Butterfly Wings

Newfound Hatred

Day 24

Today marks twenty-four days after my kidnapping. I wish I could say time has flown by, but it has felt more like the clock is playing games with me, dragging time slower and slower. Twelve days ago, I almost died at Hanks hands. I recall most of the day before I woke to Mitchell standing over me shouting at me to breathe, and just like magic air filled my lungs again and I remember Mitchell thanking me and pulling me into him, in a fatherly hug I had not expected from him. After that Hank has not been allowed down here. In fact, nobody has been down here besides Courtney and Mitchell. Both taking turns feeding me and cleaning me. I had to literally beg Mitchell to let me wash myself. Surprisingly did not take much convincing, he even let me cover myself up as we walked up and into the house to a bathroom, of course he stood in the room watching me closely, waiting. But it was an actual shower all the same. The last couple days have not been very fun for me though, I can imagine that Mitchell has the same thought as myself on the matter. Throwing up when brought food or constantly being nauseous, just a small flag but after the last hour of me gagging on the smell of cooking food from above, he came back to me with a test in hand. I cringe just looking at the stick. He helps me stand from the table I have reclaimed to move to the makeshift bucket they have made for me to use so I can walk, I wait as he hands me the stick then turns his back not bothering to move even an inch away. After twenty-four days I do not feel the embarrassment or shame of nudity anymore, if they kill me, I will die buck naked, so I do not flinch at the idea anymore. I shamelessly and happily squat to finally relieve my bladder of the burning pain, I pee of the stick and wipe clean standing and moving back to the table as I know where my place is. I like my table, I have taken my claim, it is better than hanging from the ropes on the ceiling. I watch as Mitchell sits on the stool not bothering to tie me down as we both stare at the stick in his hand. After what feels like a lifetime, we see the test is done and clear as day there is a faint pink positive test result showing. I find myself staring hard at the test waiting for the trick to be revealed. Mitchell sighs his hand rubbing down his face as he stands up, moving to the tray; he lays the test down, as he grabs the food on the plate bringing it over to me. I watch him sit back down as I inhaled every bite of food on the plate leaving nothing behind. I feel like everything is different now. Will this baby be what keeps me alive, will me being pregnant make more issues and will they kill me sooner now? I refuse to think about the actual situation I am in. I do not even know who the father is now. Could be Mitchell, could be Hank and could be Marcus. I am so scared that whatever happens I could still be here when this baby is ready to join the world, I dream of being a mother one day. But never wanted it to be like this.

"You still hungry? I can get you more food, you should eat what you can if you are still hungry." Mitchell asks in such a kind manner that it has me pausing from the cup of water he had just handed me.

Shaking my head no, I tip the cup back up slurping it down, not caring about the fact it is spilling out from my bottom lip down my chin. I can feel the water landing in my lap, I question how I am so calm, after the last incident I have tried to play cool, play the victim that has given in, let them believe that I am no longer willing to fight. They must truly believe my act because they have gotten more trusting with me. I was able to sit at the picnic table outside for over an hour last week, the only warm day of the week, I got to let the sun warm my skin and feel the calm breeze.

"I will start doing checks on you more, with your condition, we need to be careful, I will bring down your first prenatal vitamins tomorrow, and I think I can get you anti nauseous medicine that is safe to take while pregnant, just have to make a trip to work." He mutters the last part to himself as he lists off everything turning away from me.

He finished working on the head piece from Ally three days after the Hank mess, Courtney wears her hair as if it is her own. I got sick a couple times when I first say Courtney. Then I just stopped, it was like my body stopped reacting to the horrible idea. I suddenly find myself flashing back to Mitchell finally trying to explain part of the truth to me.