Prologue: Emma

25th of August, 2012

Eyes closed, I forced myself to concentrate on the sounds around me, I had become a very good listener. There was no sign of movement in the house, everything was silent. I wasn't sure if he was home, perhaps not.

My skin felt cold whereas my forehead was burning up. The stone walls and floor felt cold on my body, so I curled up on the mattress, making sure my body wasn't touching them. There was no heating in the room of eight steps by six steps. I had counted it many times.

I suspected it must've been winter by now, the cold had never gotten to me like this. The only cover I had was an oversized white shirt and my underwear. No blankets. No pillows. I resided on an old mattress which had been way overused before it was placed in this room. In the middle was a hole where I had sat too much, no I sat mainly on the left side, which was already starting to show signs of wearing out too.

Moving was painful. I tried to move daily, walk circles, squares, pace up and down or try to stretch. Some days were more painful than other ones, depending on the bruises and the place he had hurt me.

This was one of the painful days, I had laid still for too long, causing my body to feel stiff. I forced myself upwards and simply sat up for a while, feeling my back complaining every second of it.

I knew every inch of this room. There was a steel door which had nothing but a keyhole on the inside, after unlocking it, he would push it open. There was an old sink on the wall, with no tap so there was no water. Under it was a bucket which I used instead of a toilet. I hadn't seen a toilet in a long time. Months- years maybe? There was no sense of time in here. It was hard to judge whether it was day or night. There was a tiny window, high in one of the walls, which a toddler might be able to squeeze through. It had been painted black on the outside, leaving no light to fill the room but a small weak lightbulb hanging on the sealing.

But sometimes, when he was away, I opened the window and could see a small snippet of the pavement. It was a small alley and I could not look further then the gutter, but it was special to me, it was the only thing that somewhat brought me in contact with the outside world. The only thing that reminded me that there were still people out there, maybe they were even looking for me.

Openings the window slightly let more light inside the. That was what I craved for every single day, a view rays of light. It was as if those rays of light dragged me out of this terrible reality, as if there was still hope.

My gaze wandered off towards the window. It was staring back at me, challenging me to push it open. I bit my dry and cracked bottom lip. I usually waited for at least long enough for me to mumble a story to myself, as if I were reading it to a child. The stories varied.

I held my breath and continued to listen carefully; I heard no sign of his presence, only the sound of the creaky old walls suffering because of the wind and the rain that gently tapped on the window. I remained still for several minutes, checking once more whether there was any sign of life in the house. I decided that he had to be away and made the decision to try to open the window.

I listened attentively and then slowly crept up, supporting my weak body by holding on to the wall. My legs hurt, having to support my weight is something that they didn't do often. As I made my way towards the window and forced myself to stand on my toes. Doing so I was able to reach the handle, took a deep breath and pushed the window open slightly.

The smell of garbage and dirt entered my nostrils and I smiled. It was much better than the smell of this small room which was filled with my sweat, dirt and feces.

I hadn't pushed hard enough to open the window in a way that light would pass through it, I decided to give it another push.

As I did so, the window creaked loudly causing me to freeze immediately, anxiously listening for any sign that could indicate that he had heard me, if he was home in the first place. I breathed heavily and trembled slightly. No sound.

I breathed out. I wasn't sure if my knees could carry me for much longer than this, so I let myself slide down on the old mattress.

I stared at the old wooden window, allowing light to shine through softly. In the light I could see my own body; scarred and bruised arms and legs. Some places had burn marks, shaped like small circles which colored dark red.

A few days ago I had counted all of them; forty-three.

He had put forty-three cigarettes out on my skin. I thought back to the excruciating burning pain, the helpless feeling it would give me. I hated that feeling; knowing that I couldn't do anything to stop it. Praying to someone, God, anyone to make it stop, anyone who would listen. But no one ever did.

In the beginning I was still driven by hope. Hope that I could escape, or the hope that someone would find me. No one did. I could only wait, knowing that this was my life and that this was the place I was going to die, I just waited for death to claim me. Why I waited? I have absolutely no idea.

I had my eyes open for so long, they had started to sting. Watching the thin rays of light shine on the floor was as hypnotizing and entertaining as it could get for me. There was nothing here, just me and my imagination.

I noticed I started to go drowsy and had to try hard to keep my eyes open, fixed on the lights. I closed them for just a couple of seconds, knowing I had lost to the dark and feel asleep with my back against the cold hard wall.

BANG! My eyes shot open wide. I immediately recognized the sound of a door opening. Not the door to this room, but another one. I knew that when I would hear that sound, it would be exactly 42 seconds before he would reach the door of this room. My eyes shot up to the window that I had pushed open. I crawled up and struggled not to make any sounds. My heart beat in my chest and I knew I was panicking. Just as my hand almost reached the handle of the window, I heard footsteps on the stairs. I started to pull on the handle harder, but it was like the rusty lever had chosen sides; his side.

Footsteps in the hallway. I knew it was too late. With tears in my eyes I dropped back on the mattress, pulled up my legs to my body, hugged them with my arms and cradled myself while staring frantically at the wall. I heard the rambling of the key in the door lock and heard the soft click which indicated that it was unlocked. The door opened slowly. I did not look.

Something fell on the ground with a blow. A brown mixture splashed on the ground in front of me, staining the mattress and splashing the sticky sauce on my feet.

'Eat!' he barked at me.

I looked in his direction with downcast eyes, too scared to look him in the eye, anxiously waiting for him to find out what I had done.

He had a cigarette in his mouth and looked at me with confused expression on his face, as if he was trying to solve a crossword puzzle. I was behaving differently than I usually did and he knew. He let some smoke escape from his mouth and calmly allowed his eyes to glide through the room. His eyes stopped moving when he saw the window that still stood ajar. He showed no emotion as he looked back at me.

'So. Breaking the rules, are we? 'He asked calmly and walk towards me slowly. I crawled into the corner and tried to make myself even smaller, hideaway in my arms who couldn't protect me from him for long.

He grabbed my chin with his right hand, jerking my head up and forcing me to look him in the eyes. He blew a stale of cigarette smoke from his mouth, creating a burning feeling in my eyes.

He nipped on his cigarette again before he grabbed the cigarette with his thumb and index finger. I knew what was coming, I knew what I was going to feel. I began to squeal and tried to pull my arm away, but he held it firmly.

'Please. No- please don't- ' I pleaded, tears streaming from my eyes.His eyes were cold and empty, but I closed mine when I felt how he put out the 300 to 400 degree burning cigarette on my skin. I screamed in pain and tried to pry my arm away helplessly, but his grip was too strong, and I was too weak.

He pulled the cigarette from my skin and threw it on the ground. He reinforced his grip and pressed me against the wall harshly, making me shriek out in pain.I felt tears streaming down my face, afraid of what he was going to do to me this time.