Page 219 of Maddening Fixation

JULIET

Four months had passed since I had been locked inside this suffocating bungalow, a prison masquerading as a home.

Day by day, it had taken pieces of me until the woman I once was felt like a stranger.

The days bled into one another, each as silent and empty as the last, interrupted only by Keegan’s weekly visits to drop off groceries and whatever supplies he deemed necessary.

The isolation had broken something inside me.

I had screamed until my throat bled during the first month.

By the second, I had exhausted every pathetic attempt to pick the locks and climb the walls.

By the third, I had stopped believing anyone was coming for me.

Now, in the fourth month, survival had become a routine.

Wake up. Eat. Tend the little vegetable garden behind the bungalow. Sleep. Repeat.

The small backyard farm had become my sanctuary—the only place where I could pretend the sky belonged to me instead of my captor.

Between the neat rows of tomatoes, peppers, and herbs, I could almost forget the locked doors waiting just a few yards away.

Almost.

And today was another one of those days, another quiet reminder that this might be my life forever—locked away from the world, waiting for a freedom that might never come.

It was a quiet Saturday morning.

I wandered slowly between the vegetable beds, one hand instinctively resting over the gentle swell of my stomach.

My baby.

The tiny life growing inside me was the only thing tethering me to sanity.

Without this child, I wasn’t sure I would have survived the crushing loneliness.

The silence had become so loud that I sometimes caught myself talking to the vegetables, laughing at jokes no one else could hear, simply to remind myself that I still had a voice.

I traced absent circles over my belly as I walked, whispering silent promises to the little soul beneath my palm.

I’ll get us out of here.

I don’t know how... but I will.

The back door creaked open without warning, shattering the quiet morning.

I froze.

Keegan wasn’t due until Monday.

Slowly, I turned.

My breath caught.

Romeo.

For the first time in four months.