‘I am Candice Lee,’ these words are whispered into the thin material of my now filthy t-shirt.
Is it night or day?
The rising of the sun and moon must surely still occur outside but I don’t know if it’s high or low, if the moon is full or just a grin like on the night I was taken. There’s only this room. Only this one globe emitting its shadowy orange light. It’s on always. Illumination for the camera in the corner of the ceiling, that unblinking eye. These four walls throb around me and I swear I feel them quiver like a hand longing to make a fist. To crush me.
Will I die here?
Will… I will myself not to go crazy. I scream silently into my hands. I dig my nails into the wooden planks of this crate until they splinter. I dare not make a sound to break the heavy silence all around this place – wherever I am.
No, it’s not silent. There’s a drum beat. A pulse like water dripping through pipes or a heartbeat. Sometimes it feels like I’ve been swallowed alive.
He whose face I have still not seen restocks the room; empties the bucket of waste, delivers food and dumps the next load of work I must complete. My guess is he comes every second or third day but time is hard to fathom in the constant sameness of the orange glow. He does not speak much. There’s no need, his orders clear, the routine is set. I am to work. I am to sew. I am to cook my food on the tiny gas stove that sputters dangerously.
I am Candice Lee. I am a daughter. I am a student of the fine arts and the Royal City University. They will be searching for me but can I be found?
Funny, the things that give comfort in a time like this. Fingers run back and forward over the prickles of hair that have sprouted over my legs. That’s how long it’s been. Mum and I had went to the beauty salon on the Tuesday and my legs were waxed then. Now the hairs are over a centimeter long. It feels like power, this knowledge because everything has been taken from me and yet my body tells me it must be over a month now.
Fingers touch hairs. I am Candice Lee. I am still Candice Lee.
