Silent Child(88)

Then I got older and I started thinking other thoughts. What if the generator broke? What if the electricity goes out and I’m stuck in the dark? What if the ventilator clogs up and I suffocate to death? But the worst that had happened so far was the toilet flush breaking or the time I got a stomach bug. Both those times he threw the cleaning products into the cage and watched me clean up from the other side of the bunker, holding a scarf over his mouth and nose.

At least it gave me something to do. There’s never anything to do and that makes me crazy. Sometimes he brings me books. I ask for pens and pencils but one time I jabbed the pencil in my arm and he only brought me crayons after that. I draw pictures with them but I want to learn to get better. I can’t do that with wax crayons.

Sometimes he cuts my hair. Sometimes he brings down a tub and pours hot water into it so I can have a bath. He tells me he loves me and sometimes I believe it.

But I don’t want to stay here and I never have. That’s why he makes sure I’m locked in the cage every night. Then he locks me in from the main door. I hear him walk up the steps before there’s a clunk. I think there are two doors.

I’ll spend hours wondering where I am. I draw pictures of what I think it looks like. When he comes into the room, I see the mud on his boots and so I know we’re outside somewhere. Maybe it’s a field. Maybe I’m on a farm. I don’t remember much about the day I was taken. One minute I was looking at the river, the next I woke up on a bed surrounded by metal bars.

I didn’t understand anything.

I cried and cried for Mum but she never came. I guess she doesn’t know where I am because I think she’d come if she did.

I asked for a map once, but he didn’t bring it. I guess he forgot. I wanted him to show me where we were on the map. Mum used to show me maps all the time. She’d show me pictures on the computer of different places in the world and I always said that I wanted to go there.

I used to try and think of ways to get out. He used to let me out of the cage sometimes, but he was big and strong and if I tried anything I got a smack round the mouth. I’ve been trying stuff a lot recently. I dunno why. I’m changing, I guess. I’m getting bigger and I don’t like it down here anymore. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of him.

He keeps the keys in his pocket. Two weeks ago I tried to hit him with a plate, but he saw what I was going to do and pulled the plate from my hands. After that he gave me paper plates. I’m not allowed knives or anything sharp. I’m not allowed shoes with shoelaces. I have to eat cereal and bread and fruit all the time, nothing that needs knives and forks. Unless I’m supervised by him.

He’s changed too. He looks at me differently. He doesn’t do the stuff he used to. He says I’m getting big and that I look all wrong. He mumbles to himself about being tired when he thinks I’m not listening. He looks tired. I don’t think he likes keeping me a secret anymore. Sometimes I wonder if he’ll just never come back. Then I’ll run out of food, water, electricity, water… I’ll die.

There were times when I thought it might be nice to die. At least then I might get to go somewhere else. But I don’t know for sure, so I decided not to. I might one day get out of my cage, but I might not go anywhere when I die, so it seemed too risky.

It’s 9:15. This is it. He’s never coming back. I’ve almost run out of food and I’m cold. My shirts and jumpers are all too small for me. The nights are colder lately. Maybe that means winter. I remember winter outside the bunker. I remember making a snowman and throwing snowballs. Sometimes he shows me movies on his phone. I like the Christmas movies the best. I like watching the happy families making snowmen and snow angels. But they make me cold so I only watch them when it’s warm in the bunker.

I walk back and forth in my cage trying to keep warm. I press the button on my LED light. On. Off. On. Off.

Thu-thunk.

The first door.

A scrape.

The key.

The door opens.

He’s here.

“Hiya, mate. Sorry I’m late.”

He’s always friendly like that. I don’t talk back.

“I brought you a treat. Pizza.” He grins at me.

I don’t want it to, but my mouth waters. I’m so hungry my tummy hurts.

“It’s a bit cold. It’s a walk from the car to get to here. Should’ve built this place closer.”

He always complains. Especially when he has to fill up the water tank.

“How you doing, mate? You look cold. You should wrap up in the duvet when you’re cold.”

There’s something wrong. He’s avoiding my eye and I don’t know why. He’s never brought pizza to the cage before. Why is he doing this? I stare hungrily at the pizza. I cross my arms and try to figure out why something feels wrong.

“Want to come out here and eat?” he asks.

I nod.

He puts the pizza box on the table and reaches into his pocket for the key. His fingers are shaking. Why is he trembling like he’s scared? He never has been before. Not even right at the beginning. It always frightens me that he’s so calm and in control. I never liked that. It used to make me think about what else he could do. What was he capable of? I decided he was capable of anything very early on and that was why I did everything he told me to do, no matter what.

It takes him a few attempts to unlock the cage door. He’s fumbling with his keys. He keeps his head angled away from me. I stand away like I always do. I’m not allowed near the door to my cage. I have to keep my hands out in front of me where he can see them, otherwise he’s forced to hurt me like he did the time he stamped on my ankle. Or he tells me he’ll put me back in the shackles like at the beginning.