Anna

2 - Disastrous Hope

Content warnings: physical violence.

The phone in her hands felt unusually heavy. A black smudged screen reflected an unfamiliar face. She had not held a phone in a long time.

The glass brick turned over and over in her hands. It felt strange, yet familiar as she suppressed memories of a previous childhood she tried hard not to dwell on. Upon the final turn, her finger grazed a button along the side. The screen lit up, illuminating her face with a harsh blue light. She nearly dropped it and squinted at the screen in awe.

"What is it," Lizzie asked. When she saw the phone in the older girl's hands, her face glowed.

She knew the look on Lizzie's face all too well. It was a dangerous one filled with hope. Experience had taught her that the more hope they had, the more disastrous it was.

"We can't," she said, carefully replacing the ticking time bomb where she found it. The light dimmed in Lizzie's tired, sunken eyes.

"We have to!"

"Shh," the older girl begged, checking the ceiling for signs of movement.

"Fine. I'll do it." Lizzie reached for the phone, only for it to be snatched back.

Lizzie did not know yet that escape was impossible. She'd tried countless times on her own, only to be taught that she would regret it. They were not easy lessons to learn. Her body carried too many scars from failed escape attempts. He knew; He always knew. And he always caught her before she made it outside.

She had accepted her reality a long time ago. There was a whole world on the other side of the basement's walls that she would never see again. Her only way out was death because there was no scenario in which He would let her go. He'd done too many unspeakable acts, and they both knew it. Either he would kill her sooner, or he would kill her later.

Before he took Lizzie, she used to hope it would be sooner. But now she had a self-imposed duty and a promise to protect the young girl from the same torture she endured day in and day out. She could not protect Lizzie from the basement, but she could protect her from Him.

But based on Lizzie's wasting frame, sunken eyes, and the handcuff marks around her wrists that resembled her own, it was not enough. She had to do something. She wanted Lizzie to have her old life back, and now she held the one tool that could give it to her. The world had forgotten her, but maybe it had not yet forgotten Lizzie.

The phone's screen lit up again under the touch of her shaky finger. A red symbol at the bottom of the screen labeled "emergency call" stared back at her.

"You need to hide again," she said without looking up from the phone. If she was going to do this, Lizzie needed to stay out of sight and mind for as long as possible.

"But I—"

"Go." She knew her words came out a little too harsh, but it was for the better. Lacking any more arguments, Lizzie crawled back under the bed until she disappeared into its shadows.

Through trembling breaths and wide eyes, her finger hovered over the symbol, and she pressed it. She could only hope that after all was said and done, she would be spared, one way or another.

Her heart pounded in her chest as the words dialing and then connecting flashed on the screen. The phone barely trilled once before a woman's tinny voice came through the speaker.

"911, what's your emergency?"

The realization hit her that she didn't know what to say or ask for. She stared at the phone as if she'd forgotten how to speak.