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Another question I don’t have the answer for.
I don’t dream of things like this.
I don’t dream at all.
Passion is a foreign thing to me. It doesn’t exist in my world.
“I like to draw. I like to read.” As soon as I say the words, I realize how small and hollow they sound.
“But no dreams of a future?”
He doesn’t seem like he’s judging me, or even has pity which is what I have felt from him since his arrival. He seems interested, and for the first time, I feel he really wants to know the person I am.
Christopher is easy to read. I think he believes he’s not, but his eyes and the way he shifts his jaw reveals all. I’ve seen his rage, his sadness, his fear, and his acceptance. I’ve also seen how he views me. He doesn’t hate me like he hates Papa Rich, but he’s sad for me. His heart breaks for me. I see it all. I feel it all. But today… right now… I feel a different emotion from him.
Curiosity.
He’s trying to figure me out. He’s trying to understand how I think and what I feel. He wants to know. Not just because of escape possibilities, but for something more.
I can feel it. Christopher is trying to see me as I have been trying to see him.
I shake my head and focus on the ground before me. “I wake up each day and live the now. Dreams can also be nightmares, so I avoid both.”
11
Christopher
Five days.
Five fucking days.
How long am I going to be expected to live in a cellar, chained to a wall? This can’t be my life now. This can’t be my normal, and yet, I’m starting to realize that my only chance of escape rests with a psychopath and his terrified daughter.
I’m fucked.
I might as well be dead.
Oh yeah… in the eyes of my family and friends, I am dead.
“Good morning,” Ember says as she walks into the cellar with a breakfast tray full of eggs, bacon and toast. Her cat is close behind her feet, and I can see such happiness in her eyes. A stark contrast to my despair.
I can’t even bring myself to say anything to her or even bother to get off my pile of blankets I sleep on. Why bother?
She places the tray next to me on the floor and walks over to the small window across the room and looks up. “It’s snowing.”
Part of me wants to strangle the smile right off her face.
Great… snow. Snow means the tourists will soon stop arriving and any chance of being heard, being seen, or being rescued will be gone forever. Snow suffocates hope.
“Not a big storm yet,” she continues. “Papa Rich can’t close Hallelujah Junction yet, but soon.” She spins on her bare feet to look at me with the same warm smile that hasn’t left her face since entering the room. “And when he does, I really think I can convince him to give us some more freedom. You’ve been good.”
“Good?” I say, raising an eyebrow as I do. “What choice do I have in the matter?” I jiggle the chain around my ankle that has nearly rubbed the flesh of my ankle raw. “Not like I can be anything but ‘good’.”
She crawls up onto the crate she sits on daily, and her cat cuddles up next to her. It’s what she does every single day. Every single day of the five days I’ve been in this hell. It’s our routine. It’s our life. We sit and talk. She breaks the awkward chit chat by going to make meals. We then sleep. Repeat. Repeat. Fucking repeat!
She points to the untouched breakfast. “Aren’t you hungry? Are you not in the mood for eggs?” Worry marks her tiny face. “I can make something else if you want.”
I sigh deeply and run my fingers through my hair. It takes everything inside of me not to lose my absolute shit on this poor woman. I go from moments of pure rage, frustration, and fury to pity, sympathy, and even genuine concern. I feel for this girl. As I’m starting to hear more and more about her life here, I can clearly see just how much of a victim she is. She doesn’t see it for herself, however, and though I try to get her to see the reality of her situation time and time again, she refuses. Her wall is so high around her feelings toward Richard I realize I may have no chance of ever breaking down the evil foundation that’s been built by a madman and his delusions.
“I need a change of clothes,” I say. I struggle to keep my voice calm and even gentle because I’m discovering just how easy Ember spooks. “I appreciate being able to clean myself in the bathroom, and the towel you gave me, but I can’t keep wearing the same clothing.”
