The Journal, Page 2

response from him, even if it only meant a screaming argument about who was right. I needed to feel some sort of power, but his silence kept him in charge.

  Frustration had now joined the other emotions consuming me and I fought back with a vengeance. If this was the only response I would receive from him, then I needed to feel as if I had some sort of control of the situation and could at least fight back physically. So I pounded, kicked, and scratched like there was no tomorrow. And for me, it was quite possible there wasn’t one.

  When he grew tired of my futile attempts to overpower him, he ripped me by my hair and catapulted me into the wall. While blood dripped down my lips and chin from my injured nose and my ribs felt as though they’d been crushed, I still refused to relent.

  When I charged him again, he seized me in a full body tackle, sending us both hurtling to the floor. Since I was the one on the bottom, my head connected with the solid ground, ceasing my struggles.

  When I awoke sometime later, I was alone and the hole was not only gone but reinforced with several additional planks and bolts. Dammit!

  But before the tears could fully unleash, I remembered my mom’s journal. She was the reason I had tried to remove that board in the first place and had almost succeeded in my escape. What happened to her next?

  Crawling over to the journal’s hiding place, I didn’t find within its pages another escape plan but instead a terrifying ordeal.

  Day 3

  Please, Josh find me. I don’t know what they’re planning for me; they’re so careful not to talk within earshot. I don’t know how to get away and don’t know how much time I have left. I’m sure their intentions are to kill me. I just don’t know why they prolong this torture. This time they set rats free in my enclosed prison to terrorize me. If only I had had a chance to prepare some sort of weapon against their razor like teeth – a sharpened piece of wood at least.

  Hugging the book to my chest, I allowed some sobs to overtake my body. I could regain my composure after I allowed the barricaded tears to slip free first.

  My mom had suffered so much.

  Thinking of her anguish brought my attention to my dad. I remembered how frantic he had been when Emmy disappeared. Searching for her had consumed his life. But I didn’t, for even one minute, resent that because I wanted her back too. He had to be going insane again, seeing as history was about to repeat itself.

  Returning my attention to my mom’s journal, a few leftover tears splashed onto her words.

  What was the purpose of finding this and reading about my mom’s torment? Then through bleary eyes I grasped the meaning. This was a warning I needed to heed. Again.

  In the darkness of my confinement and without wasting another minute, – of which I was sure I had very few of left – I began rummaging for a piece of wood I could somehow sharpen to use as a weapon. If I was right in my assumption, I needed to get to work.

  Feverishly searching the ground, I began to grow hysterical as I came up with nothing.

  Just as I was about to surrender to my fate, I spied a small piece of wood lying where the tall man had patched up the hole I had made earlier. Probably wouldn’t do any serious damage to either of the men but I had to deal with the immediate threat coming first.

  Quickly grasping the chunk of wood between my trembling fingers, I began to scrape it along the wall in hopes of producing a sharpened weapon to fend off the terrifying creatures that would be infiltrating my surroundings at any time.

  After I had my makeshift weapon sharpened to my satisfaction, I sat in the corner and waited. That alone was torment. Knowing what was coming but wondering if it would end up being something far worse – although I wasn’t sure I could think of anything worse than rats – was enough to cause me to surrender to my fears. But I couldn’t lose focus. If I were to ever find a way out, I had to keep my wits about me. Besides, I had my mom’s journal for guidance.

  It seemed like many hours had passed before a scraping sound drew my attention to where I had found the piece of wood I now held firmly in my right hand. The scraping sound gave way to a crack which was quickly replaced by squeaking. I had to hold it together.

  In scampered four rats. The only thing entirely visible was their beady eyes. The hole was immediately sealed up but I didn’t give that much thought. It was time to defend myself.

  At first, the rodents didn’t know I was there, but soon after one found me and I staked it, the others followed suit. Even though I had a weapon, it was still terrifying. I screamed as they came at me and even after I jammed the stake through their bodies and stilled their attack.

  I continued to scream for a long time afterwards. First of all because I was still reeling from the shock but it was also so the men wouldn’t suspect that the foul creatures hadn’t even been able to get one little nip at me. By the time I had gained control over my shrieking, my throat was a raw tube in desperate need of water.

  Shaking off the last remnants of horror, I began pacing. I just couldn’t bring myself to sit down quite yet. Visions of creepy crawly rodents still invaded my thoughts. I needed to walk off this nervous energy so I could focus on what to do next.

  Suddenly, a haunting notion invaded my mind. Would there be something to plan for next or would I be reading my mom’s final journal entry?

  I decided I wasn’t quite ready to take a peek just yet. First, I had to convince myself there was still hope, even if I was at the end. I could do this.

  My mom wanted me to escape. My dad needed me to escape. He was all alone right now. I had to get back to him. Resolved that I would not let this be my fate, I decided it was time to read another entry, even if it was the last.

  Thankfully, the deposit of dead rats was in the opposite corner from where I had stashed my mom’s journal.

  With deliberate steps, I inched my way over and sat down. Mercifully, I was able to calm myself down enough to convince myself that there would be no more rats coming through and I could sit down and begin to plan my escape. I was careful not to think the word attempt in there at all. There could be no more attempts; the next one had to be a success.

  Taking a deep breath, I retrieved the small book from its hiding place and turned to the next entry.

  Day 4

  They must have dropped off food sometime between midnight and the sunrise because I never heard them come in. I try not to doze off but I am so weary it’s difficult not to at times. Even though I know my body could have used the fuel, I didn’t trust it enough, so I refused to touch the food. My only regret is that I wasn’t prepared when they came in to set up some sort of ambush. I can feel my time winding to a close.

  Swallowing back a sob, a little squeak still managed to escape. My mom had been so close to gaining freedom. Would her fate be my fate as well? I refused to accept that. She would never let me accept that either.

  Staring down at the small book in my hands, I pondered. Was this just my mom’s journal – I wasn’t sure how she would have had one with her at the time of her abduction – or was it her way of protecting me from beyond? Or was it both?

  Well, I would take it for what it was. I once again began searching for something to use as a weapon. My makeshift stake would never provide the results I needed to secure my escape.

  Gliding my hands up and down the walls around the perimeter of my prison, – just as I had done the first day here, only now with more of a purpose – I searched for another loose piece of wood. There had to be something here I could use. I knew there wasn’t a chance it would create a hole again but I just needed a piece big enough to serve as a weapon.

  Hours later, after making it almost the entire way around, my hands grasped a chunk of wood that seemed to slide slightly. I spent the next several hours working it free.

  What seemed like years later, I finally managed to rip a piece of wood – about half the span of my height – free from the wall.

  I smiled a
s I clutched my new weapon.

  Then I settled myself onto a spot near the door, but not too close that it would give away my intentions. Not knowing what time of day it was, all I could do was sit and wait. There was no need to worry about drifting off to sleep; my body was on high alert knowing I couldn’t mess up this chance.

  While waiting for my captors to return, I decided to read the next entry in my mom’s journal.

  Day 5

  After today’s torture, I could almost wish I were dead. The only thing keeping me hanging on is the thoughts of my wonderful husband and beautiful daughter out there searching for me. I won’t give up because I know they won’t.

  Tears streaming down my cheeks, I had to look away for a moment. I missed my mom so much and somehow felt like I was losing her all over again. But I needed to focus.

  Wanting so badly to continue reading to find out what had happened to my mom; instead I sensibly tucked the journal away inside my jeans to read later. I knew this was likely my final chance for escape and needed to take full advantage. Besides, my mom would never forgive me if I didn’t.

  So instead, I continued with my plan. I pretended to be asleep and waited for show time.

  After an unknown amount of time had passed, and just as the journal entry confirmed once more, the two men entered slowly and quietly – thinking I was sound asleep – bringing me what they considered food. I barely