The Journal
by
Lori Meyer
The Journal
Lori Meyer
Copyright © 2011By Lori Meyer
For my husband and two daughters,
your endless loving support never surprises me
Preface
Staring out through my bedroom window into the now empty flower beds in my backyard, I couldn’t help the trickle of tears that flowed down my cheeks. On this very day, exactly one year ago, my mom disappeared from my life.
I always looked forward to helping her ‘decorate our backyard’ – as she used to call it – every spring, as soon as the Virginia sun thawed the ground in our small hometown of Berwine.
At the age of six, I could hardly contain my excitement when my mom first asked if I wanted to help her create beauty. For ten years after that, my mom and I grew picturesque flowers to enjoy each and every summer.
The dragon lilies were my favorite. Sure they were pretty flowers but it was the name that intrigued me most. I always believed the world held some sort of magic and I secretly hoped someday to tap into some of it.
An even though my mom told me magic was only found in fairy tales, she never rebuked me for my silly beliefs. But now, in her absence, my belief in magic was slipping away. If there were such a thing, how could something so horrible happen?
Backing away from the window, I found my feet leading me out of my room, – of their own volition – down the steps, out through the back door, and into the desolate dirt piles in our backyard.
Standing in the forsaken remains of happier times, all I could do was wonder why. But no one had any answers for me. I don’t know what I expected to discover out here each time I stepped into the backyard or even if I really thought I would find something. Maybe I just needed to come out to feel closer to someone I’d lost.
And any time my dad would catch me out here he would always say, “Lilian, you can’t keep doing this to yourself. Please come inside.”
And reluctantly, I would always do as he asked.
But I didn’t have to worry about him saying that right now. An emergency down at the police station assured that I was alone at the moment.
Interrupting my thoughts, a faint noise coming from the side of my house caught my attention, but not for long. I caught a quick glimpse of a fist connecting with the side of my head then I saw nothing at all.
Chapter One
It was cold, damp, and dark when I awoke sometime later. Where the hell was I? And man the pounding in my head. As I lifted my head off the hard floor, I scanned the area. To my dismay, nothing looked familiar. And the last thing I remembered was standing in my yard, staring at the bare flower beds. This was definitely not my backyard. Oh shit!
Scrambling to my feet, the dark room swirled for a moment until I was able to right it. I had to get out of there. Wherever there was.
Walking the perimeter of the room, hands inspecting every nook and cranny, I found it was a wooden shed, with no windows, one door that seemed to be boarded shut, and pretty much nothing else.
When I was pretty confident I had made a complete circle – or rectangle considering the shape of the small prison – I slumped to the ground. Putting my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands, I began to cry.
A few minutes later, while wiping the tears from my cheeks, my attention was drawn to a small brown leather book sticking out of a crack in between the wooden planks. How did I manage to miss that?
Gripping the book by its binding, I gently pulled it free from its nesting place. Curiosity getting the better of me, I opened to the first page.
Day 1
I don’t know what day it is because I don’t know how long I’ve been unconscious. I just know I have to escape. I miss Josh and Lilian. The two men who have taken me, they don’t say a word. I don’t know what they want with me. I’m scared and I want to go home.
A fresh torrent of tears streamed down my face. I recognized the handwriting and the names. Mom? This was my mom’s journal? But how…?
So caught up in my mom’s words and my own thoughts, I hadn’t realized the two men had entered until it was too late. The door shut abruptly behind them, sealing off any chance of escape.
I stealthily tucked the book under some dirt, trash, and brush that was lying on the floor beside me.
Although I was still pretty terrified, anger too had boiled in my blood. “What do you want from me?!” I shrieked, not really knowing if I actually wanted an answer. “Let me go!”
Neither of the men spoke. Their eyes just raked over me like a predator stalking its prey. But their wordless response spoke volumes.
In the dim light, I could just make out the basic features of the two men. They weren’t ugly or scaring looking. They just looked like ordinary people – one was incredibly tall and thin and the other was shorter with a bulkier build – and nothing stood out as extraordinary. But despite their normal appearances, they were monsters nonetheless.
But the fact that they didn’t talk made them appear less human and added to my terror. Seeing them as humans would have helped ease my anxiety of ever being able to find a way to flee. Maybe that was part of their plan.
Drawing on some courage from deep within myself, I pushed up off the floor and slowly approached the men. The bulkier man gave me a shove when I got too close – I wasn’t sure exactly what I had hoped to accomplish with that action but it didn’t matter – and sent me sprawling to the ground, into a heap of body and flailing limbs. I ended up in a far corner.
Then just as swiftly as they had entered, the two men left, sealing me back up into captivity.
Distraught over my failed attempt at freedom, I crawled back over to where I had hidden my mom’s journal. I turned to the next entry. Even though her words were grim, I found a small amount of comfort in them. After all, they were my mom’s words.
Day 2
I’m cold, tired, hungry, and terrified. The men have yet to say anything when they are around me. I haven’t been given anything to eat or drink, not that I would trust it anyway. I’m afraid to sleep but afraid not to because if the opportunity for escape arrives again, I need to seize it. I had found a loose board by the door and tried to pry it off, but I was too weak to wrench it free. The men came in while I was ripping at it and bolted it down.
Closing the journal, I shut my eyes as a fresh wave of tears cascaded down my face. These monsters did something to my mom. They killed her and now they wanted to kill me. She tried to get away but she couldn’t. Would that be my fate as well?
Then a crazy idea struck me. Could there be a loose board near the door I could rip free?
Since I had nothing better to do with my time, I tucked her journal under the pile of rubbish and crept over to the door. Then I ran my hands along the planks, grasping at any protruding edges. I was determined that no matter how long it took, I would check every square inch of this hellhole.
By the time I was almost finished with my inspection of the wooden planks surrounding the doorway – and finding nothing – I began to believe I was indeed foolish. Did I really expect to find something?
But then my fingers gripped a loose piece. I began tugging on it, gently at first and then more forcefully.
I don’t know how long I had worked on pulling at that piece of wood, which could possibly lead to my freedom, but exhaustion overtook me and I passed out.
Sometime later, I awoke to a diminutive amount of sunlight peeking in through the small hole I had created while trying to wrench that board free.
Shaking off the drowsy effects of a restless sleep, I returned to my task. A burst of adrenaline – most likely laced with despera
tion and panic – transformed me into a female version of the Hulk. The splintering wood dug into my finger tips and under my nails, drawing blood and shear agony, but I paid no attention; it was absolutely vital I broke out of there now.
Just as the plank of wood completely fractured, creating a gaping hole the size of a small sock drawer that I would no doubt shred clothes and skin to manage to crawl through, the two men approached.
Not wasting a single precious second, I dove through that hole. But I no sooner had myself out past my shoulders, when one of the men grabbed my waist and ripped me back into the shed. But not before I let out a blood curdling scream in the hopes that someone nearby would hear my plea for help.
While the bulkier man dragged me away from the hole, the other one began patching up my makeshift escape route.
While the tall one repaired the damage I had created, the bulkier one and I struggled. “Let me out of here! You can’t keep me like this! Someone will find me!”
He neither denied nor confirmed my claims. I just wanted some sort of verbal