hope for a baby to die. I'm so used to feeling it there. I think I will miss it if it was gone.
Day 101: The snow must have broken a branch from the bush because I can see through it now. I can see the fence around the property and the top of a mesa in the distance.
The sight makes me fidgety. It's not hope exactly, but being able to see my goal gives me a little more motivation to keep going. Except I didn't get a spoon today so I have nothing to work with. I need to think of something to ask for that I might be able to use. Something that can scrape the plaster stuff without breaking or wearing down too quickly.
Travis was pale and feverish when he brought my lunch today, and he brought me two meals because he said he might not be able to come back down tonight. I never thought about this element of captivity. When your kidnapper is sick, you're sort of a “captive audience” for their germs. Just a little prisoner joke.
Day 102: Travis didn't bring us any breakfast today. Sophie is rather loudly protesting this fact. She's a tough girl, Sophie. She must have been a street kid or something. Master has been to visit her several times and I always have to help her with her bruises afterward, but her attitude never changes. She's a fighter. She never shows pain, only anger.
My stomach is cramping so bad. I don't know if it's hunger, something with the pregnancy, or I'm coming down with what Travis has. I don't feel feverish or nauseous, just the pain.
I feel strange. It's something beyond my normal longing to escape or see the sun...or do anything normal. It's like I'm itching on the inside. My legs itch so bad at night that I can't sleep. I don't know how it's possible to be so tired and not be able to sleep.
Day 110: I definitely caught what Travis had, though it wasn't the cause of my stomach pain. That was vicious. Fever and chills and I thought I would die if anything touched my skin. This is the first day I've even been able to sit up. It's probably a miracle I didn't lose the baby. I could barely eat or drink anything. My throat still hurts and I have a cough now, but at least I can sit up for more than 10 minutes without passing out.
Day 111: Maybe another week or two and the window pane will be free. My belly has grown a lot in the last few days. I hope it doesn't continue at this rate for long. I don't even know if I could fit through the window anymore. But I have to keep trying.
When I was sick, Travis brought me a gallon water jug so I didn't have to get up to get more water as often. I hid it under my cot. So far he doesn't seem to have noticed...I hope that continues. Whenever I get out I'll need something to carry water in. I haven't figured out food yet.
A few days later, day 117, the last of the plaster crumbled into my hands. Heart pounding wildly, my ears straining for the sound of anyone coming down the hall, I dug my fingernails around the edges of the glass and pulled it toward me. With a scraping sound, it gave. A blast of frigid air entered the cell, swirling around me, heavy with the scent of winter.
I laughed out loud, giddy from even this little taste of freedom. I moved the chair aside and pushed the desk under the window. Careful not to injure my belly, I laid sideways on the wide windowsill and twisted my body into some very painful positions to see if I could fit through. I did—but barely. Another couple of weeks and it would be impossible. My heart was pounding so hard that I felt lightheaded. I got down and pushed the desk back into place, before climbing back on the chair and carefully replacing the glass. I was shivering with cold and with anticipation. The first step of my escape plan was finished. Even though I hadn't really thought beyond this moment, I felt exhilarated. I had felt air—real, fresh outside
Day 101: The snow must have broken a branch from the bush because I can see through it now. I can see the fence around the property and the top of a mesa in the distance.
The sight makes me fidgety. It's not hope exactly, but being able to see my goal gives me a little more motivation to keep going. Except I didn't get a spoon today so I have nothing to work with. I need to think of something to ask for that I might be able to use. Something that can scrape the plaster stuff without breaking or wearing down too quickly.
Travis was pale and feverish when he brought my lunch today, and he brought me two meals because he said he might not be able to come back down tonight. I never thought about this element of captivity. When your kidnapper is sick, you're sort of a “captive audience” for their germs. Just a little prisoner joke.
Day 102: Travis didn't bring us any breakfast today. Sophie is rather loudly protesting this fact. She's a tough girl, Sophie. She must have been a street kid or something. Master has been to visit her several times and I always have to help her with her bruises afterward, but her attitude never changes. She's a fighter. She never shows pain, only anger.
My stomach is cramping so bad. I don't know if it's hunger, something with the pregnancy, or I'm coming down with what Travis has. I don't feel feverish or nauseous, just the pain.
I feel strange. It's something beyond my normal longing to escape or see the sun...or do anything normal. It's like I'm itching on the inside. My legs itch so bad at night that I can't sleep. I don't know how it's possible to be so tired and not be able to sleep.
Day 110: I definitely caught what Travis had, though it wasn't the cause of my stomach pain. That was vicious. Fever and chills and I thought I would die if anything touched my skin. This is the first day I've even been able to sit up. It's probably a miracle I didn't lose the baby. I could barely eat or drink anything. My throat still hurts and I have a cough now, but at least I can sit up for more than 10 minutes without passing out.
Day 111: Maybe another week or two and the window pane will be free. My belly has grown a lot in the last few days. I hope it doesn't continue at this rate for long. I don't even know if I could fit through the window anymore. But I have to keep trying.
When I was sick, Travis brought me a gallon water jug so I didn't have to get up to get more water as often. I hid it under my cot. So far he doesn't seem to have noticed...I hope that continues. Whenever I get out I'll need something to carry water in. I haven't figured out food yet.
A few days later, day 117, the last of the plaster crumbled into my hands. Heart pounding wildly, my ears straining for the sound of anyone coming down the hall, I dug my fingernails around the edges of the glass and pulled it toward me. With a scraping sound, it gave. A blast of frigid air entered the cell, swirling around me, heavy with the scent of winter.
I laughed out loud, giddy from even this little taste of freedom. I moved the chair aside and pushed the desk under the window. Careful not to injure my belly, I laid sideways on the wide windowsill and twisted my body into some very painful positions to see if I could fit through. I did—but barely. Another couple of weeks and it would be impossible. My heart was pounding so hard that I felt lightheaded. I got down and pushed the desk back into place, before climbing back on the chair and carefully replacing the glass. I was shivering with cold and with anticipation. The first step of my escape plan was finished. Even though I hadn't really thought beyond this moment, I felt exhilarated. I had felt air—real, fresh outside
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