You come into your kitchen, making the same meal. I can see you putting the same bagel into the toaster as you yell at your son to put his shoes on for school. Your husband left for his job hours ago, and it would be easy to come out of this hole where I’m hiding.
The cast iron pan sits on the stove; if I could reach it, I would bash both your brains in. But this crawl space is too narrow to move quickly. So I’ll wait until you leave and raid the refrigerator. The way you stand at the refrigerator door, perplexed about how the cheese, beer, and jam go missing. Scratching your head as random loaves of bread and cans of soup and vegetables disappear from your pantry.
Your husband bound and gagged me before throwing me into this hole in the crawl space of your house. He offered me a ride home from school when my mother refused to pick me up. I should have walked. He hid me when you were out of the house. The tortures he put me through are unimaginable, yet you never hear my screams. As you watch the news channel about my disappearance, I am bound and gagged in your wall.
Eventually, I found a way out of the ropes and the gag. I snuck out during the day to eat food. I tried to escape, but your husband came home before just as I was sneaking out. He bound me again and said if I ever got the help, he would kill my entire family.
So turnabout is fair play. I will kill one of you; this will be over, and I will be free. I must put my wrist back into the ropes before he comes home. I’ll devise another plan to get out and ensure he’s in jail before he can do anything to my mom.
If only you knew what he was up to. Maybe you do know and don’t care. For now, I’ll wait in this hole you never noticed.