sit on my desk, and more paper. I have socks, and towels, and another pillow. Travis brings me new things almost every day, even if I don't ask. I look into his eyes and I hope to see...I don't know what I think I will see. But I have to think he cares. Maybe eventually he can be persuaded to help us escape. He is so gentle, and so kind. Except for the fact that he works for a man that surely must be possessed by a demon, for how else could one man be so evil?
I am scaring myself. Sometimes I almost relax, I almost start to feel like this is my home. It frightens me how easily I have gotten used to the horrors here. Is this God's peace, or is this some sort of death of my senses? Am I going crazy? Maybe I need to be crazy to survive in here. If I escape, will I even be able to live in the real world? Or will I be so used to the dark and the cold and the loneliness that I won't ever be able to truly live again?
The next morning, when Travis brought my breakfast, he seemed unsettled. I sat unmoving on my cot as I always did, holding my blankets tight around me. Once he had put the tray down he turned to leave, but hesitated and instead sat in the folding chair and turned it to face me.
He had left the door open. Travis began to speak, but all that I noticed was that my door stood wide open, as if beckoning me to freedom. With great effort I tore my eyes away from it, knowing that if Travis noticed my glance, my chance of escape would disappear. My heart was pounding so hard in my ears that I could barely hear what he was saying.
“Sarah. Butterfly, did you hear me?”
“What?”
“I asked if there is anything you need.”
The stupid part of my brain took over and I blurted out what first flashed into my head. “Yeah. I need to get out of here.”
“You know I can't do that.”
“A phone then. Internet. Let me talk to my parents.”
Travis shook his head. “Why are you asking me for things you know I can't give you?”
“Why are you keeping us here?” I nearly shouted in his face. “Why won't you let us go?”
“You wouldn't understand.”
“Try me! Tell me what possible reason there could be for kidnapping, and raping a bunch of girls and taking their babies away! Tell me why!”
Travis reached out and patted my hand, which I drew away. “It will be okay, Butterfly. Please don't worry.”
I shook my head, and stood. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it would burst. Now might be my only chance. “I'm going to the bathroom,” I told Travis breathlessly, praying that he wouldn't guess my real intent.
And I did, because the door opened in that direction and I would have a straighter shot coming back. Because maybe Travis would have let his guard down a little by the time I came back out. Because I wasn't quite sure if I could make it through the next thirty seconds without throwing up.
In the bathroom I stared at myself in the mirror and breathed deeply. It's now or never. If you don't make it, you might never get another chance. Please God, let this work.
Chapter 8 : Action and Reaction
I swallowed my heart out of my throat and opened the door slowly, quietly. Travis was playing with what appeared to be a Rubik's cube.
Then I was moving. I ran, pushing through the open door, while Travis shouted behind me. I sprinted down the hallway, my bare feet slapping on the concrete, my gown gathered in my hands to keep me from tripping.
The door at the end of the hall had a simple handle. I twisted it, wrestling with the heavy metal. The skin on my back crawled, as if waiting for hands to seize me from behind, even though Travis's footsteps were still dozens of feet behind me.
I squeezed through the door. There was a lock on the handle on this side. I heaved the door shut and locked it, just as
I am scaring myself. Sometimes I almost relax, I almost start to feel like this is my home. It frightens me how easily I have gotten used to the horrors here. Is this God's peace, or is this some sort of death of my senses? Am I going crazy? Maybe I need to be crazy to survive in here. If I escape, will I even be able to live in the real world? Or will I be so used to the dark and the cold and the loneliness that I won't ever be able to truly live again?
The next morning, when Travis brought my breakfast, he seemed unsettled. I sat unmoving on my cot as I always did, holding my blankets tight around me. Once he had put the tray down he turned to leave, but hesitated and instead sat in the folding chair and turned it to face me.
He had left the door open. Travis began to speak, but all that I noticed was that my door stood wide open, as if beckoning me to freedom. With great effort I tore my eyes away from it, knowing that if Travis noticed my glance, my chance of escape would disappear. My heart was pounding so hard in my ears that I could barely hear what he was saying.
“Sarah. Butterfly, did you hear me?”
“What?”
“I asked if there is anything you need.”
The stupid part of my brain took over and I blurted out what first flashed into my head. “Yeah. I need to get out of here.”
“You know I can't do that.”
“A phone then. Internet. Let me talk to my parents.”
Travis shook his head. “Why are you asking me for things you know I can't give you?”
“Why are you keeping us here?” I nearly shouted in his face. “Why won't you let us go?”
“You wouldn't understand.”
“Try me! Tell me what possible reason there could be for kidnapping, and raping a bunch of girls and taking their babies away! Tell me why!”
Travis reached out and patted my hand, which I drew away. “It will be okay, Butterfly. Please don't worry.”
I shook my head, and stood. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it would burst. Now might be my only chance. “I'm going to the bathroom,” I told Travis breathlessly, praying that he wouldn't guess my real intent.
And I did, because the door opened in that direction and I would have a straighter shot coming back. Because maybe Travis would have let his guard down a little by the time I came back out. Because I wasn't quite sure if I could make it through the next thirty seconds without throwing up.
In the bathroom I stared at myself in the mirror and breathed deeply. It's now or never. If you don't make it, you might never get another chance. Please God, let this work.
Chapter 8 : Action and Reaction
I swallowed my heart out of my throat and opened the door slowly, quietly. Travis was playing with what appeared to be a Rubik's cube.
Then I was moving. I ran, pushing through the open door, while Travis shouted behind me. I sprinted down the hallway, my bare feet slapping on the concrete, my gown gathered in my hands to keep me from tripping.
The door at the end of the hall had a simple handle. I twisted it, wrestling with the heavy metal. The skin on my back crawled, as if waiting for hands to seize me from behind, even though Travis's footsteps were still dozens of feet behind me.
I squeezed through the door. There was a lock on the handle on this side. I heaved the door shut and locked it, just as
Similar Books
