapt into the room. He was apparently still on his big ‘high’ from the night before; he was practically vibrating with energy. He turned and dragged something through the door while Nicky and I were still sitting in bed, feeling quite confused by it all.

He pushed the thing into the room and I saw it was a bassinet. A very old bassinet. He was glowing with triumph as if he’d just won the lottery. “Look!” he crowed.

Nicky and I looked at each other and then to the bassinet. Apparently, we were supposed to be excited, so we both gave him big smiles. Nicky shrugged and whispered under her breath, “At least he’s happy. This might be easier to work with than his pissed off side.” I had to agree. In his current state, he seemed like he might be open to suggestions. Like letting us move upstairs. Of course, the fact that he’d brought a baby’s bassinet down here didn’t bode well for that plan. Still, I’d much rather deal with him in this mental space than his normal one.

He still hadn’t noticed the broken doorknob. I was holding my breath waiting for that explosion, but he was totally focused on the bassinet. He reached in and pulled out a bag of clothes and tossed it to me. I opened it to find old baby clothes, which smelled of mildew, or maybe it was mothballs. I wasn’t quite sure, but the potent smell made my eyes water. Mostly blue things, little knitted booties and a sweater. I didn’t want to show any kind of excitement, but I was struggling. The baby clothes were so sweet and cute. I was actually picturing an actual, real life baby for the first time. Until now, it was almost surreal, like I knew there was a baby growing inside of me, but I hadn’t really thought about her being out. I couldn’t bring myself to think of having a baby in this situation. I held a tiny white sweater in my hands and burst into tears. I couldn’t help myself. I was sobbing, thinking about my little girl being born and trapped down here with us.

I felt Nicky’s arm come around me, but I couldn’t stop crying.

“Don’t you like the clothes?” I heard his voice through the fog of sadness that was wrapped around me. “They were my clothes when I was a baby! Mine and my brother’s.” I heard him stomping across to the bed and I flinched. “Are you saying these aren’t good enough? Is that it?” His voice was quickly turning hard and angry. He reached and ripped the sweater out of my hands.

Nicky jumped into the conversation. “No, of course not! I’m sure she loves them, but you know how pregnant women are. They just get overly emotional about things. These are happy tears!”

I felt him hesitate. I looked up through my tears and tried to calm myself. We could work with this, but I couldn’t afford to make him angry straight out of the gate. If I could just get my emotions under control, surely we could use this to our advantage.

“I’m sorry,” I said, wiping my tears away and reaching for the sweater. “I love it. It’s a beautiful sweater. Did your mom make it for you?”
He looked at me suspiciously, almost like a child might. “No. My grandma made them for us.”

“The clothes are very nice. She must have loved you very much,” I said, finding it hard to even pretend as thoughts of my own family overwhelmed me. Maybe this would be the key to getting out of here. If he was close to his family, he might understand.

He suddenly got very quiet and it was almost like a door slammed shut over his emotions. He stood up and left the room, slamming the door behind him and stomping up the stairs. We heard the key turn in the lock above, followed by his footsteps fading away and a door slamming. Soon thereafter, we heard the faint sounds of his truck rumbling to life and pulling away.

Nicky and I looked at each other. We weren’t quite sure what to do with that.

“Well,” she said. “At least he was too distracted to notice the broken door?”

I stood up. “I guess that’s better than any other alternative. Let’s see if he brought food because I am starving.”
Thankfully, the bassinet also had a bag full of food. Food for us and baby food that looked like it had been sitting in someone’s pantry for fifty years. He was really into this whole baby idea. I felt a shiver run down my spine at the thought of him even getting near my baby.

Nicky read my mind. “Don’t worry, Lila. We’re getting out of this place long before she gets here.” She rested her hand on my belly. “I promise you, she won’t even have to know he exists.”

I tried to slow my breathing, taking in a deep breath and trying to think positive thoughts. “I know. I’m trying to be reasonable. But I’m thinking that maybe we can work with this…” I gestured at the bassinet and the baby clothes. “This whole thing he has going on. Right? Am I being crazy?”

“No, I don’t think you’re being crazy at all.” She pulled out a bag of chips and some bread. “I’ll make the peanut butter sandwiches, if you want to dig out our side dishes?” She gave me a wry smile. We were a little too used to this food ‘service,’ and I was very thankful that I at least had vitamins to add to our very sparse diet.

We were eating a few minutes later. “So what do you think that reaction was about?” I asked. I figured that we needed to find the safe things to talk about to make him think we were just one big happy family.

“I’m not sure, but I guess we don’t ask about his family again. We can just talk about this baby for now.” She raised an eyebrow. “I mean, obviously there is something not right about the guy, so it makes sense that he had some sort of screwed up family life, right? I suppose we just have to steer clear of topics unless he brings them up.”

“I guess.” I was feeling a little ill at the thought of even pretending to be nice, but I would do anything if it meant a chance to escape this hell we were currently living in.

“So we need to start asking for stuff. For the baby, obviously. See what he’s willing to do. He might be open to letting you move upstairs if he thinks it would be better for the baby. Then you could have a better chance of getting away.”

I frowned. “I’m not leaving here without you,” I said.

A tired smile appeared on her face. “Sweetie, I know you don’t want to leave me here, but if either of us has a chance to get out, we can always send someone else back for the other one.”

I knew that the shock showed on my face. “You would leave me here? With him?”
“No! I just meant...” She ran her hand through her hair. “I just think that it would be better for you to leave if you can. I can stand it here while you get away. Then you can send someone to rescue me. I wouldn’t do that to you or the baby.”

“I won’t do it to you, either. We have to figure out how to get out of here together. I don’t want to risk it alone. Who knows what he would do to you if he discovered that I was gone?” I shook my head. “Nope. I won’t risk it. We’re in this together. That’s all there is to it.”

Nicky just sighed. “I still think you should go if you get the chance. Really, Lila, I wouldn’t blame you at all. I can survive a hell of a lot. I’m not sure that you and the baby can afford to pass up any chance you get.”

I didn’t want to think about it anymore. I didn’t want to be making choices for the future, for both of us… all three of us. We would just have to find the perfect opportunity to escape. Together.

Nicky hopped up and went to the bassinet, dropping to her knees beside it, she ran her hands under it, inside of it, and all around.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m looking to see if there are any metal pieces, like thin pieces that might work to pick a lock.”

“Oh, what a good idea!” I said, joining her in looking for something that might work.

“I’m not feeling anything, but if you can think of anything, now is the time to give it a try. He didn’t bother to lock the bottom door again, so all we’d have to do is pick the lock on the upstairs’ door and we’d be free. I don’t know when he’ll be back, but as long as we shut the door behind us, we might have a good twelve hours or so to get away.”

We both became a bit more frantic about searching for a little piece of anything that might work. Nicky finally pulled something loose that we thought might work. We sneaked up the stairs, quiet as could be, although we were pretty certain no one was there, it was still a nerve wracking thing to do.

Nicky took the thin piece of wire and stuck it through the keyhole. “Keep an ear out for any sounds,” she whispered.

“Have you done this before?” I asked.

She smiled. “Maybe more than once, but never on an old lock like this one. I don’t know if that means it will be harder or easier.” She wiggled the metal in the small hole, twisting and turning it. It didn’t seem to be catching on anything, but she was diligently trying. I could hear her swearing under her breath as she pulled the piece of metal out and stuck it back in again.

I held my breath as she worked, straining my ears for any hint of sound on the other side of the door. I suppose that’s why I heard the quiet ‘snick’ of the lock clicking.

Nicky looked back at me, beaming. “I did it!” she whispered.

We both stood perfectly still with the exception of her hand slowly turning the doorknob. The door slowly creaked open. I think we were both in shock. All this time and here we were, just standing in front of the door that would lead to our freedom.

Nicky gestured for me to go first. My hands on my belly, nervous excitement coursing through my veins, I stepped through the door with Nicky on my heels.

We had barely stepped out of the stairwell when I heard an unfamiliar metallic ratchet type sound. I pushed the door wide to see a little old woman with a rifle of some sort pointed straight at us.

Her hands didn’t waver, and her voice was loud. “Now, I know you girls aren’t supposed to be up here without permission.” She waved the gun at us. “You can just turn right back around and get.”

Nicky stepped in front of me, putting herself between me and the gun. I gripped her arm, but she wouldn’t budge. Ice flowed through my veins. Was this how it would all end? Being shot by some little old woman?

“Listen, ma’am,” Nicky’s voice was calmer than I expected. “We just need to go outside and get a little fresh air. My friend here was feeling sick downstairs.”

The woman stepped back just a little and waved the gun, her finger resting on the trigger. Her voice rose, louder, angrier, “I said GET BACK DOWN STAIRS! My boy will be awful upset if he comes home to find you up here. I don’t know what he’d do. Now GO, and I won’t say a word about it.”

I hesitated. This woman was obviously not right in the head, and she was pointing a loaded gun at us. I had no doubt that she would shoot us. Nicky took a step toward her. “Listen, ma’am. I’ll stay here with you if you just let my friend go outside for a little fresh air.”

I knew what she was doing. She was going to risk herself so that I could escape. I wasn’t having it. I couldn’t let her get shot for me. We would find a way. I grabbed her arm and yanked her back. She tripped over her feet and stumbled towards me. The movement caught the old woman off guard and she fired the gun.

The sound was so loud that I screamed and stumbled back into the stairwell. I felt myself falling, my arms flailing for something to hang onto. I grabbed onto the railing and felt like my arm was being wrenched out of its socket. I screamed, the sounds of Nicky’s screams hitting me just then. She went tumbling past me down the stairs, her voice coming to an abrupt halt as I heard her body come to a crashing stop at the bottom of the stairs beneath me.

The door slammed behind me, the key turning in the lock. I heard the old lady on the other side of the door reloading her rifle as I ran down the stairs to Nicky.

“Oh god, please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead!” I could smell the coppery scent of blood. I cried out, “NICKY!” as I reached her, lying so still at the bottom of the steps. I dragged her out of the dark stairwell into our room. She was so still. There was blood all over her shirt, the scent of it sending me into a near panic attack.

I ripped her shirt open to see that she had only been nicked on her upper arm, but it was bleeding like crazy. I ripped her shirt in half and held the fabric to her arm as tightly as I could. I didn’t even notice that I was crying until I felt my tears splashing onto my hands as I gripped her arm to stop the bleeding.

“Nicky?” I used my free hand to feel her head, checking for any lumps or cuts she might have gotten from the fall down the stairs. “Nicky? Wake up, please.” I heard the catch in my voice as a sob broke through. “Please, wake up!” I was terrified. What was going to happen now? I wondered if maybe we should have just rushed the old woman and taken the gun from her. “Damn it!” I cried. “Damn it! Nicky, wake UP!” I started slapping her face, none too gently. I needed her to wake up.

She groaned and reached up, weakly pushing my hand away. I was so relieved at that small movement that I really started to cry in earnest.

“Stop.” Her voice was rough. “Stop crying. You’re freaking me out.”

I laughed. “I’m freaking you out? How do you think I feel? You’re over here bleeding all over me and pretending to be half dead!” I was feeling a little bit hysterical, maybe a little punchy with the adrenaline rush and the excitement of the day.

She gave me a wan smile. “I wasn’t pretending, you jerk.”
“Well, you’re not allowed to be half dead. Or any kind of dead, so wake up and get over it.” I felt the thin veneer of humor that she was trying to display, but I was still feeling pretty shaky and upset by the near escape, near fatal attempt that we’d just had. “You could have died, Nicky.”
She smiled at me, blood smeared all over her neck and shoulder, with my hand still pressing hard on the bullet wound in her arm. “Eh, it’s just a scratch,” she said.

I wanted to smack her. Playfully, of course. Mostly. I just growled instead. “You scared me to death, Nicky. It’s not funny.” I suddenly burst into tears again. “I’m pregnant! You can’t do that to me!” It was all too damn much. I couldn’t deal with all of this and the feeling of impending doom when he came back and found out what we’d done.

Nicky pushed herself up on her elbow. “Listen, love. It’s okay. It will all be okay. I’m fine, see?” She put her hand over mine and pulled the fabric back. The bleeding had already mostly stopped. “Why don’t you get our first aid kit and help me clean this up?”
I knew she was just trying to keep me busy so I would stop freaking out, but I was all for that. I needed something to do so I could feel like I was helping in some way. It had the added benefit of taking my mind off of what was surely coming next.

“We will hear his truck when he comes back, Lila; we have some time to rest and regroup. It will be okay. I promise. We’ll work it out.”

I tried to smile at her, but I just couldn’t. All I could do was focus on the wound on her arm. I cleaned it as good as I could with the alcohol wipes and put some antibiotic ointment on it, finishing up with a large bandage.
“There you go,” I said, gently patting the tape down on her arm.

Nicky took my hand and looked into my eyes. “Thank you.”

“It’s not a problem.”

She squeezed my hand. “No. Thank you for being there for me. For slapping me awake and not letting me die. Thank you for being my friend.” 

I saw tears welling in her eyes, and I pulled her to me for a hug before we both gave in to tears again.

It was definitely time for some distraction. I sat down on the edge of the mattress and picked up a book. “Do you want to read tonight, or shall I?”

She held her arm and groaned dramatically. “Haven’t I sacrificed enough today?”

I laughed and shook my head. She had a way of making everything seem like it would be okay, even if just for the moment. That was all we could hope for, and I was happy to take it.

I opened the book to the place we had stopped a couple of days before. “Okay, here goes. I think this is where it’s going to get sexy, so I hope you can handle it.” I started to read as she laid her head in my lap. Soon, it felt like just another day. The failed escape attempt faded into the back of my mind as I read our silly little romance novel, my best friend drifting off to sleep with her head resting against my belly. The baby kicked at her and I smiled.

“I love you,” I whispered. I wasn’t sure exactly who I was talking to, my baby or Nicky… or both.

CHAPTER FORTY

It was two days later, at the crack of dawn, when we heard his truck returning. I couldn’t believe he’d just left us there for days, but, then again, I was kind of happy that he was willing to take off giving us at least a little bit more of a chance to escape. It seemed like a really good sign to me.

Nicky turned to me. “What do we do when he comes down? Do we go ahead and put the plan in motion?”

I looked around the room. The sun was barely up, so the room was still bathed in mostly darkness. It was a much better situation than the pitch black of our previous attempt. We knew at this stage he’d probably be far more interested in spending time with me, now that he was so excited about the baby, so it would be up to Nicky to put him out of commission. Of course there was also the old lady upstairs. We had to hope that she wouldn’t be quite as on guard if he was here anyway.

We listened in the stillness as his heavy tread walked across the old floors above us. He stopped somewhere near the door at the top of the steps, but then there was just silence.

“Remember,” said Nicky, “Don’t bring up his family. There is obviously some screwed up shit going on there.”

“Trust me, I won’t forget how creepy he was about all that.”

We heard the doorknob rattle, the key in the lock, and then the sound of his foot hitting that first step.

The countdown was slow. He seemed to be unsure of himself. He would take one step and then stop. Nicky and I counted down as he came closer, the sunlight streaming into our room, making things bright enough to see the dust motes dancing in the air around us.

Nicky took my hand and whispered into my ear, “I’m going to go to the bathroom and wait. As soon as the time is right, I will slam it down on his head and then you need to be ready to run. If I don’t get it quite right, he could still be awake and he won’t be happy. Just run and I’ll follow you. I promise.” She squeezed my hand and sneaked out of the bed in silence. I didn’t even hear her heading for the bathroom.

The door slammed open so hard, it rattled on the old hinges. I thought if we hadn’t already nearly broken the door, he would have done it right then.

He stumbled into the room looking confused. I sat up on the edge of the bed, not sure what to do with myself. He took a few stumbling steps towards me and then swung his head around, looking for Nicky.

“Where is she?” His voice was slurred. I realized he was drunk. Very drunk. My heart skipped a beat. This was perfect! He wouldn’t be expecting anything, he wouldn’t be able to react quickly. We were going to be free!

I jumped to my feet to keep him from looking for Nicky any further. “I think the baby is kicking! Do you want to feel it?”

I figured that would keep him just far enough away so that Nicky would feel safe enough to knock him upside the head and leave me free to take off running.

He smiled a big, wide smile, his eyes not quite clear as he stumbled towards me. I saw Nicky quietly making her way up behind him. I did my best to distract him.

His hands were almost on my belly when she came up behind him. I held my breath as I took his hand and held it against my stomach. Nicky raised the rock, we needed to make this count. The baby seemed to be cooperating with the plan. She kicked and tumbled just as his hand touched my stomach. The awe and wonder reached his eyes just as Nicky brought the rock down towards his skull.

He dropped to his knees in front of me, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me off balance toward his embrace. It was too late for Nicky to stop the trajectory of the heavy rock she was swinging, but his head was not where it should be. I saw the horror in her eyes as she realized that she was going to hit me instead. She screamed as the rock connected with my face. I heard a roar from somewhere, I wasn’t sure if it was from me, him, or Nicky. My face felt like it was exploding. I felt the hot liquid of my blood flowing from my nose, and then everything went black.

I’m not sure how much later it was when I woke up. There was a cool cloth on my face and I was lying on the bed. MY hands immediately went to my stomach to check on the baby. She kicked and pushed at my hands. I nearly cried with happiness. I had woken up with such a deep feeling of dread, but everything was okay. I reached for Nicky beside me before I realized that her side of the bed was empty. It took me a second to remember what had happened. I sat bolt upright and cried out with the pain in my head. My entire face felt like it was swollen and ready to explode. I groaned and slowly lowered myself back to my pillow. I was not going to be moving quickly anytime soon.

The feeling of anxiety was back, pooling in my stomach, in my throat. I tried to remember what had happened after I was hit, but it was all darkness. I blinked back tears. “Nicky?” I whispered as loud as I dared without my head killing me. “Nicky!”

I waited, but I heard nothing. I choked back a sob, knowing that he would not have handled the attack or the attempted attack well. Tears fell from my eyes as I realized he had surely punished her for it, and I had been blacked out, unable to help. I strained my ears to see if I could hear anything. The last thing I wanted to do was get out of this bed, but I had to find Nicky. What if he’d left her battered and broken somewhere and she was all alone?

I rolled to my side, my hands automatically coming up to hold my head together as it felt like it was going to fall apart. I squinted, peering through the dim room I’d come to know so well, but I didn’t see anything.

“Nicky?” I asked again, coming off the bed onto my hands and knees. I couldn’t handle standing upright at the moment; my head felt like it would just fall off my shoulders if I tried. I groaned in pain but started crawling across the rough floor, calling to Nicky every minute or so. There was nothing. I made it over by the washer and dryer and braced myself. I pulled myself up slowly until I was standing and hobbled into the bathroom, just in case she was in there. Nothing.

I felt tears flowing down my face. I knew then that he had killed her. She was gone. I stumbled back to the bed, feeling a whole new level of hysteria starting to overtake me. I crawled under the blankets and an icy cold feeling flowed through me. I piled more blankets on, but I could not get warm. Sobs wracked my body as I pulled the blankets tighter and tighter around me like a cocoon. I just wanted to block the entire world out. I didn’t want to be here anymore. I wanted to give up. I cried my heart out, for myself, for Nicky, for the baby, with my hands wrapped tight in the blankets.

It was too much for me. I couldn’t lose anyone else. I couldn’t. My brain warred between feeling bleak with despair and feeling a furious rage. I wanted to give up and crawl in a hole, but at the same time, I wanted to go beat the door down and insist that he bring Nicky back to me safe and sound. I thought, in that moment, that I would even give up trying to escape if he would just bring her back, safe and sound. I was willing to give up almost anything to know that she was safe. My exhausted, injured body won out, and I cried myself to sleep.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

The sun woke me the next morning. My head was still killing me, but my brain felt more clear. I sat up carefully, but my head didn’t explode so I went ahead and stood up. I pressed gently on my face to feel if anything was broken. My nose was definitely really tender, but I wasn’t sure that it was actually broken. I definitely felt a bit faint, probably from not eating, but everything was still in working order. I made my way to the bathroom to wash up a bit and then found something to eat. Thankfully, we had been stashing extra food in the dryer for safe keeping from the rodents, and there was plenty left. I sat down to eat before anything else happened. I wouldn’t be any good for anyone if I was passing out from hunger. It was the hardest thing to do, to just be still for a moment or two and eat. Just drinking water was making me feel frustrated with myself for not doing more, but the baby moving around inside of me was a reminder that I could no longer just go off half cocked. I had to think things through. Not that thinking things through seemed to be helping much. Nicky and I had actually made a plan, waited for the ‘right’ moment, and everything had still went off the rails.

My whole body tensed thinking about Nicky. Worrying about Nicky. I needed her. I would never get out of here myself. The baby and I needed her. I couldn’t seem to drink enough water, I was just chugging it and felt a wave of nausea. The baby flipped and kicked. Suddenly, I felt like I needed to sit down NOW. I sank to the floor beside the dryer and my body tensed again. It was like a wave pressing down on my body from all sides at first. Then I realized with a growing sense of alarm that it wasn’t my entire body, it was my stomach. My baby was still, but my stomach was getting hard as a rock. My entire body felt this almost whoosh of… tightening. I didn’t understand what was happening to me, but I instinctively knew it was not good. It wasn’t good at all. I put my hands on my stomach and felt it go hard for a minute and then rest. I started crying, again. I hated being such a cry baby, but I was terrified. Was this the beginning of labor?
I tried to think, to process how long it had been. Nicky had been making the marks on the wall half of the time, and I had lost track. I thought I was only about six months along, but that was way too early for this. I crawled over to the wall by our bed where the marks were. I took deep breaths, trying to calm my breathing, to slow down, and to let things settle as I counted over the weeks and months. I counted again and again. I had to be at least seven months pregnant. Seven months. I knew a pregnancy was supposed to last for nine months, but I didn’t know where seven months landed in the ‘too early’ thing. I knew babies were born early all the time, but not in a filthy cellar somewhere with no help and no doctor. I felt the tension rock through me again, and I screamed. I let all of the terror and pain of the last months out as I screamed without stopping. I was terrified to my bones that my baby was going to die because our escape attempt had failed. Scared that Nicky was already dead and scared for myself. That I would be stuck here forever. I screamed until I thought the house would fall down around me. I was still screaming when I heard footsteps on the stairs.

I didn’t even look up when the door slammed open. I was crying and holding my stomach, as if my hands could keep the baby safe if my body wouldn’t. I felt arms lifting me up and placing me on the bed.

“My baby…” I was mumbling through the snot and tears, hysterical. “My baby, something’s wrong. Help me!”

I didn’t even open my eyes, I didn’t want to see him. I felt him leave, heard his footsteps running up the stairs. Soon he was back, and I was lying on my side, curled up around my baby. I felt a cool cloth on my face, wiping the tears away, wiping my neck. Although I thought it was nearly useless, it felt a bit soothing and I could feel myself calming. It reminded me of my mother when I was sick as a child, cooling a fever with a wet cloth on my forehead. I tried not to follow those thoughts, but, even then, I felt my mom again. It was as if I had conjured her up in my desperate time of need.

“Lila, honey. You have to take control of yourself. You are a mama now and it’s time to calm down for your baby. She is not ready to come out yet.” I felt my mother’s presence envelope me and felt my breathing start to calm. “That’s right,” her voice was clear as day. I didn’t open my eyes because I didn’t want to see that it wasn’t really her wiping the cool wet cloth across my face over and over. “Breathe, baby. Slowly, in through your nose, out through your mouth.” I followed her instructions as I always did when she calmed me this way. I could almost feel her hands on my face, almost see her eyes looking into my own. I may have smiled. “That’s right, sweetie, you got this. Breathe. See? She’s settling down.”

I reached down and felt my belly. I could feel her push against my hand, but my belly stayed in its normal state. I didn’t feel the tension, the hardness coming back. I kept breathing in and out, nice and slow. I could feel my heartbeat slowing down from its frantic emergency pace.

I was soon feeling almost back to normal. I hadn’t let my thoughts travel to any stressful places, and, instead, just kept my mind focused on my mom’s voice and my breathing exercises. That was all I could do in that moment.

I felt the cool cloth leave, but soon it was Withd with another. I peeked out to see that he was there, tending to me. I wanted to scream and push him away. I wanted to yell at him that it was all his fault. I wanted to hit him, to destroy him, but I knew that I couldn’t. Not right then. I knew I had to stay calm.

“I need Nicky,” I whispered. He ignored me, wiping a new cool cloth across my head. I wanted to slap his hand away, but I had an idea percolating and I needed to stay calm. “I need Nicky for the baby. Please.” I wasn’t even sure it was a lie because I needed her to help me stay calm and stay sane. I felt the cloth go still on my head. “Please, I’m begging you. There is something wrong and I need Nicky. She’s a nurse.” I was quite sure that was a lie, but he didn’t know that. I DID need her with me, of that I had no doubt. There was no way I was going to get through this alone. “Please, at least let her come back down and take care of me.” I felt the tears starting up again, and I didn’t even try to stop them. “Please,” I begged, crying in earnest. “I need her to take care of the baby and me. Please. I need Nicky, or I need a doctor. There’s something wrong. Help us.”

“No doctors!” he said roughly. I felt him shift and move to stand up.

I grabbed his wrist, pulling him back to me. I had one last thing to try. “Please, save the baby. I need her.”

He stood and I heard him leave, going back up the stairs once again. I wasn’t sure if he would be back or not. I didn’t know if my words had convinced him of anything or if he just wanted to get away from my begging. Either way, I had tried everything I knew to try. Tears were still flowing from my eyes as I drifted in and out of sleep. It felt like it had been hours and hours since I’d gotten out of bed, but I knew it couldn’t have been even close to that long. I let myself sink into the bed and just rest. I kept up with the focused breathing, even though I couldn’t feel my mother’s presence anymore. It made me feel better to do it, and I knew she’d want me to, so I focused on that. The one thing in all this mess that I could actually control.

I slept off and on for most of that day. I got up to use the bathroom and was happy to see that I wasn’t bleeding. I wasn’t sure when this baby had so solidly made her way into my heart, but I was desperate for her to be okay. She mattered more to me than anyone else at the moment, even myself. I was still absolutely desperate to see Nicky again, though. I hoped she wasn’t in a situation in which she was going to be able to escape because I was determined to get him to allow her back down here. I felt a sinking feeling at that very thought, wondering if maybe he couldn’t bring her back to me. I knew it was a very real possibility that she was dead. He could have very easily killed her for the attack with the rock. I berated myself again for being so stupid, but it didn’t change a thing. I was still pregnant and alone in this cellar, and if I didn’t figure something out in the very near future, I was going to be having a baby down here as well. That thought filled me with a panic like nothing else.

I crawled back to the mattress with a bottle of water and lay back down on my side. That seemed to be the best position at the moment. The baby would kick and tumble about, my back didn’t ache, and those tightening pains didn’t happen.

I wanted Nicky so badly, I could barely even think of her being dead. I found myself wanting to roll over and reach for her so often, it was breaking my heart.

I supposed those became my only plans at that moment. Get Nicky back, to be with me where I could see she was safe, and to keep the baby happy, healthy, and inside for as long as possible. Everything else could work itself out.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

That night passed without further incident. I wasn’t sure if it was because I was lying down, but I knew about bed rest and I was willing to stay lying down if it even had a chance of helping my baby. I slept fitfully all night, waking up often with a jolt of worry that something was wrong. I knew part of it was the fact that Nicky wasn’t beside me. I had grown used to having her there beside me. Another human body, the comfort of her friendship. I had known she made me feel less lonely, but I hadn’t realized just how much she’d come to mean to me. I found myself waking up multiple times, reaching for her to find her side of the bed cold and empty.

I convinced myself that she had to still be alive. I thought I would surely know if she had died. I would feel it. I had to believe she was still alive and I was going to bug him until he brought her back to me. I could take care of her, and she could take care of me.

I tried not to think about her being seriously injured and alone. It was all I could do to hold onto my sanity; I couldn’t bear to think of her needing me when I couldn’t be there.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

The next morning, I heard footsteps on the stairs again. He came into the room with a tray full of food. Fresh fruit, vegetables, eggs, and oatmeal. I was shocked. This was the first time I’d had hot and healthy ‘real’ food in so long. I was drooling at the smells coming from the plate. There was a spoon to eat with and no fork. I smiled sadly as I remembered the spoons we’d gotten him to bring down for the ill fated rock plan. I ate the food with gusto and felt like the baby was even happy about it. I drank the orange juice from the little juice box, and it tasted like heaven to me.

He stood there, watching me eat the whole time. As I finished, he cleared his throat and shifted on his feet. “Is the baby okay?” he asked.

My hands went to my stomach. I needed to push the Nicky thing. “I don’t know. I’m really scared. I need Nicky to come check on the baby.” I looked at him, pleading, “I really need her to take care of me. The baby will be here in a few months and I need her to keep us healthy.”

He looked at me suspiciously, but I knew he didn’t find anything. I really meant what I was saying. Sure, Nicky might not actually be a nurse, but she was necessary to my well being and that of the baby. I was certain of that. I would go crazy being stuck down here alone.

He took the empty tray and left without another word. I counted as he went up the steps, noticing that he no longer bothered with the downstairs door. I wondered if he thought he had broken it in his last fit of rage. It was odd that he hadn’t ever said anything about it if he thought we did it. I shrugged that thought off and lay back down. I was once again feeling tired all the time. I was trying to keep my thoughts positive and calm. I dug out the old notebook and the crayons and started writing down positive thoughts.

After awhile, I started thinking about names for her. I thought about Hope, since she was definitely giving me hope that I would escape this prison. It just didn’t sit right. It felt too trite, too common. I needed something stronger, something deeper. I also realized that I didn’t want her name tied to her beginnings all that much. I didn’t want that to become her identity in any way. Maybe something totally frivolous would be better. I found myself wanting to talk to Nicky about it, and that just made me sad all over again. I thought about the papers I had written after Valerie had died. All of the things I had tracked so that I wouldn’t forget anything about her. So that I could find her family after all of this. I didn’t want to do that for Nicky. I couldn’t.

I watched the tears drip onto the paper and closed the notebook. I needed to rest my mind, rest my eyes, and let this little baby rest as well. There would be time to figure out a new plan after a nap. I closed my eyes once again and let my body sink into a restful state.

I dreamed about the baby. We were at my parents’ house for some holiday with food and family things. I had a little fat cuddly baby who could barely sit up. Nicky was there with me and my entire family. My mom was puttering around the kitchen, putting the last of the meal together as we all gathered around the table. I felt a peace surround me as my mom came and sat down at the table next to me, my baby’s chubby arms reaching for her grandma. I had tears in my eyes watching my mom transform into this new role of being a grandparent and it was so beautiful my heart ached with it. I looked across the table to where Nicky was sitting and saw that she was noticing the moment as well. She had happy tears in her eyes to match mine. She gave me a smile so full of love and hope that my heart overflowed with it.

The person next to me tapped me on the shoulder to pass a bowl of food around, but I was too taken with the scene going on around me. The hand tapped again and then shook my shoulder. I felt a bit annoyed with them for bothering me during such a sweet moment, but they kept shaking my shoulder harder. I finally turned and it was him. He was there beside me.

I was jolted awake, opening my eyes to find that he was sitting on the edge of the mattress, trying to shake me awake.

“You need to eat more,” he said. He was holding food and a bag. He dropped the bag beside my head and pulled me upright. I was still surrounded by the love and peacefulness from my dream, my brain couldn’t seem to accept that I was back in the cellar again, without Nicky.

He opened the bag and pulled out a few books. ‘Expectant Motherhood’ and ‘Jane Fonda’s Workout for Pregnant Women’ and other pregnancy related books, which looked like they had been around for decades already. Still, I was happy to have anything with which to fill my brain with actual useful information.

I forced out a quiet, “Thank you,” but I just wanted him to leave. “Where is Nicky? I need her here.” I wasn’t going to stop asking. I didn’t even care if it made him mad.

“No,” was his only answer.

“No? NO?” I repeated, feeling frustrated with his unwillingness to even talk to me, or give me a reason of any kind. “No? So you don’t care if the baby dies because of you? I need a doctor.”

“No doctors!” His face was immediately red, the veins on his forehead jumped out at me and I almost fell back on the bed to avoid him, but this was too important.

“Fine. I need Nicky, then. A nurse. Someone. Please.” I rubbed my hand over my constantly expanding stomach. “I need help with the baby. She’s going to be here soon. Please send Nicky back down.” I met his eyes, hoping he would see the genuine worry I was feeling. Hoping that he really was excited about a baby coming because then he would surely care about making sure she got here in a safe and healthy state.

He grunted and reached out to touch my belly. He hesitated, as if he was waiting for permission. I didn’t want to let him touch her, but I also knew that it might push him to see that this baby was real and make him send Nicky back. My worry for her was starting to overwhelm everything else. I took his hand and put it on my stomach, cringing at his touch but desperate to make him see the reality.

My little girl kicked up a storm. I smiled at her activity, like she was saying, ‘Hey, you big old bully, give my mama back her friend!’ He looked shocked. He jerked his hand away at first, but then slowly reached out again. She kicked him again and he looked at me with wonder in his eyes. He seemed truly astonished by the feeling of her moving around inside of me.

I saw some emotion flash across his face, and I pushed once more. “Please, help me keep her safe. Send Nicky back down to take care of me. I need to lie down as much as possible. For the baby to be safe.” He looked at me again and pulled himself to his feet. He didn’t say anything, but he nodded. That seemed like a good sign to me, so I didn’t say anything else as he turned and left the room.

The next few days passed in a blur. I was devouring the pregnancy and baby books. I was using a yellow crayon as a highlighter, but, as it turns out, I was pretty much highlighting the entire book. It was eye opening to learn just how much I didn’t know. I worked out the timing from my last period, as best I could remember. I thought with the combination of symptoms and everything else, that I was probably just over seven months pregnant. When I read that I could easily have a baby around eight and a half months, I kind of panicked. I really didn’t see any way of escape if I was by myself. My body was becoming more ungainly and cumbersome every day. There was no way I’d have the strength to fight him off, even if I could think of a way to make it happen. The thought of giving birth here, of having him even laying eyes on my daughter, sent chills so deep into my bones, I was afraid I’d never feel warm again.

The good news was that the pains I’d felt, the weird tightening feelings, seemed to be somewhat normal. Being dehydrated was a big part of that, so I vowed to drink even more water. I became more diligent about taking the vitamins he’d brought me before, and I was eating every bit of food he provided each day. Everything else seemed right on track. I was almost afraid to read the last chapters, about labor, birth, and having a newborn, but I read every page. The thought of going into labor down here was terrifying enough, but the thought of going through that alone with no pain relief, no support, no one to make sure things were okay, made my entire being feel numb. It was literally just too much to think about, so my body would just seemingly shut down when I started to stress about it. I highlighted and circled every sign of labor I could find. I read and reread them just to make sure it was stuck in my brain.

I laughed at the Jane Fonda exercise book, but it did make a good point that being fit was better for the baby, better for me, and would possibly even make the whole labor and recovery go better. I knew I needed all the help I could get. If there was any chance that I couldn’t escape before she was born, I would need to recover as fast as possible so I could get her away from here. I was planning to take it easy, but I thought at least a little exercise would do me some good. I had been so inactive since being stuck in this cellar, I wasn’t really sure I’d have the ability to escape if I did get the chance.

I almost regretted telling him that I needed more help, because instead of sending Nicky down, he started to come down twice a day. Then he’d send the old lady down at least once a day to bring me food and check on me. I was so desperately lonely that I almost enjoyed the company, while another part of me just wanted them to leave me alone so I could sleep and ignore reality all day long. Instead, I got visits from him, wanting to touch my belly, making sure I had what I needed. I never failed to ask to see Nicky. It was the only thing I wanted that I thought I might have a chance of getting.

It was the old lady who gave me a thread of hope. After days of asking for Nicky, with not even a word of reassurance from him, I started to work on getting information out of the old woman. I always knew when it was her coming down the stairs because her steps were lighter and much slower.

She’d hobble into the room, usually with a snack of some sort. She would bring me a glass of milk along with cookies or a cinnamon bun, the first sweets I’d had in months. She always sat on the corner of the mattress, watching me in an uncomfortable silence while I ate. When I was done, she’d make sure I drank every last drop of milk and leave without a word.

I finally gathered up my courage and started a conversation with her after a couple of days of silence.

“These cookies are delicious. Did you make them?” I asked. She just grunted and nodded, but I could tell she was pleased that I liked them. I tried again, “Do you make your own recipe, or is it from a book?” She looked offended but still didn’t say anything. I wondered if this was his mother. Maybe no one in the family ever spoke. It would explain why he rarely spoke. I bit into another cookie, washing it down with the milk. “I really appreciate you bringing me a snack every day. The baby seems to like your baking, too!” I kept up a facade of happiness, hoping to draw her out. I saw her eyes flick to my stomach, but she quickly looked away. “Would you like to feel the baby move?” I asked.

She met my eyes with a look of panic. She grabbed the nearly finished glass of milk and took herself out with a faster pace than normal. It still wasn’t much, but I had apparently said the wrong thing. I berated myself, but I figured I would have another chance tomorrow. Maybe, eventually, she’d trust me and she could tell me about Nicky.

The next day was more of the same. This time she brought me a sweet roll, and I thought I had died and gone to Heaven. I wondered why he hadn’t been bringing me these goodies all along. It was amazing. I moaned with delight over the snack and watched her out of the corner of my eye. She was nearly beaming with pride. I decided to take things slower this time.

“Wow. This is seriously the best sweet roll I’ve ever had in my entire life! You are amazing!” I flattered her with praise and she actually looked pleased. “I wish I could bake like this. I would love to teach my daughter how to cook some day.” I just chatted, hoping that something would make her perk up. “I never really learned how to do things in the kitchen. My mom was usually working, so I just never had the chance.” I watched her face closely out of the corner of my eye. She was listening intently, and I could tell that she wanted to say something. “My name is Lila, what should I call you?” I turned and looked at her. For a second, I thought she was going to bolt again, but she sat still, only her hands clutched tightly together giving any clue of her level of stress.

She paused so long that I didn’t think she was going to answer me. I could tell she was struggling with it, and I wondered if he had told her not to talk to me or not to give me her name. She was fidgeting more, obviously becoming more stressed about things.

“You are his mother, right?” I was guessing, but based on her age and a few similarities in their looks, I thought he just had to be her son. She nodded, although it was such a small movement, I could have misunderstood, but I continued, hoping this wasn’t the wrong tack to take. I needed this woman to trust me. To like me, even. I needed to get her on my side. I continued, “If you’re his mother, then that makes you my baby’s grandma!” I hoped the strain wasn’t audible to her ears. I was forcing the fake emotion and it grated in my ears. “I would like to know your name so I know what to call you. You could be Grandma…” I let the words trail off and then held my breath.

“Matthews.” Her voice was barely a whisper. I wasn’t sure I’d heard her correctly.

“Grandma Matthews?” I asked. She nodded, standing to her feet and reaching out for the glass. I handed it to her and put my hand on hers. “Thank you, Grandma Matthews, for bringing the baby and me snacks.”

She just nodded, but it was a far better response than her reaction yesterday. I felt like I was making progress. If nothing else, I thought that maybe she would care enough about the baby to get Nicky back down here to help me. I could only hope that Nicky was still able to come down to help. Maybe I could even go one step further and get her to take me to see a doctor. I could agree to keep their secret until I was alone for an exam or something. I stopped myself before I let my hopes get too high. For now, I would just hope for Nicky to come back into my life.

I listened to her halting footsteps on the stairs as she made her way upstairs. I wondered how old she was, if she was seriously elderly or if she had just had such a hard life that she seemed older than she was.

The bread, milk, and the interaction with the old woman made me want to take a nap, so I did. I dreamed about Nicky again, about my baby and my family. I seemed to be dreaming a lot lately, and they were so very vivid, I often woke up with tears on my face from the intensity of it. I felt like my mental and emotional state was shifting faster than I could keep up with. I definitely felt the maternal instinct flowing through my veins. I wondered if it would continue to get stronger until the baby was here. It was changing me in ways I hadn’t imagined. I found myself almost feeling content at times. I was so thrilled to read about the pregnancy and the stages that my little baby was going through.

Oddly enough, the biggest emotional challenge at that point wasn’t that I was trapped in a basement. It wasn’t that I was basically a prisoner or that I couldn’t see my family. It was not knowing what had happened to Nicky. Not only was I still missing her terribly, but I was really worried for her. As much as I was missing my family in that moment, I knew that they were probably all doing okay. I knew that with my daily marks, it was really close to the holidays. My mom was probably going nuts missing me and worrying about me, much like I was worrying about Nicky, but I wasn’t worried about my family being safe. I was terrified that Nicky was hurt and alone, or worse.

Every day that he came down, I asked for Nicky again and again. I cried when he wanted to touch my belly to feel the baby kick, so he stopped trying. He apparently didn’t want to make me upset while I was pregnant and that upset me even more. I had convinced myself that it meant that he couldn’t let Nicky come back, or he surely would have by then. I begged and pleaded with him every time he came down until he started just leaving the tray of food right inside the door and going back upstairs. I was devastated.

My luck wasn’t quite as bad with Grandma Matthews, but she wasn’t giving me much hope, either. She would give me one word answers when I asked her for baby or pregnancy advice. She brought me some more baby clothes, some old and some that looked like she’d just knitted them. She seemed pleased when I thanked her for things, but whenever I brought up Nicky, she would get up and leave. I was becoming frantic with the need to see that she was okay.

Counting the marks on the wall, I realized that it had to be close to Thanksgiving. I felt my mother’s presence often in my dreams. She would tell me stories about the times she was pregnant with me and my sister. I would wake up on those days feeling warm and hopeful, but I was growing more impatient with each passing day. I vacillated between being angry and being depressed. I never knew if the day would start with me crying or raging, wanting to hit something and cuss him out.

The more frustrated I got, the less I felt my mother’s presence. It was driving me mad. I was so lonely, so desperate, so anxious, I think it started to affect the baby.

It was right around Thanksgiving that the pains started again. This time there was a lot more pain involved when my stomach would get hard. I was terrified that all the stress was causing preterm labor. I scoured the books for what to do, but they all just said to go to the doctor, call the doctor, or go to the emergency room. I tried to calm myself with breathing exercises, but I was so alone, so afraid, that more often than not, I would just find myself curled up in a ball on the bed crying for my mother, for Nicky.

I hit rock bottom the morning I went to the bathroom and realized I was bleeding. My heart dropped to my toes and my entire mind went blank. I stumbled back to the bed and immediately lay down on my side. I picked up the books again, hoping for any kind of clue as to how to stop this. How to tell if I could stop it. I was sobbing by the time I heard his feet on the stairs.

“Help!” I cried out as loudly as I could, but it felt weak. I didn’t know if he’d even be able to hear me, so I threw the book as hard as I could. It barely skipped across the cement floor with a whisper of sound. “HELP!” I cried again.

He stepped inside the room and I just started sobbing hysterically. “Please help! Something is wrong with the baby! Please! I’m bleeding!” I wrapped my arms around my stomach, begging for luck, for her to be okay. I was pretty sure that I wasn’t having even one cohesive thought at that point, but it was all I knew. The emotional pain was so much.

I heard his feet stomping quickly up the stairs and then heard Grandma Matthews light steps coming down. As soon as she peeked into the room, I cried out to her.

“Grandma Matthews! Please help me, get Nicky! The baby is in trouble! I need a doctor!” I gasped as another pain washed over me. I felt something wet between my legs. I was going to have this baby. I needed to go to the hospital. “Please, help me. It’s too early!”

Grandma Matthews shuffled over to me and put her hand on my stomach. She felt my forehead as if she was checking for a fever and then sat down next to me on the bed. “No doctors, no doctors, they’re all quacks…” she was speaking, but it didn’t seem like she was talking TO me. She just muttered ‘no doctors’ over and over while running her frail hands over my belly like she could calm everything with just her touch.

“Please.” I didn’t have any more time to play games. “Please help me.” I felt like I was going to pass out. I hadn’t experienced any pains for a short while, but I was light headed and exhausted. It was like I had been drugged and I couldn’t keep my eyes open for even one more minute.

I started to calm down with the little, old woman’s hands rubbing my belly as she murmured what I assumed to be soothing words to the baby inside of me. I’m not sure what she was saying, but everything settled enough that I was able to control my breathing again. I slept hard enough to dream once again.

Nicky was there. She was holding me, running her fingers through my hair and getting after me for not taking care of myself. “Look at all of these tangles, girl. You just let yourself go as soon as I left for just a minute.” I smiled in my dreams, wanting nothing but to talk to her again.

“Where did you go?” I asked her. She didn’t answer and I realized that she probably didn’t want to talk about that. “Why did you come back?” I asked instead.

I felt her hand still in my hair. “Because you needed me enough to bring me back,” she said. I felt her slide down under the covers with me and curl up against my back. I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep and slept for a very long time. My body was finally getting the rest it so desperately needed, both for me and the growing baby inside of me.

I slept through that day and the night, not waking up until the sun was shining in through the small windows of the cellar. I woke with a smile, feeling Nicky’s presence so strongly, it was as if she was really there. I took a deep breath and prepared to get up to start my day with a desperately needed bathroom break. The baby was about to burst my bladder open. I practically ran to the bathroom without paying much attention to anything. I checked and there was no more blood. I felt such an overwhelming relief that I nearly started crying. I was sniffling when I came out of the bathroom, trying not to get overly emotional again. This poor baby of mine was getting put through the ringer before she was even born. I was looking down at my enormous baby bump, my hands feeling for any signs of movement from my baby, when I realized that there was a strange energy in the air.

I looked up and saw Nicky sitting on the bed where I had just been. My hands dropped to my sides and I just stared. I was such a basketcase, I really thought I was still dreaming.

Nicky smiled, tears rolling down her face. “Hey,” she said.

I blurted, “You look awful for being in my dream!” My hands came up and covered my mouth. I couldn’t believe I’d said that. I didn’t even care if it was a dream, I was fine living in a dream world for right now.

Nicky started laughing. “I don’t see you for weeks and the first thing you say is that I look awful? Wow.” She reached out her arms to me and I stood as if I was frozen in place, not wanting to get my hopes up.

“Are you real?” I asked, still feeling like my world was tilting on its axis. She nodded and got up off the bed, walking over to me. It was definitely her. The reality sank in as she got closer. She had been hurt pretty badly. Her left eye was still swollen and bruised. The swelling covered most of that side of her face. She was obviously having some issues with her arm as well, she seemed to be holding it in an awkward position. “Nicky, oh my god.” I knew it was inevitable; the tears started flowing. I felt her arms come around me, pulling me in for a hug, and I just let the tears flow.

“You dork,” she said, the tears clogging her throat and making her voice sound weird. “Of course I’m real. I’m right here.”

I’m not sure how long we stood there like that, holding onto each other like a lifeline.

“I missed you,” I said into her shoulder.

“How long was I gone?” she asked, pulling back and looking at me with an ornery smile on her face. “You’re as big as a house! Come, lie down. I can tell you’re uncomfortable.”

“But how did you get down here? What happened? I was so worried about you!”

“Just lie down and I’ll tell you about it, but, first, how are you? How’s our little baby doing in there?” I lay down on the bed, and she sat down beside me, lightly placing her hands on my belly. “Hey there, little girl,” she said to my belly. I immediately felt the little fluttering kicks. They soon grew into bigger kicks. Nicky looked at me, wide eyed. “Wow, she really has grown. It feels like she’s going to kick her way out of there!”

“Tell me about it,” I said. It was amazing what having her here did for my emotional state. I felt so much more at ease just having her close.

“So what is going on with you? I gather that the guy upstairs, and I mean the asshole upstairs, that wasn’t a reference to god, but he seems to think that I’m some sort of medical professional? He said there were problems with the baby and that I needed to fix it.”

“Ummm.” I looked at her with what was probably a bit of a sheepish look. “I kind of told them that you were a nurse and I needed you to help me so the baby would be safe.”

Nicky smiled and shook her head. “So all the screaming and panic was fake? That’s a relief.” She brushed my hair out of my face. “I could hear you, but I couldn’t get to you. I was going crazy up there.”

“I wasn’t faking. It was bad, but it seems to have calmed down. Nicky, what happened to you?”

“It was bad.” She looked away, not wanting to see my reaction, I supposed. “He was so angry about the rock, about the attack. I think he was even more angry that I’d hurt you than anything else. He is really stuck on this baby thing. He calls you his wife. It’s really creepy how focused he is on you.” She paused for a bit, clearly struggling with the memories.

I thought back to the time I had nearly escaped, and he had beaten me so bad. I found her hand and squeezed it. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“It’s okay.” She squeezed my hand back and held onto it. “It was just, I wasn’t expecting everything to go so wrong. I had thought we’d be running out the front door. I didn’t think I’d be waking up feeling like I’d been hit by a truck. My god, Lila, everything hurt so much. I’m not even sure how many days passed before I could stay awake for any length of time. I thought I was going to die.” She held up her other arm that seemed odd. “I think my arm is broken. It still hurts and I can’t use my hand like I used to.” She turned to me with tears in her eyes. “I was so damn worried about you, Lila. He wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t tell me anything except that I was never going to see ‘his wife’ again. I was terrified. I thought he’d killed you.”

“I thought the same thing about you.”

“I was so relieved when I heard you screaming.” She met my eyes with a bit of a faint smile. “Well, I was relieved that you were alive, and then I was pretty much freaking out that something was horribly wrong.”

“I’m so glad you’re here. Can you lie down with me?” She smiled at me. The door at the top of the stairs creaked open. Her smile vanished and she squeezed my hand before letting it go. “Be still, it will be okay.”

We waited in tense silence as we counted his steps until he reached the still open door at the bottom of the stairs. He didn’t come inside, just left the tray of food on the floor and left again. Neither of us moved a muscle until we heard him go back up the stairs and shut the door. As soon as we heard the key in the lock, Nicky ran over and grabbed the tray of food, bringing it back to the bed.

“I’m so damn hungry, holy shit, even this looks good.” She grabbed a sandwich and I grabbed an apple. We devoured everything on the tray, and then she crawled into the bed with me, curling up against my back like she always used to. The warmth of her body spread through my bones, making me feel warmer than I’d felt the whole time she was gone. I hadn’t even been sure if it had been getting colder because of the weather or because of her absence, but it felt so good to have her back.

She whispered sleepily into my ear, “As soon as we get a little more rest, you and me, we’re going to make a plan and get out of here. That baby needs to be born in freedom. I promise I will still make that happen.” Her voice sounded so sleepy, I knew she’d be out in a heartbeat. I smiled to myself and pulled her arm tighter against my belly. The baby kicked at her hand. I liked to think that was because she was just as happy to have Nicky back as I was.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Nicky read through the pregnancy books with me when we woke up. She wanted to know everything there was to know about labor and delivery as well. “I wish we had a book that had more detail. I mean, what if we manage to put the old man out of commission but can’t get to a hospital? You might end up having the baby in this house.”
“Don’t freak me out like that,” I said, feeling pretty stressed that she had even the smallest doubt about getting ourselves to safety before the baby made her appearance.

“Lila, honey, I know I said we’d be out of here, but the more I think about it…” her voice faded away as she saw the look on my face. “Hey, we WILL get out of here, but that failed escape attempt really screwed things up. We lost at least two weeks, if not three. I don’t even know what day it is anymore.”

I looked down at my hands, clenched together around my expanding middle.

“Listen to me. Do not give up. We just have to be realistic. We are out in the middle of nowhere. We never hear anyone else. No cars, no neighbor dogs barking, nothing. We’re obviously out in the country somewhere. It’s getting colder outside, and it’s already too cold to safely have a baby in this weather. If you are about to drop this baby, we can not risk running out into the freezing cold with no idea of where we are or where we’re going. I just want to be safe. I want you and the baby to be safe. She feels like my baby, too. I don’t want anything to happen to any of us.”

I nodded, trying to blink back tears. So much of me had been depending on Nicky getting back so that we could escape; I guessed I’d let myself forget the reality of the situation. I was still adamant we get out of here, but I realized Nicky was right. We had to think about the reality of the situation. We had to think about the safety of this little innocent child who would be relying on us to keep her safe. “I know, Nicky, I am just so… anxious to get out of here. I can’t stand the thought of her being born with him still around.”

“I can’t either. You know I hate the thought as much as you do.” She rubbed her hand on my belly again, eliciting the same kicking as usual.

I smiled, I couldn’t help it. “She seems to really like you, you know. You might have to stick with me after she’s born.” I looked at Nicky and something passed between us. I realized then that we had never talked about ‘After’ we escaped. We hadn’t discussed what would happen to ‘us’ and, honestly, although I hadn’t said much about it. I had just been assuming that she’d always be with me.

“You think you’ll want to put up with me even after we’re out of here?” Nicky looked almost vulnerable then. I felt like I held her heart in my hands.

“Of course!” I said. “Seriously, Nicky, please say you won’t run off as soon as we’re free. I want you to stay with me…” She looked like she was going to say something else, and I found that I was afraid of what she’d say. I just knew she was going to say she had other places to be, other people in her life. “I mean, you don’t have to only stay with me, but I want you to meet my family. They’d love you. I want to know that I can still see you. I want you in my life.”

Nicky was impossible to read. “I want that, too. Let’s just see what pans out once we’re out of here. We need to focus on the actual getting out part first, anyway. This baby seems like she’s about ready to burst out any minute. We need to get on it.” She rubbed my belly again. “By the way, what are you going to name her? It feels weird just calling her ‘baby’ or ‘her.’ This child needs a name, mama.”

“I don’t know,” I said, grateful for the change of subject. “I tried to think of that when you were gone, but I need your input. I just felt like everything was too serious for her. I don’t think I was in a good space for naming a whole entire human.”
Nicky laughed. “A whole entire human? That sounds far more important and serious than just thinking of a baby name. Now I’m nervous!” She smiled at me. “Let’s make a list of crazy baby names and see which one she likes the best. What do you say?”
I grinned, happy to have something light hearted and positive to think on for a while. “Good idea. The crayons and notebook are under the edge of the mattress there. You’re in charge of writing the lists. I’m going to lie down and do the thinking.”

“Good idea, mama. Lie down and let me do the heavy lifting.” She leaned down and got the notebook out, holding the crayon poised for action.

In spite of everything else, it felt so right to have Nicky back beside me. I felt like we could do anything. Together.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

We didn’t think of a name. It was strange, but it almost felt like the baby herself was waiting to tell us her name. Maybe she was waiting for us to guess it and we just weren’t getting there, but it was definitely a case of ‘THIS IS NOT IT’ for us. We kept suggesting, but one of us would always have a story about ‘Becca the bully’ or ‘Sara the weirdo’ or ‘Meghan the pathetic’ and we couldn’t decide. We tried thinking of new names or unusual names, but they all just sounded absurd.

I suppose the most important thing that came from the naming process was the fact that both Nicky and I considered ourselves the parents. I obviously didn’t want him involved at all. Honestly, I wished he had died. Preferably a long, painful death.

At any rate, I knew I didn’t want him anywhere near me or my baby. I supposed I’d grown up with the idea that babies need two parents just long enough that it stuck. Apparently, in my mind, any two parents would work and I had determined that Nicky was the best ‘other’ parent. In my mind, she was the second parent. There was no one who knew me, who knew us as well as she did. There was no one who had sacrificed as much for us as she had. It wasn’t even a romantic thing as much as it was just a bond we had found with each other throughout this whole experience. I supposed it wasn’t even that uncommon that people who went through trauma together would feel a bond because of it. Whenever I tried to picture going back to my ‘old’ life, I couldn’t imagine feeling normal again. I couldn’t imagine ever going to the mall again, or giggling about boys with my friends. He had ripped all of that away from me, and I wasn’t sure how I would ever get back to any kind of relationships or friendships that I’d had before. Nicky felt like my other half, my safe place. I don’t know whether that was healthy or not, but that’s the way I felt about it.

The next few days were so abnormal. He didn’t step foot downstairs even once. I knew Nicky was as relieved as I was. Grandma Matthews was the one bringing us our food twice a day now, still adding in the fresh baked snacks in the afternoons. It was so surreal that we almost started to acclimate. Like it was perfectly normal that we never left this room. With the absence of his visits, and the absence of the fear of being assaulted, there was a level of almost calm that surrounded us. I didn’t know quite how to put it, really. We were much happier just seeing the old woman who visited us with food and gifts for the baby. It was almost like we could pretend everything was fine.

One day, she brought down a gift of knitted baby booties. They were so adorable that both Nicky and I were oohing and awing over them.
“Did you make these?” Nicky asked.

“I did,” she answered in her abrupt way.

“Do you think you could teach us how to do it? Knit things for the baby?” Nicky looked far more excited about the prospect of knitting than I would have expected. She went on, with almost a dreamy sound in her voice. “I have always wished I could knit. I’d love to knit myself something, too! Do you know how to knit adult sized things, too?”

The old woman seemed a bit suspicious as usual, but Nicky’s enthusiasm finally seemed to win her over. “I suppose I could do that. It’s easy enough.” She always used the least amount of words necessary. It was like she was only allowed so many words a day and had to budget them out.

I smiled, picking up on the excitement that was bubbling in the air. “Nicky, we could make each other sweaters for Christmas!”

Nicky actually squealed with delight. I was so shocked, I thought I’d fall off the bed. “What a wonderful idea! Let’s do it!” She turned to Ms. Matthews. “Do you think we could learn to knit in time? That we could make sweaters by Christmas?”

I realized there was an undercurrent here that I wasn’t quite understanding. Nicky was up to something.

The old lady twisted up her face, thinking about how long it would take to knit sweaters, I supposed. “You could maybe knit a scarf that quick. I’ll bring the things tomorrow if I can find some extra yarn for you. My boy brings me yarn whenever he goes to town, so I should have plenty.” The energy in the air was turning old Ms. Matthews into a veritable chatterbox all of the sudden. I smiled at the thought, still trying to figure out what Nicky was up to. I was actually thrilled with the idea of learning to knit. I needed something to do during all of the long hours each day. Anything to take my mind off of the stress of the baby coming. It was almost December and I knew our time was running out. The baby was due sometime soon. I wished I had a more concrete due date, but from everything I’d read, the due date can vary for weeks in either direction anyway. I rubbed my belly while I tried to focus on knitting prospects.

Ms. Matthews was gathering up her things, the glasses from our milk, and the plates she’d brought with her. She was always very diligent about taking her things back upstairs. I wasn’t sure if she’d even let us use her knitting needles unless she was there to watch us. With that thought came the realization of what Nicky had been aiming for. Knitting needles could make a good weapon in the right circumstances. I rubbed my belly again, just thinking of getting out of this cellar once and for all.

Once she closed and locked the upstairs door, I turned to Nicky. “So what’s the plan, then?”

She smiled. “Caught that, did you? I hope she didn’t think anything of it.”

“Nah, I think she just thought you were excited. I could tell something was up when you squealed with delight. I almost fell off the bed in shock before I realized you were up to something nefarious.”

“Well,” Nicky said, wiggling her eyebrows. “I might be the squealing type, you never know.”

“I don’t buy it, not for a second,” I said. Once again, that tiny flicker of hope was blossoming inside of me. Everything seemed full of possibilities.

“Okay, so I’m not the squealing, giggling type.” Nicky shrugged, then hit me with a smile that sent my heart fluttering. “I am, however, the manipulative type. I think if we can get the old bat to trust us with the knitting needles, we can make it so they become the key to our freedom.”

I had a sudden, jarring thought. “You’re not thinking of killing the old woman, are you?”

“No!” Nicky looked surprised. “I don’t want to even hurt her, but we might need to put her out of commission. At least tie her up or something.”

“I hate the thought of hurting her. She’s so old and frail, and she really seems to be excited about the baby.”

“Lila, I don’t want to hurt her either, but you have to remember that she’s the reason we’re still here. She nearly killed me with that damn gun, remember?”
I nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess I’ve just gotten used to her by this point. She comes down with homemade treats every day. You know what they say about the way to a man’s heart being through his stomach, right? I think it’s even more accurate for a pregnant woman.” Nicky was trying not to laugh at me. “I’m serious, Nicky. If she keeps this up, I might adopt her!”

She lost her battle and laughed at me. “Oh, Lila, you are such a softie. It’s a good thing I’m here to keep you on track. Seriously, though, if we can talk her into showing us how to knit and maybe even get her to trust us with the needles when she’s not here, we could have a weapon. I doubt they’d be strong enough to stab through bone, but we could maybe get him in the neck or something. Hell, anything that hurts him enough to give us time to get out of here.”

“So we get him out of commission, then what? What if Ms. Matthews is up there with a gun again?” I asked, shuddering at the memory of Nicky falling down the stairs after being shot.

“Well, remember she was on guard because he was gone. I don’t think she’s going to be waiting upstairs with a gun if she thinks he’s down here with us. I think she pretty much avoids being anywhere around when he comes down. She probably wants to pretend that nothing is going on down here. I bet she won’t be expecting anything at all.”

“I hope you’re right.” I was so nervous after the failed escape attempts. I knew one more failure would surely end up with us being killed. I rubbed my belly, thinking of the little innocent life growing inside of me.

“Lila, we can’t stay here. You know we have to get out.” She took my hands in hers. “I know it’s been a little easier this past little while, since he’s been avoiding us, but you know that’s not going to last. It’s just a matter of time before he comes down here again, wanting sex or wanting to beat on me or you for some imagined slight.” She squeezed my hands again. “I know you’re scared for us, for the baby, but we have to try. Are you with me?”
“Of course I am. I’ll try not to let my nerves take over. So what’s the plan? Do we have a plan yet?”

“I was thinking that maybe next time he comes down, after we get the knitting stuff going, you could distract his attention. Maybe get him to feel the baby kicking or something.”

I shuddered at the thought. I hated to even think about him touching me or feeling the baby even that much. “I hate it, but it would be the best way to distract him. Then you would come up and stab him in the neck or something?”
“That’s what I’m thinking. Hell, if I could hit the right spot, he’d be dead before we even get up the stairs.” She was picturing it in her head, I could tell by the look on her face. “It could be really messy, though. Blood will be everywhere.”
I looked at her. “Hey, as long as it’s his blood and not ours, I’m fine with that. It sounds like it’s time to take up knitting.”

We didn’t see Ms. Matthews until the next morning, but she came prepared. Not only did she bring our food for the day, but she also brought a huge cloth bag packed full of yarn and a set of knitting needles for each of us. She was still quiet, but still obviously excited. She handed us each a set of knitting needles. I was surprised to see how big they were, but they were made of wood, so that seemed like a good thing. They would hopefully be easy to sharpen a bit by just grinding the end against the rough stone walls.

“These are bigger than I thought they’d be,” said Nicky, echoing my thoughts.
The old woman just gave her a tolerant smile. “It’s easier for beginners to use bigger needles, in my opinion. You won’t be able to make clothes for the baby right away, but you could make a blanket.”

She had us each pick out some yarn to start with, and I found myself quickly getting distracted from the actual point of getting the needles. I picked out some soft pink yarn, excited at the thought of making something with my own two hands for my little girl. She showed us how to get started; Nicky took a bit longer with her arm, which hadn’t quite healed right, but I seemed to be a natural. Ms. Matthews seemed really thrilled that I was learning so quickly.

“Is this right?” Nicky asked, holding up a skewed looking knot of yarn. I almost laughed at how comically bad it was.

“Oh my word!” Ms. Matthews looked concerned. I could tell she had little hope that Nicky would learn anything.

We sat together knitting for the next hour or so. It was mostly silent, except for Nicky asking for help here and there. I found that I really enjoyed the process. Seeing row after row of knitted fabric coming together was fascinating to me. I felt more relaxed than I had in a long time. Relaxed and distracted from reality. I wished I had thought to ask for knitting lessons months ago. I could have had a whole wardrobe for the baby by the time she got here.

Finally, Ms. Matthews looked up like she just realized it was getting late. “I’m going to need to get my chair down here if I’m going to be down here every day. My poor old back isn’t up to sitting down so low.” She was struggling to get to her feet and Nicky helped her up. “I’ll be back down tomorrow with the knitting things again.”

“But I’m not even close to done yet! Can’t you stay for a bit longer?” I figured she was more likely to leave the needles if I asked, since she seemed to be quite proud of my skills.

“I really need to get back upstairs and fix some dinner.” She hesitated, obviously wondering if she should leave the knitting things with us or not. She apparently decided to just let us keep them and shrugged her bony little shoulders. “Well, I suppose I can leave them here with you.” She looked at Nicky’s miserable excuse for knitting and shook her head. “I don’t suppose you’ll hurt anything, but I doubt you’re going to get far with that. Maybe I should take your needles so you don’t make it worse.”
“Oh no! I’m sure Lila can help me try again. I really want to learn!” Nicky sounded sincere, even to my ears.

“Well, all right, don’t get your dander up. My goodness.” She took her own knitting, and the bag of extra yarn, and started to leave.

“Wait! Do you think I could pick out one more color to work with, just in case I finish this one before you come back?” I was seriously excited about this whole knitting thing, I had almost forgotten the whole point of learning how to do it in the first place.

She let me pick out another ball of yarn and then went upstairs. We heard the door lock at the top and then her quiet footsteps heading off to do whatever it is she did up there.

“Wow,” Nicky said.

“What?”
“You’re quite the teacher’s pet, aren’t you?” I looked up from my intense focus on the yarn and saw a big smile on her face.

“Oh. Yeah,” I said with a smile. “I guess I do get a bit obsessed with things. I love it, though.” I held up my nice long knitted project. “Look! It’s almost a scarf already!” I looked at her mess of yarn and smirked just a little. “I think you’re just jealous.”

“You’re probably right. I suppose you’ll have to be the one to keep us warm with all of your knitted goodies. Me? I’m going to beef up my strength instead. I need to be ready to go whenever he comes back.” She dropped to the floor and started doing push ups, obviously favoring her good arm.

“Good idea.” I focused on my knitting again, the sound of Nicky exercising and the soft clicking of my knitting needles making the background music for our evening.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

He didn’t come down for days. We hadn’t heard the truck leave, but we thought he surely had to be gone. I didn’t hear his heavy steps above us, and the old lady was the one bringing us our food. It was fine with me that he was gone, but at the same time, we knew we needed to deal with things sooner than later. My belly felt like it was ready to burst. I could barely walk without waddling, and I had to pee every five minutes. At least, that’s what it felt like.
I was marking the days and it was getting close. Too close. I had been marking the days for almost a year now. I made the mark on the wall that morning. I counted and recounted. It was day 364. Of course, I was probably off by a day or two. That first escape attempt had probably thrown me off at the very least. Still. 364 days. It was time. I actually woke Nicky up and showed her. There was something about the number, some little part of me that needed this to be done. It was a sign. I couldn’t bear to let this go any longer. One year was enough. I was done. I actually cried on her shoulder, this near ‘anniversary’ hit me harder than I expected. It was time to put our plan into action.

“Tomorrow, first thing, we’ll get him down here one way or another.” Nicky was my rock. She knew what I needed without me even having to verbalize it.

“Tomorrow,” I repeated. “Tomorrow, I will make one last mark on the wall and then I’ll let the chips fall where they may. Anything has got to be better than this.”

“We’re going to make it, Lila. Me, you, the baby. We’re going to get out of here, and he’s not going to be able to stop us.” She looked at me with so much intensity that I almost flinched. I actually felt her strength flowing through me just then. I felt her solid commitment to me, to us. I really believed she would get us out of here. Even more than that, I knew she trusted me to help her as well. We leaned on each other. As much as she was my rock, I was hers. We were in this together, and we were going to get out of this together. I was ready.

We spent that day going over our plan. Over and over again until we had covered every eventuality. I planned to fake labor pains and get him to come to check on me. We thought for sure that he wouldn’t trust anyone else to take care of that part of things. Once he was distracted by my ‘labor,’ Nicky would jump him from behind, and she’d do her best to stab him in the neck. If, by any chance, she failed at that, I would have a weapon as well. The stupid spoon we’d used to clear out the mortar around the rock. The one that had been sharpened almost to a point. We’d almost forgotten about it until the last second. It was too short to do much damage, but it was better than nothing.

I was going to put it under the mattress so it was easy to reach. When he was on his way downstairs, I’d place it under my pillow or in the waistband of my pants. If Nicky wasn’t able to get the job done alone, I would be there as backup. We had worked through every mistake that we’d made before now. We knew to get the keys from him before racing up the stairs. We knew to plan on the crazy old woman being on guard. We didn’t expect that at all, but we weren’t just going to go racing through the house expecting nothing from her, either. It was time to get serious and we had our attack planned out like it was war. This was our final battle, and we were absolutely determined to win.

When he did finally show up, we were not expecting it at all. He came down in the middle of the night when we were dead asleep. I heard him first and tried to wake Nicky, but she was sleeping like the dead. I felt his hands on me, feeling around, obviously looking for Nicky. I heard her mumble something sleepily until he grabbed her, dragging her out of the bed. I heard the clink of metal and knew he was putting cuffs onto her. I struggled to get myself upright to help, to do something, but he already had her halfway across the room. She was fighting him, I could hear her struggling against him.

“Where are they? Your weapons?” His voice was so cold that I felt like someone had injected me with ice. Dread filled me. The old woman must have told him about our knitting. I was full of chaotic emotion. Fear, dread, frustration that every damn step of the way, our plans were thwarted. I couldn’t take it anymore. Surely there was only so much a human being could take before they went completely insane. There was lump in my throat. My mind raced, trying to figure out how to stall him, how to win this round. I couldn’t just give up our only hope of beating him. Those knitting needles were our only weapon.

I heard Nicky scream in pain. A sound that shattered all of my defenses, the sound didn’t let up. A blinding light shone in my eyes. He had a flashlight or something. I squinted against the light, holding up both hands in defeat. He lowered the light and Nicky stopped screaming. I could hear her panting, trying to get herself together.

Her voice was filled with pain. “Just give them to him, Lila.” She was barely able to choke out the words.

I dug the knitting needles out from their hiding place and started towards him. There was barely enough light from his flashlight to see, but I could tell where he was. As I got close, he jerked Nicky backwards. She moaned in pain.

“Just drop them and go back to bed. Don’t make a move or I will kill her right in front of you.” His voice was clear and cold. There was no doubt in my mind that he would do exactly that.

I dropped the needles and went back to bed, my arms automatically curling around my huge stomach.

He was dragging her to the stairs. I realized that he was taking her away again and I started to scream.

Nicky was crying, begging and yelling all at once. “Please let me go! Let me stay! Please! You got what you wanted!” Her voice broke through my own fear and pain. I screamed for her, crying so hard I was making myself sick. I heard her struggling all the way up the stairs, heard him grunt in pain as she must have gotten her shot in at some point.

I was halfway up the stairs, determined to help her, to try something, anything, when I saw the light from upstairs as he opened the door.

I was stuck in the darkness as he slammed the door shut and I heard the key in the lock. I sank down on the steps as I listened to Nicky’s screams as they slowly faded away. I heard another door slam and her screams came to an abrupt halt.

For once, I didn’t cry. I was too shocked. I couldn’t figure out why he had taken her away. Had the old woman told him about the knitting needles? Did he figure out our plan on his own? Was he going to kill her? I had so many thoughts racing through my head that I couldn’t even grasp one to focus on. I sat there on the hard wooden step just stunned to silence. I couldn’t even make the choice to go back down stairs. I couldn’t move. I felt paralyzed. What were we going to do now? Those stupid knitting needles were our last hope. My brain raced over and over again, trying to think of even the smallest glimmer of hope.

I don’t know how long I sat there. I had no way of telling time. I could see down to the cellar and watched as the sun started to come up, bringing the dull light of day into our prison.

The sun was shining full into the room before I heard movement again. My feet were numb with the cold, my hands felt like ice. A key rattled in the lock. I still didn’t know what to do with myself. Was he coming back for me? Did it even matter anymore? I couldn’t decide.

I heard sobbing as the door opened and that jolted me right out of my fog. I stood up, my fight or flight response racing through me. Light filled the stairwell as the door opened all the way. Nicky was there, silhouetted in the doorway. He apparently pushed her and she stumbled, nearly falling. I stood up, bracing myself, and caught her before she could fall. The door slammed behind us, the key once again locking us in. Nicky was shaking in my arms. I had no idea what was happening. No idea why he’d taken her and then had brought her back. I helped her down the stairs and back into our room. “Nicky, are you all right?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

I couldn’t seem to stop the questions. The panic, the relief of having her back, was making me feel like I was hyped up on something. “But why did he let you come back? Did he hurt you? What happened?”

“STOP!” She stopped at her own voice, going so still, it was as if she’d been suddenly frozen in place. “Please stop asking. He… I think he was going to kill me. He was ranting, furious, ready to bury me with the others.” Shaking her head after a brief pause, she continued, “He’s killed before, Lila. He was going to do it, but then we heard you screaming. All he cares about is that baby, so I told him that if you kept getting so upset, it would hurt the baby. I convinced him that you needed me to stay calm. That’s how I got him to let me back down here, but I’m absolutely certain he doesn’t plan to let us live after the baby is born. That’s his focus now, the baby.”

A chill went through me at the thought of him getting his hands on my child. The need to escape before the baby came had just ramped up 1000%.

I put my arms around Nicky to help hold her up. She was shaking so hard, I was afraid her legs wouldn’t even hold her until we got to the bed. I started guiding her in that direction, but she stopped me.

“No, I need a shower first.” Her voice was quiet, filled with a pain that left me aching. Her hands were still cuffed behind her, so I left her to dig around until I found our key. I unlocked the cuffs and let her go take a shower. I was waiting for her, just in case she needed help. She was sobbing in the shower, the sound sending waves of pain over me. She sounded utterly broken, her pain bleeding through to the very core of me. I sank to the floor outside of the bathroom and let the tears flow.

I don’t know why he had taken her upstairs instead of keeping her down here, but it was obvious that things were different now. Maybe he didn’t want to cause more stress for the baby, or maybe he was just being a sick bastard who felt like torturing me as well by letting me think that he was taking her away permanently. I wasn’t sure what the real answer was, but her pain was tearing me up inside.

I stood up when I heard the shower turn off. I was already in bed by the time she came out of the bathroom. She crawled in beside me, wrapping her arms around me and rubbing my belly until she felt the baby pushing against her hand.

“We have to kill that bastard. Tomorrow isn’t even soon enough.” Her voice was quiet, but strong and clear. I knew he had pushed her too far. We had to find a way to escape him before this happened again. She was too close to breaking completely. I couldn’t stand to see her hurting.

“I don’t know how we can beat him.” I tried to keep the hopelessness out of my voice, but it was no use. I felt utterly defeated.

“The spoon, where is it?” Her voice was raspy from all of the screaming.

“The spoon?”

“Yes, it was worn to a near point, right? We can do something. We can fucking hold him down and stab him in his fucking eyes. I don’t care. Whatever it takes. I’m done being his slave.” There was something in her tone that made me believe her. I knew she wouldn’t put up with anything from him anymore. She might not take the way out that Valerie did, just giving up, but come hell or high water, she’d get herself killed just by fighting back. I knew we were desperately running out of time, and not just because of the baby, either.

“I had almost forgotten about the spoon! It’s still behind the washing machine. We can get it... as soon as you get some rest.”

I felt her moving, getting out of bed. “No. No more rest until he’s dead.” She got out of bed, heading for the washing machine. It was so heavy that normally it was a struggle. She must have been pumped full of adrenaline today because there was no hesitation, no struggle. She just practically picked up the heavy steel beast and moved it back. She reached around, feeling for the spoon. I knew the second she found it because she let out a nearly hysterical laugh. I didn’t know what to say, so I just sat there in silence. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Until she held out the remaining ‘spoon.’ Sure, it looked sharp as hell, but it was too short to do much of anything.

She screamed with rage, her poor tortured voice cracking under the pressure. The spoon went flying across the room, pinging off of the stone wall. Nicky got up and lifted the washer a good six inches off the the ground. She was screaming, crying, beating her fists against the machine. She pushed the top of it, banging it against the stone wall and letting it crash to the floor. I scrambled to my feet and grabbed the short little ‘weapon’ just in case. It might not do much, but it could possibly created a distraction.
I was going to let her just work out her rage, but it just seemed to be making her more furious. She started kicking it with her bare feet, still pushing and punching, when I heard a sharp ‘clang’ of metal. I looked down to see a long, sharp piece of metal fall to the floor, just as she dropped the front of the machine and went to kick it again.

I saw what was coming and I screamed at her, hoping to break through before she kicked at it again. “NICKY! STOP!”

My voice must have had some sort of edge that brought her down. She stopped, mid kick. I ran to her, pulling the broken piece of the machine out of the way.

“You almost kicked that! It would have sliced your foot all the way to your ankle!” I was yelling at her, the panic of watching her reach the edge of sanity hitting me full force. “You can’t give up!” I was yelling and waving that damn piece of metal like some sort of raving maniac.

Nicky was looking at me, at the long, sharp piece of metal in my hand, her face lighting up with a smile. “Lila, you’re a fucking genius,” she said, her voice full of awe. She reached up and grabbed the metal bar out of my hand. “The perfect weapon was here all the time. I just had to lose my damn mind to find it.”

I watched as she ran her fingers down the side of it, feeling how sharp it was. She was right. It would make the perfect dagger. We couldn’t have asked for a better weapon. “My god, Nicky, we’re going to get out of here.” I finally felt a spark of real hope. This was what we had needed. This was our golden ticket. I smiled and put my hand over hers. “We will get him. Next time he comes down, we’ll do it. No matter what happens, we will take him down.” This time, it was my turn to make the vow. “We will win this. I promise. We need to rest until he comes back down so we have the strength to beat him. Let’s lie back down.”

Nicky looked like she was going to resist me, but I think she saw how utterly exhausted I was and took pity on me. She didn’t realize how close she was to being utterly exhausted, either. The adrenaline was still pumping through her.

We both went to the bed, lying down on it for what we hoped was the last time. She automatically curled up around me, her arm wrapping around my stomach.

I felt her body relaxing as she rested against me, her hand going slack on my stomach. I was awake for a long while, listening as her breathing deepened and slowed. I couldn’t quite get comfortable, but I didn’t want to wake her so I tried to stay still. My back was hurting so badly that I had to adjust myself. Nicky was so deeply asleep at that point that she didn’t even move. I still couldn’t sleep, even though the exhaustion was nearly overwhelming my senses. I kept replaying the plan to get him out of the way, picturing her stabbing him as I distracted him with the baby.

I rubbed my belly as I got up and started pacing the room. I was so damn tired, I could barely think straight, but my back was absolutely killing me. I figured that it was due to the baby being so close to her birthday, my body wasn’t used to carrying around this much weight. I walked back and forth, trying to come up with alternate plans in case something went wrong. I was rubbing my back and pacing when I felt a gush of fluid between my legs. I stopped and stared at my legs. Clear fluid was soaking my sweats. I knew what had just happened, logically. My mind was rebelling against it.

“No, not now!” I whispered in the dark. A panic struck me so hard that I almost physically stumbled from the intensity of it. This couldn’t be happening, not now. Not here. At the same time, I realized that there was no going back. My mind was screaming at me to stop everything. Make it all stop. I was terrified of being in labor. So absolutely horrified that it was happening while we were still here. I absolutely could not handle having a baby here. Not in this prison. We were so damn close to escaping, this was the last complication we needed.

My mind was so busy freaking out that I didn’t even realize that I was moaning in pain until Nicky came running to my side. “Lila, are you okay?” Her voice was full of concern. I was lost in my mind. I’m not even sure how many times she asked before I answered, but I could tell she was getting quite frantic by the time I responded.

“The baby.” That’s all I got out before a blinding pain hit me. I staggered from the intensity of it. It literally almost brought me to my knees. I gasped from it, shocked at how much it hurt. “Oh my god,” I choked out. “The baby is coming.”

“Oh, shit. SHIT!” Nicky helped me over to the bed, but I didn’t want to lie down. I’d read that it was better to walk if you could, or at least not lie down straight away.

“No, just stay with me.” I would have said more, but I was in too much pain. It almost felt like the baby was trying to climb out of my back. I wanted to lean on something, so I slowly made my way to the washer and dryer, Nicky supporting me the whole way. Another pain hit just as I leaned forward on the washing machine, the cool metal actually felt wonderful on my forehead. I groaned loudly as the pain washed over me. I swore I could feel my body pressing, opening, changing. The baby was still moving and kicking as soon as the contraction let up. That was a huge relief to me. My biggest fear was that something would go wrong. So far, so good. I rested my head on the machine, letting my body sink down a bit as I waited for another contraction to hit. I was so tired, I had no idea how I was going to manage to give birth.

“I can’t,” I gasped. “I can’t do this.”

Nicky was right there, her hand rubbing my lower back as if she could feel right where I needed her. “You can do this, Lila. You’re the strongest person I know.”

I moaned again as another pain hit. “We need to time it,” I said as soon as that wave of pain had hit. “I need to know.”

“Okay, I’ll count. You let me know when the next one comes.” I heard her counting under her breath.

“NO!” I practically shouted. I felt an overwhelming need to get out, to leave. “I can’t have this baby here! She can’t be here!” I was sobbing. “Please, Nicky, get me out of here!”

Nicky was near tears herself. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t… just a minute. Are you okay, right here? Can I help you to the bed? I’ll get him down here now. Is that what you want?”

I nodded. “Distraction. Big distraction.” That was all I was able to get out before the next contraction hit. They were coming closer together.

Once that contraction had eased up, Nicky helped me make my way back to our bed. I knew that it wasn’t sterile by any stretch of the imagination, but we had very little choice at the moment. I hadn’t planned to still be here when the baby came, and I wouldn’t have had much choice if I had known. It was going to have to do.

I made it to the bed and lay down on my side. That seemed to ease the pain in my back just a little, but a little was better than nothing so I was happy enough.

“I’ll be right back, love. Don’t have that baby yet!” Nicky whispered into my ear, brushing my hair back out of my face. I could see the worry etched on her face. I nodded, sending her on with a weak smile.

I heard her storm up the stairs and start banging on the door. Her voice was full of panic as she started screaming through the locked door. “The baby is coming! The baby is coming! HELP! The baby is coming! Help!” She just kept repeating that over and over. I took the short, razor sharp spoon handle in my grip like some sort of talisman. I closed my eyes and prayed that he would be the one to come down first. We could deal with the frail, little old lady, but I didn’t want to have to chance meeting him somewhere unexpected.

I heard his heavy footsteps above my head. I almost smiled, but another contraction hit. The pain made me forget everything except the baby. I focused my mind on her, picturing her, picturing my body doing what it was made to do. I wished my mother was there. I could barely think straight, but I wanted my mom.

Nicky heard his footsteps as well and stopped banging. I heard her running back down the stairs and over to me. She leaned down and whispered into my ear, “He’s coming. I’m so sorry it took so long. I’m going to get this done for real this time. I will. I’m sorry.” I watched as she stuck the long, sharp piece of metal in the back of her sweats and backed up against the wall.

I didn’t even hear the door open, but I heard his loud steps and he came down the stairs. He immediately came over to the bed, and I think he could tell that this wasn’t faked. He looked almost panicked, terrified, even. I smiled a bit inside, hoping that he was scared out of his mind. I wanted him out of my way, out of my life, and I was glad that I had went into labor if it helped us accomplish our goals. I moaned in pain as he stood there looking helpless.

“Help me,” I whispered. I could see Nicky out of the corner of my eye. She was getting closer, but I knew the more distracted he was, the better chance we had of this working. I reached up and grabbed his hand, pulling him closer. “HELP ME!” I shouted at him, using all of the pain and rage I had built up to nearly pull him off balance. He was completely taken by surprise and fell to his knees in front of me. He reached for my belly, and I wanted to rip his arm off right then. I felt another contraction building, so I grabbed his hand and squeezed it as hard as I could just as I let out the most bloodcurdling scream of my life. He was staring at my stomach like he expected the baby to suddenly tear out of me like the creature in that Alien movie. He wasn’t paying attention to anything else. I brought the spoon handle up and stabbed it right into his eye. The popping I felt as it punctured his eye nearly made me retch, but I couldn’t react with the amount of pain my body was already experiencing.

He screamed, his hand going straight to his face as he jerked away from me, jumping to his feet and careening off balance. Sending him right into Nicky.

She came charging at him with a roar that sounded like it came from some great wild animal. I watched as she brought the self made dagger towards him as his momentum brought him at her. Her arm was swinging in a wide arc, coming up into the flesh of his stomach with so much force that I saw the tip of the metal break through his back. She ripped the blade back out as he screamed with his own animalistic sounds of rage and pain. He collapsed to the ground, trying to hold in the blood that was spurting from his body like some gruesome fountain. Nicky stood over him, panting, her eyes not leaving him for even a second.

It was as if time stood still in that moment. We both watched, as if this might be another time that he got the best of us. I waited with bated breath, wondering if he would jump up and kill us both any second. He took his last breath, a trickle of blood dribbling out the side of his mouth. The spoon handle still sticking from his eye. Blood was pooling under him, spreading across the floor, running into the many cracks in the cement.

Nicky stood, her shirt soaked with it. She wasn’t moving, other than her chest heaving from the exertion of the short fight. I thought she was probably in shock. I started to sit up, but another contraction hit. I started to cry out, but the pain was so intense, I just kind of went away in my head. I could feel it flowing over me in waves, but it was almost like it was far away as I stayed locked away in my mind.

By the time the contraction eased, Nicky appeared to have come back to herself. She looked at me and then down at her blood soaked shirt. I could tell she didn’t know what to do.

“Go, wash. Fast,” I said. I didn’t want my baby born with Nicky covered in blood. Maybe it was stupid, but I didn’t want that to be her first sight in this world. Nicky ran into the bathroom, ripping the shirt off as she went. I heard the shower turn on and I kept my eyes closed, not wanting the image of his dead body lying there while my baby was trying to enter the world. “Hold on, little one,” I whispered to my little girl. “We’re getting out of here!” I couldn’t believe it was finally over. We were going to be free.

The shower turned off after just a couple of minutes, and Nicky ran back to me, pulling me up to stand so we could get out of there. We’d only made it to the bottom step before another contraction hit. We stood there and waited it out, me panting from the pain, Nicky panting from the exertion of the fight. I wanted to ask if she was okay, but we didn’t have time and I didn’t have the energy for words. We could talk later.

As soon as the contraction passed, we hobbled up the stairs together. We reached the top and realized that the door was locked. Even after all of our planning, we’d forgotten a key element. Of course, we hadn’t planned on the fact that I would actually be in labor for real. I supposed we should have thought of that, but it was far too late now.

Nicky left me there and ran back down to get his keys. I heard the jingle of keys and soon she was back beside me. She stuck the key into the lock and paused. We looked at each other and I realized that this was it. This was really it. It was over. She turned the key and opened the door. We stepped out into a well worn old kitchen. The old woman was standing in front of something bubbling on the stove, stirring away like there was nothing amiss. She slowly turned and saw us standing there.

“Oh, you girls aren’t supposed to be up here. I told you that before.” She didn’t seem angry at all; she was talking to us like we were wayward toddlers who stumbled into the kitchen before it was time for dinner.

Nicky blurted out, “The man. He’s hurt. He needs you.”

Something flickered over the old woman’s face. “Oh, that Jacob. He is always getting himself into trouble.” She turned back to the stove, stirring whatever was in the pot. “He’ll have to wait. I need to stir this so it doesn’t burn. We’re having stew today!” I looked at Nicky in complete confusion. We couldn’t really just leave her here and go. She might get the gun again, and we weren’t up for that fight. Not now. I felt another contraction building and squeezed Nicky’s arm until she almost cried out.

“He needs you RIGHT NOW.” She took a step towards the old woman, reaching out. “I’ll stir the stew. I’m really good at cooking. I won’t let it burn. You have to go help him. He’s bleeding really bad.”

The old woman sighed and rolled her eyes. “Oh dear. He’s probably went and got himself beat up again. That boy.” She wiped her hands on her apron and stepped aside. I leaned against the wall, trying not to let on that I was in labor. It was getting harder as the pain got worse and worse.

She watched as Nicky stirred the stew on the stove, apparently not trusting Nicky’s cooking skills. The test was passed and the old woman headed for the stairway, her tiny, slow steps making me want to scream.

As soon as she stepped down into the stairwell, I slammed the door shut and Nicky came over to lock it with the key. She leaned against the door with a look of relief, until she noticed me.

“Oh my god, you’re completely white!” She came to me, helping me into the next room to an ancient looking couch. Once I was settled, she started to leave. “I’ll be right back. Let me find the keys to his truck. And a phone. I need to call 911. Oh god.”

We heard the old lady banging on the door, but we ignored her. I actually felt kind of bad, locking her up with her dead son, but we had no choice. We couldn’t risk it. I heard Nicky banging around in the kitchen and thought I heard her on the phone, but I wasn’t sure. I thought she might have been talking to herself at that point.

“Nicky!” I felt something changing, the contractions were barely letting up and I felt like I had to push. “NICKY!” I screamed. The baby was coming. I could feel it. I was panting hard, barely able to speak by the time she ran into the room. “Baby. Now!”

“Holy shit. Oh god. What do I do?” I cried out in pain and she freaked out even more. “Damn it, Lila! What do I do?” She finally figured out that I would need to take the wet pants off before the baby made her way out.

She helped peel the soaking wet clothes off of me and got me turned so that I was pretty much lying on the couch. I was apologizing to the baby for giving birth in such a strange place, but at least it seemed relatively clean up here. I felt the pushing sensation again and a low, guttural groan came out of me. The pressure felt like nothing I could have imagined. I could feel the baby moving downward. I was wholly focused on my body. The whole house could have caught fire just then and I wouldn’t have noticed. I could tell that Nicky was there, wiping the hair that kept falling in my face, holding my hand, and maybe even saying something. I was too far inside of my head to grasp what she was saying.

My body was splitting in two, I was sure of it. The urge to push came again and I screamed out with it, pressing down, my body burning. I felt something give, some sort of release and heard Nicky sobbing. I started crying, so completely overwhelmed beyond anything I could have ever expected. My heart was in my throat as I felt my body bearing down again. It was like my body knew exactly what to do, even though I didn’t. Nicky reached down and caught her just as she slid from my body.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Lila!” She held the baby up to me and I took my daughter in my arms for the first time. I was shaking from the intensity of the emotions. Staring into her tiny little eyes as she blinked up at me.

I looked up at Nicky, with tears streaming down my face. “She’s here. Our little girl is really real!” It was like my mind hadn’t even believed that a real, live human was going to come out of all of this. I found myself staring at her with such awe, such disbelief, I couldn’t wrap my brain around it. I felt a surge of love and suddenly my mom’s presence was there with me, too. I looked into my baby’s eyes and I felt as if my mom was there with me. I wouldn’t have been surprised to look up to see her standing there.

Zera. The name came to me as clearly as if it was being spelled out with pure light. I felt some sort of connection between me, the baby, and my mom right then. I grabbed Nicky’s hand and squeezed hard, feeling too intense to even speak.

“What’s wrong?” Nicky thought I was in pain, but it was just so overwhelming.

My emotions welled up to the surface and broke, I felt tears flooding out of me. “Zera. Her name is Zera. I don’t know why, but that’s who she is. Z-E-R-A, that’s her.”

Nicky smiled, tears sliding silently down her face as she looked between me and the tiny little girl lying on me. “Zera, huh? It’s nice to finally meet you, beautiful girl.” She rested her head on my shoulder and I could almost feel the exhaustion seeping through her as she sank into me. It was as if time paused right then. We were safe, we were free, and we weren’t even thinking about what was going to happen next.

The banging on the cellar door stopped suddenly. The lack of sound somehow seemed loud. Then I heard sirens in the background. I looked at Nicky then. “How did they find us?”

“I don’t know. Honestly, I dont’ give a shit, as long as they did!” Nicky started laughing, tears still running down her face. “I figured they thought I was a crank caller. I didn’t know where we were, I didn’t have a clue. I was hysterical and just kept saying ‘the baby is coming’ over and over. I suppose they traced the call? I just left the phone off the hook.”

I smiled and shook my head, my body still in pain, but the soft, tiny little body I was holding took all of my attention. I didn’t care about anything else. I barely noticed when the emergency people came in and all of the chaos ensued for the next while. I just held my little girl and didn’t think about anything else, until they wanted to take Nicky separately. I wouldn’t let go of her hand.

“No! She has to stay with me!” I felt the euphoric high immediately disintegrate, hysterics following close behind.

Nicky spoke up for me. “I have to stay with her. I promise to get checked out, but we have to stay together. We’re a team.” She took my hand and squeezed it, looking at me with a sweet, very relieved smile. I closed my eyes and let the medics take over. As long as Nicky would be there and my daughter was going to be okay, everything was all right with my world for now.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

My mom showed up at the hospital within hours. She was a wreck. She was yelling at the nurses before I even saw her, more in the way of near-hysteria rather than anger. She wasn’t going to wait another second to see her daughter. When she walked into my hospital room and saw me, we both burst into tears. My dad was apparently still parking the car, but Mom couldn’t wait. I supposed it was fine that he wasn’t there right away because Mom wouldn’t let me go long enough to see anyone else anyway. It was a snotty, tear filled mess. We could barely even talk through all the tears, which was kind of nice because I didn’t quite know what to say anyway. I mean, what was I supposed to say, “Hey, what have you been up to? How’s work? How’s the family?”

We finally sobered up a bit so we could talk. I didn’t know what to say at all. I didn’t know where to start. I felt so lost. I really just wanted Nicky to be there with me.

My mom spoke first. “Where is Zera? Is she okay?” She was getting all choked up.

I felt my heart in my throat. “Mom, how did you?”

“I…” A flicker of something I didn’t recognize flitted across her face before she met my eyes. “I don’t know. Not really. I… felt you. I can’t explain it.” Her voice trailed off. She looked at me with some sort of hope that I would understand. And I did.

“Mom, I felt you, too.” I almost laughed. “How did you even…?” I couldn’t begin to figure it out, but it seemed right. “You kept me alive, Mom. I felt you too.” I was near tears all over again. I wasn’t crazy, she really had been there for me.

“I would fall asleep so hard, I thought it was just because I wasn’t sleeping. The doctor gave me pills for a while, but I stopped taking them. That’s when the… episodes started. I would just fall asleep in the middle of something and I would feel you there with me. Like you needed me. I was there, but I couldn’t help you. It nearly drove me mad.”
“But you did help, Mom. You gave me hope and comfort. You will never know how much you saved me.” We hugged, sobbing all over each other.

Eventually, she pulled back and pasted a weak smile on her face. “So, where’s my granddaughter? Zera needs to meet her grandma! By the way, I looked up the name as soon as I heard it. Did you know that it means ‘beginnings’? She’s here for a new beginning, honey. We’re all going to be okay.” She squeezed my hand. “I promise you, we’re going to be there for you through everything.”

My dad burst into the room. “Honey, what can we get you? Do you need anything?” That was exactly what I expected to hear from my dad. He was always ready to bring something to the table to fix things. Of course, no take out food or shopping trip was going to fix this. Not right now.

“Can you ask them about Nicky? Please? I need to know if she’s okay. And the baby. I need to see her.”

“Baby?” My dad looked shaken. I knew the thoughts that must be going through his head. All of the blood drained from his face as he turned away. “I’ll go check…” he said as he practically stumbled out of the room.

My mom took my hand in hers again. “Honey, I have been so scared, so damn worried about you. I’m so sorry.”

I felt tears spilling from my eyes yet again. “I know, Mom. I missed you so much.”

I heard the soft swish of the door to my room. It was Nicky, standing there holding my little girl. “Hey, I found this little person hanging out wanting to see you.” Nicky’s voice sounded somewhat hesitant. I realized she probably felt a little odd with my mom there, with our whole situation being so new and precarious. She stood there, her arm in a sling, bandages on her head, and wearing a hospital gown.

“Nicky!” I almost started bawling again, but it was definitely because I was overwhelmed with happiness more than anything else. “Mom, this is Nicky. She’s my…” my voice trailed off. I didn’t know what to call her. ‘Friend’ didn’t seem to be enough of a word to convey everything we had been through, everything that we had become to each other. I was at a loss. “She was the one who saved me. Who saved us.”

My mom stood up and embraced Nicky in a hug until the baby cried out. Both Nicky and my mom jumped apart, and my mom looked at Zera, then at me.

“Say hello to your granddaughter.”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen my mother completely speechless. She turned and gently took the baby from Nicky’s arms, staring down into that tiny face with a look of awe. “Hey there, Zera. I’m your grandma!” Her voice was filled with a wonder that I recognized from meeting my little girl for the first time. She came over to the bed, holding my daughter, and looked up at me with tears in her eyes. “My god, Lila, she’s beautiful. She looks just like you.” The baby’s cries rang out in the room until she was settled in my arms. “How did you do it? All by yourself?”

I looked at Nicky and back to my mom. “Actually, Nicky was there with me. She kept us safe, but we kind of didn’t expect her to get here so soon.”

“Well, babies have a way of making their own plans.” She laughed a bit, totally mesmerized with the baby.
I had been afraid that the baby would seem… I don’t know, tainted in some way. Like a reminder of all the bad things. Especially for my parents. I wasn’t sure about how my dad would react to her, but my mom was obviously already in love with her. I guessed instead of a barrier, she was more like a buffer. It was easy to talk about the baby, easy enough to look at her sweet little face and avoid the ugly side of things for the moment. I wasn’t ready to discuss everything. I was exhausted and hadn’t slept in two days.

I really just wanted Nicky to curl up beside me and to go to sleep for about twelve hours until I felt rested again.

A nurse came into the room. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we really need to let these ladies get some rest.”

“When can they go home?” my mom asked.

“We have to run some tests, just to make sure everything is okay, but they should be able to go home tomorrow. It’s really up to the doctor who will be making rounds in the morning.”

I took my mom’s hand. “Mom, it’s okay. Go home. I’m so exhausted, I really do need some sleep. Come back in the morning and bring me some coffee. I think I’m going to need it.”

“Your father and I will get a hotel across the street until you’re ready to go home. I don’t want to be hours away from you. Maybe not ever again.” With that one sentence, I realized I didn’t even know where I was.

My mom left the room after more hugs and more tears. “Mom, it’s going to be okay. I love you. Tell dad I’ll see him in the morning.” I was so tired, my words were slurring. I knew I was going to be asleep in minutes. Nicky started to follow my mom out the door. “Nicky. Wait.”

She turned and came back to me, sitting on the chair by my bed and taking my hand. I saw my mom glance back at us, taking in the scene of our little cozy looking family. She smiled. Just a small smile, but I could tell that she loved me. That she would love Nicky just as well.

“Lila, you need to sleep. Let me send the nurse in to get the baby. We can talk tomorrow.”

“No. Please don’t leave me. Can you just stay? Please? I am terrified to be here alone.”

Nicky smiled, exhausted herself. “Well, scooch over then, you big bed hog. I think we can both fit here since you’re not big as a house anymore.”

I gave her a tired smile. I knew the nurses wouldn’t like it, but just for the moment, I needed exactly that. I moved over, Nicky climbed up and curled up around me like she always had, the baby snuggled up against my now empty belly. It felt right.

“Goodnight, love. Go to sleep.” Nicky’s soft words were the last thing I heard before I drifted off.

Epilogue

Almost One Year Later

The Christmas tree practically lit up the whole room at my parents’ house. They had went a bit overboard. Their first grandchild’s first Christmas. The first Christmas since the chaos. I felt a bit heartsick over it all. It was hard to remember all of the years ‘Before’ and not remember one year ago. It was as if my year in captivity had colored over all of my history with a brush of gray. I didn’t know how to reconnect with the me who used to exist. Everything still fell into the ‘Before’ and ‘After’ for me. For everyone else, too.

Don’t get me wrong, things were definitely better after a year. My mom still panicked if I forgot to text her that I got home all right. There were still stilted conversations when someone brought up an unpleasant memory, but didn’t realize it at first.

There were really positive things, too. Nicky had gained a family after being raised in foster homes. We were renting an apartment together and raising Zera together. There were stranger things than a child having two moms, so we rarely got questions about her paternity.

I felt closer to my mom than ever. My dad had come around pretty immediately when he met Zera. He was the most doting grandpa anyone had ever seen. The whole family took Nicky in like she had always been a part of us. We had a lot going for us. We were both still going to therapy regularly. It was good to have someone to talk to about things, even if we didn’t need to go every week anymore. The bruises and broken bones had healed. The nightmares had mostly faded away. Life was good for the most part. It really was. I was so thankful for my daughter and for having Nicky in my life.

I had met with Valerie’s family after I talked with my therapist about it. I contacted them in an email at first. I wasn’t sure if they’d want to see me or not. I knew they were grieving after her body was found buried on the property. Her mother invited me to their house. It was a hard thing to do, but I was glad I did it. I was able to gloss over most of what happened in that cellar, but I had to let them know that Valerie had loved them and had told me so many wonderful stories about them. Her mother showed me her photos from school, from church, and from concerts she’d played in. It was a bittersweet visit, but I was so glad I went.

They had dug up several bodies on the property. Some had been there for years, maybe even a decade or more. I was still not sure how I managed to be the one who survived it all. I credit Nicky’s strength for that. Maybe it was the combination of the two of us, I didn’t know. Either way, I was so thankful that we got out of there before anyone else died.

I didn’t feel at all bad about him being dead, either. He destroyed the lives of so many people for so long, I figured we did the world a favor. When I looked at my daughter now, I saw nothing of him. I supposed I had nagging worries sometimes. What if she inherited his mental illness? What if she turned out to be anything other than normal and wonderful? Then I’d see her smile at me and all I’d see was love. We’d take each day as it came and if she needed help someday, we’d take care of that need when it came. I wouldn’t live in fear of maybe.

*

Oh, yeah. The old lady in the house had been his mother. Apparently, she’d had twin sons and raised them alone for most of her life after her husband died. Something had always been wrong with Jacob, ever since he was a child. There were rumors he’d been suspected of all sorts of sick crimes, even as a child, but nothing was ever proven. He was apparently really good at talking the talk when it was important, that’s how he got away with so much.

His brother had disappeared at some point, I’m not really sure when. There were suspicions at the time that Jacob had done something to his brother, but, again, they never proved it. Some people thought he just wanted to escape his crazy family, and I supposed that would have been just as believable.

It was scary to think that people like him were just living out in the world, with people believing their lies, buying their stories and excuses, just because they could be charming for the moment when it was needed. It was frustrating to me that he got away with so much devastation for decades, without ever getting caught. I supposed that was what made me apply to the police academy.

Yeah, that was what I was doing now. I was going to be a detective some day. I was going to help keep other girls safe from psycho bastards like Jacob Matthews. My little girl was going to grow up with two moms, and all three of us? We were going to be bad asses, fighting to make the world a safer place, one day at a time.

Acknowledgements

This book came about thanks to @mariannewest on steemit.com. Her freewrite prompts reignited my love of writing and spawned numerous longer stories in varying genres from romance, mystery, horror and this dark psychological thriller.

Rebecca Hamilton from Author Grow was absolutely invaluable during the launching, editing and marketing of this book. I highly recommend her services, especially if (like me) you have no clue where to even start. She’s great with the more experienced authors as well, which made me a little nervous. Still, she was incredibly helpful answering my many questions, arranging things in a way that was easy to understand and helping me every step of the way.

Schwartz Fiction Edits was fantastic to work with throught he nerve wracking process of handing over my first book. Her editing was great, her comments helpful not only for this book, but taught me a lot about writing as I go forward. I definitely recommend her!

If you’re interested in more of my writing, you can find my short stories, freewrites and news about upcoming releases at bynalways.com

Thank you so much for reading!

Byn