I’ve already exhausted every resource at the library. I have to go further.
What I’m doing is incredibly dangerous. I won’t be able to leave the house for a while.
I’m doing it during the day. They’d be awake if I came at night.
I’m afraid to leave her for so long, but she can take care of herself now.
Besides, I need the book.
All my work, all my care, and they got her anyways! They didn’t take her, but it won’t matter- she’ll go to them when she comes of age, now, if I don’t fix this fast!
She’s still eating, still breathing. They haven’t got her yet.
I have no choice. She’s old enough to be on her own, and mine enough still so as not to let them in.
I have to leave the house. I knew this day would come, when I would need to go forth and find the things she will need to know. I just didn’t think I would ever need to know them.
I have to go to the library.
It may be her only hope.
We had her birthday today.
She’s seven now. By all rights, she should be starting school.
I’m teaching her everything I know. I bought a school workbook from the supply store.
Still, she’s going to start asking soon. She’ll want to know why she can’t go outside, why she can’t answer the door, and I won’t have good answers. What will she believe?
The night knocks are becoming more and more frequent. They wake me up, and I have to remind myself that they can’t come in if I don’t let them.
I’ve made sure of that.
She comes first. Always.
She’s the center of this world I’ve made, this crystal childhood palace built on lies.
The other day she got out at night, I don’t know how. I must have forgotten to lock the door.
I’m just glad they didn’t find her. I don’t know what I’d do.
She’s growing too fast.
I can’t protect her forever.
It’s hard just keeping her little world together.
But I love her. I’ll love her forever.
She is the one.
This is my home.
It’s not a big home, but it’s mine.
No one can take it away from me.
And you can’t have her, either.