How do I escape? How do I escape? How do I escape? Think, Ruth, think. We need to get out of here, but first, how do we get out of the binds that chain me to this chair?
As it turns out, the scraping behind the bad man was a chair. A wooden chair that has given me numerous splitters for the past couple of days that I have been sitting on it.
I don't know why he moved me from sitting on the floor to a chair. My arms are thankful because they are sitting in front of me and not stretched too far behind my back, but my body feels weak again and my wrists are rubbed raw and bleeding on the rope.
He doesn't visit me anymore, which I am grateful for. But at the same time, it was nice to have company. He wasn't great company, but it was someone to talk to and feel human contact. I don't know why I feel such a loss at being alone. I am used to being alone or the last time I remember, I am used to it. Why does it feel so foreign now?
Sometimes I feel like I am losing my mind. It is always dark. I can never tell when one day changes into another and how many days have gone by. Granted, I didn't know that prior, but I knew that the bad man came in once a day so I had a small inkling of when a new day approached. Now though? Now I feel like I know nothing. I am utterly alone.
Sometimes I sing songs in my head. I don't remember which songs they are, but I imagine myself sitting in the car with the windows rolled down and heat coming out of the car's vents. It reminds me of better times and gets me through some of the days. However, I always feel like I am missing something. Like I should know or remember something, but I can't. I wish I could figure out what it is. It would make everything so much easier.
I also try to listen to the guards outside my door, but they must never move or maybe there is no one there. I never hear anyone.
My mind shifts back to when the chair was brought into the room. That was the worst night of my life. He stayed with me that night and tortured me in every way possible. I stayed up that night and all through the next day barely breathing and fearing for my life. He did everything I could ever possibly imagine to me that night. I feel ruined. Tarnished. Broken. Really, I don't think I knew what pain was up until that night.
It still pains me to think about what he did to me. I can still feel him ripping me open, the feeling of the knife as it dug and twisted itself into my skin, every kick and punch, every whip to my back. I sit as straight as possible, not leaning against the chair. I wanted it all to end, but I had this feeling that I needed to keep fighting. I know not all hope is lost. I know that there is something out there that will rescue me. I just don't know who or what yet. I mean, one of my professors or my internship must have noticed my absence and notified the police. Right?
Looking around the room, I see nothing. Everything is dark. I don't remember what light, sunlight, or artificial, looks like or feels like anymore. How can I forget that? How long have I been here considering I have forgotten the feeling? Why won't they just let me go?
I keep a diary too. It isn't written or anything since I don't have pen and paper, and I can't use my hands, but I mentally say it or use my voice which is always scratchy. When was the last time I drank anything? Come to think of it, when was the last time my body did a normal bodily function? It is so depleted that there is no waste?
My stomach doesn't reply to my question. In fact, I can't recall the last time my stomach did growl. Is it so used to be empty that it no longer expects food and my body is living off of itself? How long can I last like this? When will the bad man decide that I need to eat and drink something or I will starve or dehydrate to death?
Wait, that's not possible. I must have drunk water since I have been here. Generally, the body cannot go for more than three days without water and since I know that I have been here for more than three days I must have drunk something. When did I drink water? Did the bad man give it to me? Why don't I remember drinking it?
What if I already lost my mind? How could this have happened? I need to remember? In a frenzy, I mentally do another journal. This needs to help me remember. I have to be okay.
Dear no one,
What if I have already lost my mind? I don't know how long I have been here but isn't it too soon to lose something I have always had?
I need to remember something. Anything. My name is Ruth. I am a college student. I live in an apartment by myself and I don't know how to cook so I live off of granola bars and ramen.
Even as I say these simple facts about myself, something doesn't feel right. I know that something is missing, but whatever it is evades my grasp.
I know that I must be graduating soon. I'm in my last semester anyways. I am a writing major with aspirations to be an editor at my current internship. I would also like to write a book one day and leave a legacy, even if it is small, behind.
I worry that I may not be able to do the same things as I once did. What if I never get out of here? What if people have not noticed that I am missing? What if someone has, but they don't know what to do about it?
Okay, back to the facts. I have been here for maybe a week now, possibly more and I have been drinking water, but I do not remember when. There is one man and possibly one guard who is in this building at all times. The man usually visits me at the same time every day, I think. This could mean that it is the start or end of his shift. Maybe he stays in here until the new guard is in place. If that's right, then either I am unattended for a few minutes or he is no longer guarding me.
What if there is no guard and he only visits me to make sure I am still secure and unable to escape?
The thought sticks inside my head. What if I'm right? I never hear anyone outside this prison and he is the only one that ever comes in here. It could just be that he likes to "play" with me, but what if there is more than one purpose?
A renewed sense of wavering hope fills me. I know that the only way I will be able to see if my assumption is correct is to be free of this chair. I need to walk around this room, listen to any footsteps either outside my door or upstairs.
Ignoring the pain in my wrists and the blood starting to flow and stain the ropes, I rub the underside of the rope against the chair armrest, pulling upwards to add more pressure and strain to the rope. The thickness worries me. What if it doesn't fray enough so I can break it? Thinking about it, all I really need to do is rub it enough so that I can slip my arm out.
I vigorously work against the rope long enough that the ropes are soaked in my blood and my wrists are burning a flame I didn't know could be so hot.
I know that I must be so close to being free, but I can't move my arms anymore. My cheeks are wet with tears and the pain is unbearable.
Okay, back to thinking. Where am I? In a basement with possibly one to three other people. Why am I here? A man I knew needed to be punished. Why did they take me to hurt the man? I'm possibly his girlfriend if my memory is right and we were holding hands. Why does he need to be punished? The answer is still unknown.
While I still worry about my sanity and how much longer I will make it down here before I lose myself, I don't feel hopeless. I just may be able to survive this dark part in my life and return to my old life and try to pick up the pieces along the way.