Oath Breaker

March 2, 2022.

On day one, I was still optimistic that this would either end quickly or I'd find this small crack to escape out of. On day twenty five, I thought I was an absolute goner and was being crushed under the pressure of anticipation. Now, I don't really know where I stand. I go back and forth between being numb and sobbing to my best friend Abigail. I met her here and she comforted me as I adjusted to what had already become her daily routine. She says The Oath keeps a close eye but I haven't seen him since I arrived. I can't tell how long she and the others have been here but a good portion of them have a glossed over look. They're frail and their hands seem frozen into a claw like position, it seems to take so much effort to even use their fingers.

Willa, an elderly woman with frizzy strawberry blonde hair and long solid white roots, stares at the same wall all day and will only eat if someone forces her. When she speaks, it's as if her mouth barely opens and it comes out more like static than speech. Everyone says she was the first to be taken here but no one really knows when exactly that was. At night, she mumbles in her sleep and she sounds so desperate. The first night I heard her, I ran to her and tried to provide some amount of emotional support but she pushed me away and starting screeching at me like a feral cat. Someone told me she used to be The Oath's favorite so she was allowed more gifts, like hair dye and lipstick.

I haven't gotten any gifts since I got here outside the occasional bit of food that is deposited automatically but everyone here gets some food. It's normally cheap things like light bread and canned food like tuna or soup. The food is scarce among us all so weight drops very quickly. If you earn your keep, you are given additional food or tools to grow your own food. Vaughn was a science teacher and when he started getting gifts, he asked for flower pots, soil, and seeds. He barters his hard work for other items. He has flowers, herbs, fruits, and vegetables. I got strawberries and blueberries last week for giving him the earrings I had on and he gave them to his girlfriend here as an anniversary present. We all find our way here to survive and have luxuries.

We are all given empty composition journals. They're placed on our beds for when we arrive. This is the first time I've used mine. When your journal is completely full, you're given a meeting with The Oath where you discuss it's contents and see if you deserve those beautiful gifts. I've truthfully been really frightened thinking about being near him again and have avoided writing like this like it's the plague but I have already lost weight and I'm losing my bearings. I am going to make filling this thing up my full time job. I am going to have my first meeting. I will rant on and on about poor Willa and romantic Vaughn and about how Abigail prays over her slop every day.

I'll even write about who I am and who I was before this happened. I'll draw pictures of my dog Shyla and write poetry about true love and heartbreak. I'll tell you about my parents and my friends back home. I'll tell you how I met The Oath and pretend there is someone who really cares about me reading this. Because right now, everything is bleak and my energy is depleting. I've grown tired of complaining to Abigail who now sees all of this as normal and tells me to thank God that I am still alive instead of keeping this negative attitude that will not benefit me. I plan to survive out of pure spite and anger and I don't want to bottle up my feelings to the point I can't speak at all. I will not bite my tongue.

I was kidnapped January 22, 2022. I had ran away from home for the first time. My parents and I had been bickering nonstop about what I was doing with my life and what I wasn't. I found myself in a shelter where I met a lot of really kind people and they kept me warm and with food in my stomach. There was a woman who kept stopping by to check on me, saying she works for an organization for troubled teens who run away but don't want to return home. I explained that I had been experiencing a lot of mental abuse that started getting physical. My father had slapped me. She kept telling me about how many times she had heard similar stories and where all these strong people are now --after letting her in their lives. They're teachers, writers, preachers, and one was even pursuing her musical career.

She said that she wants me to take my time and really be comfortable with my decision and that she would check in on me here and there to see when I am ready to enter a program and eventually be placed in a foster family. She never doubted my story or asked for evidence of abuse which made me feel validated and secure. Never threatened to take me back home where I had to face my parents again. She simply told me to let her know and she would guide me on the right path. For several weeks it was like this. We talked about my dreams and simple short term goals. We talked about finding me a small job to get a form of income, talked about this cafe that had poetry nights every Thursday. I had put so much trust into this smiling woman wearing a gold cross necklace and bangle bracelets stacked onto one another. Eventually, I agreed to go with her. I took my backpack and slipped it over one shoulder and I got this god awful feeling once I got into her silver car.

She took me to this beautiful house, decorated with tons of modern artwork and it had signed vinyl records in thick black frames. I sat with her in a large kitchen, drinking from a red coffee mug and listening to her go on the same rant I had heard before. Then a man walked in with salt and pepper colored hair and glasses that needed to be pushed up his nose. He was tall, felt like a skyscraper looming over me and despite his unkempt hair he was well dressed and spoke like a talk show host. I admit thinking he was a hipster past his prime that was probably living off a small loan of a million dollars from his well off father. I immediately got that impression though it isn't fair to judge.

He introduced himself as The Oath and said the woman next to him was his mother The Promise but that I will call her Miss. I was beyond confused, I thought he was off his rocker or pulling my leg and that at any moment "Joanne" would laugh and tell me not to pay any attention to him. But she didn't and in this moment of silence I felt my fight or flight response kick in and I rose up and started to make a break for the door. He grabbed me from behind and placed a damp cloth over my nose and mouth. I woke up inside what seemed to be a huge indoor greenhouse that had half walls inside and bunk beds. It was a significant amount of space and when you looked out of the glass you saw mostly concrete and an observation balcony to look at us from above. There were small clear tarps hanging over each bunk and I didn't realize their purpose until later but there's water sprinklers built into the top of the greenhouse and every day at 9 AM they go off to water plants and to give us a shower. We also collect the water to drink. Those tarps keep our beds from getting completely soaked. 

My neighbor who shared beds with me was no other than Abigail who seemed happy to see me. The first thing I noticed was her dry cracked lips and I was in such shock after coming to my senses that I couldn't really focus on what she was saying to me. Looking back now, it probably was something to do with her faith. I spent a lot of time pounding my fists into the glass and screaming to let me out, sobbing all the while. It took many of the Keepers to talk to me before I stopped. That's what we're called, each one of us is a Keeper. I don't think the full thing became realized in my head until that night but I had no idea of what was to come.