Free Chained by Tessa Escalera Page A

strangest breakfast yet—cinnamon toast with butter, and a pickle.  It should have been disgusting.  But for the first time in days, I was able to eat and keep it down.  Maybe I'm getting a little better.  Or maybe it's just another sign of the reality I am trying to ignore. 
     
    Day 22:   Today I got a bagel.  With cream cheese. An apple.  Oh, heaven.  I never knew food could create such a feeling of euphoria.  I feel like I've pulled my head above water and I can breathe.  It's stupid, because I'm still here in the dark.  But the pain in my stomach is a little less, and I can breathe again.
     
    Jenny doesn't come help me with my wounds anymore.  I guess they're satisfied I'm not going to get an infection and die.  Travis gave me a blanket today.  It was the first time he's spoken to me since the beating, except to give orders.  He told me to hide the blanket during the day. 
     
    Jenny's baby has been crying a lot.  Last night I'm not sure she ever stopped.  Maybe she's sick.  Please God don't let Jenny's baby die.  I don't think she could handle it.  She tries, I know she wants to live, but she looks so weary.  I don't know how much more she can take.
     
    Day 23:  God, please make Hannah stop crying.  Now I hear Jenny crying too.  I heard Annabelle for the first time in days last night, screaming at the baby to shut up.  I know it's not Jenny's fault.  She's doing the best she can.
     
    I miss the sun so bad.  This one light bulb does nothing to erase the gloom.  If anything it makes it worse.  It highlights the barrenness. 
     
    A ghost stares back at me from the mirror these days.  I think every teenage girl out there wants to lose weight, but I'm pretty sure this isn't the recommended way.  I can see all of my ribs and my hips.  It looks unnatural.  I think it's time to start avoiding the mirror for a while. 
     
    I got toast and bolgona for breakfast today.  I couldn't eat it without puking.  I managed to keep the toast down, but that slimy lunch meat turns my stomach even from across the room.
     
    That night, Master visited Annabelle's cell.  I hid in my bathroom with the tub running, laying in the hot water with my head submerged to cover my ears.  Still the cries echoed in my bones.
     
    Over the next few days I started to see a pattern.  The days I got good food, they were also the days when the Master did not appear.  Every time I got the nasty toast/lunch meat sandwich for my meals, it was a guarantee that our captor would show up later in the day.
     
    I should have been grateful that he continued to leave me alone, but it only served to reinforce the conviction I was trying so desperately to ignore.  According to my journal I had been here for about a month now, and though I knew stress could affect these things, so far I had no reassurance of the absence of what I feared.  My stomach was still extremely sensitive, and what little energy I had while in this nightmare basement seemed to have deserted me.  Almost all I could do was lie on my cot and stare at the walls, listening to little Hannah cry.
     
    Day 31:  A month.  It's been a month now.  I'm sure my parents think I'm dead.  I wonder if they've stopped looking for me.  Please God, don't let them give up on me. 
     
    I don't know what to think about today.  Annabelle was coughing a lot and Master and Travis came and took her away.  Travis brought me her little girl and the pile of blankets that the child apparently sleeps in.  He said Annabelle is sick and she has to leave us. 
     
    I am afraid that means they are going to kill her.
     
    The little girl is scared of me.  I think the only people she's ever seen are her mother, Travis and Master.  She looks about a year old but she's so tiny.  She just stares at me with these huge blue eyes.  I'm not sure if she can speak.  I'm not even sure if she can walk.  She just sits in her little nest of blankets and stares.  Surely Travis and Master