Free Chained by Tessa Escalera Page B

don't expect me to keep her?  I don't think babysitting qualifies me for being a mother.  I certainly don't want this little girl to die.  But I'm also not quite sure why they are keeping her around.  Master doesn't seem the type to have compassion for something that isn't of any use to him.
     
    Day 32:  I woke up freaking out this morning when Annabelle's little girl crawled into my cot.  I was sure it was Master, about to beat or rape me again. She's so quiet that I almost forgot she was here.
     
    I have forgotten what it means to feel the touch of another person that isn't intent on hurting me.  She is so warm with life.  She curled up in the space in front of my belly and she buried her little head in my shoulder.  Her hair is so long for a child so young but it's hopelessly tangled, as if it's never been brushed. She is so thin and fragile.  Her limbs feel like the bones of a bird.  I wonder if she's ever seen the sunlight or anything beyond this prison.
     
    Apparently I was meant to be the caretaker of Annabelle's child, at least for now.  When Travis brought my breakfast (bagel and banana, so no Master today), there was another tray with oatmeal and a sippy cup of milk.  Even after a month, it still felt strange seeing such ordinary things sitting on that plain desk, surrounded by concrete and darkness.
     
    “What's her name?”  I asked as Travis set the food down. 
     
    The little girl raised her arms and Travis picked her up, the child snuggling into his chest.  It was profoundly strange, to the point of being disturbing, to see the girl so obviously trusting of one of our captors.  Travis held her silently for a moment before handing her back to me.  “I'm not sure she has one.  Annabelle's grip on sanity has been tenuous ever since she came here.  I'm not sure she even recognized that the child was present most of the time.”
     
    A random wave of weakness washed over me and I sat down on my cot, still cradling the little girl in my arms.  “Do you blame her?”
     
    For a moment I thought he wouldn't reply.  Finally he shook his head.  “No.”
     
    What is your role in all of this?  Are you a prisoner too?   “What is going to happen to Annabelle?”
     
    Travis's demeanor changed and he turned to leave.  “You don't want to know.”
     
    As the door clicked closed behind him, I thought that I wanted nothing more at the moment but to know what was going to happen...to Annabelle, to Jenny, to me. 
     
    I set the little girl on the chair and pulled her tray in front of her.  She just looked at me, eyes wide and lips trembling. 
     
    “Hey, don't cry!  What's the matter?”
     
    “Mama?”
     
    All of a sudden my own eyes began to fill with tears.  I tried to strangle the sobs erupting from my chest but one managed to escape as I gathered the toddler into my arms and held her to my chest, cradling her fragile body against mine.  “I don't know, baby girl.  I don't know where your mama is.”
     
    Day 35:  
     
    I need to think of a name for this little girl if I really am to keep her...
     
    Travis brought a little box of toys that he says were kept in Annabelle's room.  They all look like they've been through several generations of use.  Faded blocks, a teddy bear with all of his fur missing in places, a threadbare baseball.
     
    He loves this little girl.  That much is obvious.  He is still a mystery I can't figure out.  I don't trust him.  I don't like him.  I want to hate him, but it's hard.  He never does anything worth hating.  Besides not letting me out, that is.  Someday I will find out his role in all of this.
     
    Jenny's baby is a month old now.  It seems like years ago that I held her hand through that night.  I haven't seen her, but I hear them.  Hannah and her endless crying.  At least she's still alive.  I just don't know for how long.
     
    God, please keep us all alive.  Just for a little while longer, until someone finds us or I can