Butterfly Wings

Rockabye Baby

Day 250

It has been weeks since I was recaptured, every day Mitchell comes down and tries to get me to speak, but I refuse. I have been mute since the day Hank captured me, it must bother Mitchell a lot since he gets frustrated and does his work quickly before leaving me alone again. What he does not know is I talk a lot to the baby when they leave in a whisper loud enough for the baby to respond to. He says I am about thirty-five maybe thirty-six weeks along now and I do not find it comforting at all. I feel the baby move watching my stomach jolt around as the baby inside refuses to settle for long, he also said that the baby is a boy. I have come up with name for him since Mitchell told me, of course if I do not get out of here, I will never get the chance to be his mother at all. I lie here for some time contemplating if I will ever get another chance at escape but I doubt it at this point. Hank has also been down a couple times, yet I assume he does not care that I have not spoken, he speaks cheerfully to the baby, telling him stories and making promises to him. All the while kissing my stomach and rubbing it with his hands, even used his head at one point, as he laid his cheek to my stomach feeling the baby kick against his face. He would laugh talking about his strong kick then he would resume whatever story he was telling the baby. After several hours of being alone chatting to the baby I finally decide one his name, or at least what I will call him. His name will be Whitley. I loved that name; my mom almost used it for Adam but of course changed her mind after talking to my dad. I have given it to the idea that I will die at their hand's which sucks, but I do not bother to cry or let myself feel the anger, as I know it will not save me at this point.

They morning comes with the heat of August, of course I would not know that it is August had Mitchell not told me about the kids starting school again, they apparently are all homeschooled. Did not know that till now but I find it making sense more now as to why they were always home. I lay still as usual as Mitchell comes down in the morning with breakfast and the ultrasound machine.

"There he is. How is our boy doing today?" He asks yet I stay silent as he waits expecting me to answer him back.

"I am going to starting leaving the monitors on you, you are getting close to the due date and I do not want you to go into labor and now say anything." He states clearly frustrated.

We both turn to look towards the door as Courtney walks in.

"How are they doing?" She asks out loud as she comes to stand on the other side of the table.

"Well, the baby is fine and is facing down, looks like we are gonna be getting close to the finish line here, as for her; she is still not speaking. Has not said a single word since she woke up." Mitchell answers, his eyes moving to meet mine as he gives me a concerned look before they turn back to Courtney's gaze.

Courtney reaches forward her hands finding my stomach as she feels the baby move under her fingers, she smiles softly. Patting my stomach as she moves around the table wrapping her arms around Mitchell's neck giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Hank is already brainstorming his crazy ideas on how to deal with her after she delivers." She states aloud.

Mitchell tenses as he turns to her before turning back to me to finish cleaning me up.

"Oh yeah and what has he come up with so far? Anything I need to worry about?" He asks her.

"He is not sharing with anyone, keeps saying that he will take care of her his own way. No one will change his mind. I still cannot believe you gave him permission to deal with her." She answers back with her voice filled with surprised uncertainty.

"I gave him permission as he insisted that with all the trouble, she has caused she does not need to be used as a butterfly anymore but as he stated to me; needs to be erased as a problem to be solved. He thinks it will take care of the issues she has brought to all of us." Mitchell answers back turning to look at me, yet my gaze unmoving, unchanging, staring back at him blankly.