Cassie Huwit

I constantly check the door, smell the food, watch for any change any time I wake up.

I don't hear anything anymore.

The wood doesn't creak.

The cloak doesn't tick.

It's all just quiet. Too quiet.

I face the door, waiting and watching for him to come in. Yet sleep overpowers me.

"Cassie!" I hear him just outside my door.

I shake in fear under my bed, clinging to my teddy. The sound of his feet hitting plush carpet gets closer, and the door swings open - inviting light into the darkness.

His feet are the only part of him I see from my view.

"You better not be hiding, girl!" His voice scares me, shakes me to my core.

I hold my palm to my lips, silencing myself from making a sound. His ears twitch like cat at any noise. He stomps around my bed, searching for me, when my mother walks in; leaning on the door frame.

"What are you doing?" He gruffs at her, throwing his hands up making me flinch. "Trying to discipline your child!" They begin to argue.

Screaming and shouting like they always do.

"She's just a brat. Lock her in her room. That'll teach her." My mother tells my father to get out and closes the door, whispering a sweet, twisted, 'goodnight dear.'

I crawl out from under the bed, still clutching my toy. I wipe the tears off my face and climb on top of my bed, under the covers. Only my nose pops out from beneath the sheets.

"It'll be okay teddy." I push my mouth to the bear and whisper.

My parents scream again. My father kicks the door open and grabs me, throwing me to the ground.

"Move!" He kicks me when I don't move fast enough.

He takes me into the spare room where we have an old wooden chest, he opens it and takes my arm. Piercing my skin while he drags me into it.

"If you want to be a little shit, you can stay in here!" He slams the top down above me, a small hole at the bottom of one of the wall is my only source of light. I cling to it.

It's cramped, my short legs can barely fit. I try to push the lid open but it's too heavy for me. I hold my mouth over the hole, panicked that I don't have any oxygen. Trapped in a wooden box with nothing but a little light.

I wake up from my nightmare, shaking, to banging on the door.

I tried to pull the duvet up to my mouth to hide but it's on the floor. Often when I have dreams like that, of my childhood, I kick and scream, cry and shout.

The banging on the door stops when I put my foot on the floor causing it to creak, he goes up the stairs - fast, closing the door behind him again.

I eat today's breakfast slowly. The clock turns continuously. It's rounded at least twelve times. Six days. I finish my food and put the tray in front of the door. I don't know what he does when he brings my tray in so I want it far away from me, I keep the flower though; pulling the petals off and laying them on the tray.

I position the petals to spell 'Monster' out, involving the stem and leaves too.

I bang on the door six times, for the six days he's kept me locked up. I hope I piss him off. Anger him enough to get him down here so I can take my chance at escape.

I take another shower this time with the door open and my clothes still on. I want to see his face, want to know the monster that keeps me here.

I take my clothes off and quickly get back under the water to properly rinse off, the water take over the silence for a second. I step out and grab my towel.

I look to my bed - no tray.

I think for a second if it's a good idea to try and catch him bringing me food. What if he doesn't bring me food anymore or he hurts me?

I grab another towel and pat my hair dry; walking into the bedroom again. Right where I left the tray, in front of the door, is a new one, flower, food, and water. What? I look away for two seconds and he has already come in.

In frustration, I yell out.

"You know if you're going to sneak in, can I at least get a hairbrush, you asshole!"

I turn from the door to the dresser next to it. I open the doors and my clothes fall from the top of the cabinet as I opened the doors it caused it to push my clothes off. I smell them.

Cedar, whiskey, nectar. He washed them?

I get changed into another pair of the same shirt and underwear. I sit on the bed and watch the clock again. It's quiet again except for a small beeping sound. I almost didn't hear it.

I move closer to the clock. It's placed right across from my bed. I can't reach the device so I pull the bedside table underneath it and stand on top. When I get my balance, I reach up and take the clock off the wall. I rotated it to look at the back and turned it over again when I see nothing unusual. The beeping is louder holding the clock.

I stare at the face and scream. "What! Why are you beeping!" Then I see it, a small little dot, barely noticeable. I pull it off and a small wire comes with it.

A camera.

A fucking camera.

He has been watching me this entire time when I just thought it was chance I missed him. I can't believe it. My mind runs.

Has he been watching me for fun or to see what I'm doing?

Does he... get off on it?

...

Is he a freak?

Yes.

Is it one person or two?

Do I know him?

Is it a him?

Can he see me shower?

Is he watching all the time?

Did he watch me throw the vase?

Or spell out monster?

Does he see my nightmares?

Is that why he banged on the door?

Who has taken me?

I hate living in fear. I thought after my father died and I moved away from my mother, the fear would leave. It lingers but it's never enough to take over me, Alice helped me with that, but now, now I can't even move knowing he could be watching. I took the camera out and crushed it but I don't know if it's the only one.

I want to scream, to punch and hit, pull my hair out, and cry. Yet I don't move, I;m paralyzed, glued to the floor - unable to breathe.

For a while, I sleep on the floor, still not moving. The tray has changed many times but I only take a mouthful. The flowers are the only constant I have, the only reminder of the outside world, my world before it came crashing down and shoved inside a wooden room.

Everytime I wake up, I swear he's in the room.

That he is under the bed or in the bathroom.

I don't know if he is watching or if there is even a camera but I feel like there is one on top of the dresser.

I scream out, throwing my bedding onto the floor, pulling the clock off it's hook, I kick it the dresser; until I fall to the floor.

To scared to move, I just stare at it. I hope he is watching, that he can see my face and the pain I have because of him.

On one of the trays he brought in a hairbrush. I stared at it for a while before throwing it at the dresser. "You give me a hairbrush but you won't let me out?" I laugh, chuckle, grin at the stupidity of it.

He listens when I call but ignores my pleas.

The world feels like like it's sinking beneath my feet. The water I swallow seems to go no where and the food never stays down.

The floor aches and cries when I do. I don't even notice when I am crying now until the area around me is wet. My stomach growls but I can't move, it's not worth it, the days repeat when I just want it to stop.

"If you want me to eat, you're going to have to feed me yourself." I yell out to the camera.

I hold myself tight and sleep.

I don't know when I wake up, hours? Days? I hope I slept for months.

The ground shakes. The bed wobbles. The flower shivers. It sounds like a car, a diesel truck of sorts. The thought to yell out, scream for help, comes into my head but I don't. I don't even blink.

I just accept that I'm boxed in. Trapped forever.

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