life within me. I wept until the fabric was soaked, great wracking sobs that left me breathless and my head throbbing with pain. I wept until my mouth was dry. I cried until I was exhausted and shaking.
And then I slept. For the first time since I had entered this place of nightmares, I slept peacefully and without dreams. No Master to chase me through the dark corridors of my mind. No Travis plunging that needle into my neck over and over. None of the most painful sort of dreams—those when I imagined myself escaping, running free over the plains, climbing the mesas to dance on their flat tops, free and exhilarated until the moment I opened my eyes.
Chapter 12 : In the Darkness of the Moon
Day 95: If Travis is correct, I've been here about three months now. That makes me somewhere in the range of 14 or 15 weeks pregnant, I think. I write the days of my captivity instead of the date because that is the only number that matters anymore. It's somewhere around Thanksgiving now. I'm sure my parents have given up looking by now. They will sit around their table with extended family and the stuffed turkey and the casseroles and pies, and they will hold hands and pray. Will they pray for me? Do they still hold out hope that I'm alive, or have they given up on me? For their sakes, I hope it's the latter. Accepting the inevitable is always easier than false hope.
The snow doesn't stay all the time out here. I know it must still be cold, because frost collects on my window. I see the bush straining against some pretty stiff wind.
Travis always leaves the tray from one meal until he brings the next. I don't always get a spoon. I always give it back so that nobody suspects. I've started up working on the window again. The second side is almost free. I have started requesting oatmeal and soup whenever I can, but it seems like Master has been home a lot more lately because mostly I get the nasty toast and lunch meat sandwiches.
I have wasted far too much time in depression and self-pity. Brooding won't get me out of here. I have to work hard. Already I fear that by the time the glass is free, I will be too far into my pregnancy to fit through the window. It's probably already too late. I wasted precious time. I won't waste any more.
Day 97: The baby moves a lot. It still feels like little butterfly kisses. I feel horrible for even writing this, but I don't feel much of a connection with the baby. I know it isn't the baby's fault, but it makes me feel so unclean to be carrying a child that is part of him. Like even though he no longer touches me, he's always inside of me. It makes me feel sick to think about. Even though I know the baby is innocent of his or her father's crimes.
The Bible talks a lot about forgiveness. One time somebody asked Jesus if they should forgive seven times, and Jesus said not seven, but seventy times seven. Obviously nobody can keep track of that many times forgiving someone else, so it probably means to keep forgiving as long as they keep hurting you. But I don't know how to forgive Travis and Master. How do you forgive someone who does something like this? I want Master to go to hell. I want him to feel the pain that he's dealt to others. I want him to burn in fire forever. God, forgive me for these thoughts, but that is how I feel. I know that we all deserve hell, but surely some people do more than others...
Day 100: The second side of the window is finished. It snowed again last night.
My belly hurts. It's a sharp pain when I stand up or cough. I don't know whether to hope everything is okay, or hope that it isn't. I think it would hurt to lose this baby, but wouldn't it be better for this baby to go straight to heaven instead of coming into this world? If the baby dies now, it will never feel pain or trouble. But that seems so horrible, to
And then I slept. For the first time since I had entered this place of nightmares, I slept peacefully and without dreams. No Master to chase me through the dark corridors of my mind. No Travis plunging that needle into my neck over and over. None of the most painful sort of dreams—those when I imagined myself escaping, running free over the plains, climbing the mesas to dance on their flat tops, free and exhilarated until the moment I opened my eyes.
Chapter 12 : In the Darkness of the Moon
Day 95: If Travis is correct, I've been here about three months now. That makes me somewhere in the range of 14 or 15 weeks pregnant, I think. I write the days of my captivity instead of the date because that is the only number that matters anymore. It's somewhere around Thanksgiving now. I'm sure my parents have given up looking by now. They will sit around their table with extended family and the stuffed turkey and the casseroles and pies, and they will hold hands and pray. Will they pray for me? Do they still hold out hope that I'm alive, or have they given up on me? For their sakes, I hope it's the latter. Accepting the inevitable is always easier than false hope.
The snow doesn't stay all the time out here. I know it must still be cold, because frost collects on my window. I see the bush straining against some pretty stiff wind.
Travis always leaves the tray from one meal until he brings the next. I don't always get a spoon. I always give it back so that nobody suspects. I've started up working on the window again. The second side is almost free. I have started requesting oatmeal and soup whenever I can, but it seems like Master has been home a lot more lately because mostly I get the nasty toast and lunch meat sandwiches.
I have wasted far too much time in depression and self-pity. Brooding won't get me out of here. I have to work hard. Already I fear that by the time the glass is free, I will be too far into my pregnancy to fit through the window. It's probably already too late. I wasted precious time. I won't waste any more.
Day 97: The baby moves a lot. It still feels like little butterfly kisses. I feel horrible for even writing this, but I don't feel much of a connection with the baby. I know it isn't the baby's fault, but it makes me feel so unclean to be carrying a child that is part of him. Like even though he no longer touches me, he's always inside of me. It makes me feel sick to think about. Even though I know the baby is innocent of his or her father's crimes.
The Bible talks a lot about forgiveness. One time somebody asked Jesus if they should forgive seven times, and Jesus said not seven, but seventy times seven. Obviously nobody can keep track of that many times forgiving someone else, so it probably means to keep forgiving as long as they keep hurting you. But I don't know how to forgive Travis and Master. How do you forgive someone who does something like this? I want Master to go to hell. I want him to feel the pain that he's dealt to others. I want him to burn in fire forever. God, forgive me for these thoughts, but that is how I feel. I know that we all deserve hell, but surely some people do more than others...
Day 100: The second side of the window is finished. It snowed again last night.
My belly hurts. It's a sharp pain when I stand up or cough. I don't know whether to hope everything is okay, or hope that it isn't. I think it would hurt to lose this baby, but wouldn't it be better for this baby to go straight to heaven instead of coming into this world? If the baby dies now, it will never feel pain or trouble. But that seems so horrible, to
Similar Books
