12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

-Alison-

I requested permission to see Julia again, and to my surprise, Louis granted it. However, as I spent time with Julia, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Louis stood at a distance, observing us from the doorway without uttering a word. His silent presence cast an eerie atmosphere, but I did my best to focus on Julia, who eagerly shared stories about her dolls and teddy bears. Despite my attempts to engage with her, Louis's persistent gaze made it difficult to relax.

Suddenly, someone approached Louis, speaking quietly into his ear. His expression darkened, and he turned to me, commanding, "Stay with her."

I was puzzled by his abrupt change in demeanor, considering his initial reluctance to allow me near his daughter. Nevertheless, he swiftly closed the door and locked it, leaving me startled. I attempted to open the door, but it remained firmly shut. Frustrated, I leaned against it, exhaling deeply.

"It only unlocks with a key," Julia informed me matter-of-factly.

"What?" I responded, surprised by her unexpected input.

"The door. It only unlocks with a key. Pulling on it won't work," she explained calmly, her tone devoid of emotion.

I felt a sense of unease at her detached manner. While discussing her dolls, she had been smiling, but now she seemed distant. Running a hand through my hair, I scanned the room for any potential means of escape.

"You don't happen to have anything... sharp, do you?" I inquired hesitantly.

"Sharp?" she echoed, glancing over at me as I surveyed her room. Toys filled the space, alongside books of both fiction and non-fiction for her studies. Despite its contents, the room felt confining, like a cage. I was determined not to remain trapped here.

"Yes, something I could possibly use to pick a lock," I elaborated.

"You can pick a lock?"

"My husband taught me. It's a skill he..." I almost revealed how he used to break into my house, but I stopped myself just in time. "It was a technique he thought would be useful, and I agreed with him."

"Hmm, I don't think I have anything like that. But why would we need to leave?" she questioned, puzzled.

"Because we're trapped."

"We aren't trapped. This is my home," she countered, prompting a sigh from me.

I turned to her slowly, met with a bewildered expression.

"Julia, most children aren't confined to their rooms," I explained gently.

"Good parents keep their kids safe."

"I agree, but keeping kids safe doesn't mean locking them up," I countered.

"Do you have children?"

An old ache resurfaced in my heart, and I shook my head. "No, I couldn't have them."

"Then how do you know?"

"Because I used to be a child," I responded. "And my mother, when she was angry, would sometimes use it as a punishment."

"She'd lock you up?" Julia inquired, surprised.

"Yes," I confirmed solemnly.

"But she was trying to protect you," Julia defended.

"No, she did it because she knew how much it terrified me to be trapped. There was no love behind her actions."

"Dad says love isn't necessary. A parent just does what's right," Julia retorted.

I shook my head. "A parent does what's best for the child, but you're not supposed to be in here," I explained gently.

"Then where am I supposed to be?"

"Well, out there. With other kids, going to school, making friends, creating memories, maybe even falling for someone," I suggested.

Julia pondered this, casting a glance over her shoulder from where she sat on the floor. Her gaze drifted to the large windows that bathed the room in the fading light of the setting sun. I could sense a spark of longing within her, but then she shook her head.

"Dad says the world is dangerous. It's best for me to stay in here," she stated solemnly.

"But didn't you also say your dad didn't care about you?" I challenged gently.

"He doesn't really, but he also does," she replied.

I could see the struggle in her young mind to reconcile her father's contradictory behavior and explanations. It was evident that nothing made sense to her, yet this little room was all she knew.

"Julia, a father doesn't lock up his child," I asserted firmly.

"Didn't your father?"

"No, he was the one who let me out."

"He let you out?" she repeated, surprised.

"Yes, whenever my mother locked me up. He would wait until she calmed down, and then he would come find me. He used to shower me with gifts," I recounted.

"I thought you said he wasn't good," Julia remarked, puzzled.

"He... wasn't. But he still provided for me," I clarified, acknowledging the complexity of the situation.

"My dad provides as well."

"But he shouldn't lock you up. I can promise you, the life you could have beyond these walls could be amazing. I mean, don't you enjoy being outside?" I prompted.

Julia pondered this for a moment before nodding.

"What if you could decide for yourself when to leave or stay inside?"

"That sounds... good," she replied tentatively.

"Yes, and imagine being able to go out and play with friends," I suggested.

"I don't have any friends."

"You could make some."

"I wouldn't know how to," she admitted hesitantly.

"You just need to be yourself. You've already won me over," I reassured her.

"What did I do?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

"You were just kind," I explained.

Julia began to smile, though it was clear she still struggled with the idea of life beyond these walls. Unsure of how to further convince her, I respected her desire to end the conversation as she returned her attention to her dolls.

While she occupied herself, I continued my search, meticulously inspecting every drawer, shelf, and hiding spot. Even the bathroom didn't yield any useful discoveries. Frustrated, I leaned against the counter, resting my head in my hands. The sun sank lower in the sky, casting lengthening shadows through the room. Suddenly, I heard voices emanating from beyond the bedroom door. Intrigued, I approached the door and pressed my ear against it, but the voices grew fainter, as if retreating deeper into the house. Who could be here? I wondered, before turning my attention back to Julia.

"Have you had dinner yet?" I inquired.

"No," she replied, her gaze fixed elsewhere.

"So someone will come and bring it to you, right?" I probed.

"Yes, but not until after my dad has eaten."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "It's just how it is. He eats first."

"Did you used to eat together?" I pressed.

"Yes, when Mom was still here, but I don't think he ever liked having dinner with us, especially not with me," she admitted.

"Why not?"

"I think I made too much noise and spilled things."

"That's what kids do," I reassured her.

"He didn't like it," she disclosed.

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. She reminded me too much of myself, evoking memories of a childhood I'd rather forget.

"Julia?" I called, meeting her eyes, and she nodded. "I need your help."

"My help?"

"Yes."

"With what?" she inquired.

"When your caretaker comes, I need you to keep her distracted," I explained.

"Distracted?" she repeated, confusion evident in her tone.

"I need to... get the key."

"But why?"

"So I can get us out of here," I stated plainly.

"But why would we want to leave?" she countered.

"So you can be free. Don't you want to be free?"

She shrugged, unable to fully grasp the concept of freedom without experiencing it firsthand. I sighed, offering her a reassuring smile before moving closer.

"Kids are meant to be free," I emphasized, crouching down beside her and placing a hand on her shoulder.

She glanced at my hand uncertainly.

"They're meant to explore and learn from the world," I continued.

Still, she seemed unconvinced.

"I can promise you that being out there is much better than in here."

"But I don't lack anything in here," she countered.

"Is that your dad's opinion or yours? You must have wanted to explore. Didn't your mother encourage it?" I probed gently.

"She did want me outside, but she also agreed that the world was dangerous," she recalled.

"I think she was just afraid of your father more," I confessed. "I don't believe she wanted you to be stuck in here."

"Where else am I supposed to be? Do you know where my mom is?"

I bit my lower lip, struggling with a possible truth I couldn't reveal. I ran my hand through her hair, offering another comforting smile.

"Maybe we can search for her when we get out," I suggested, trying to maintain her hope.

"Do you think so?" she asked eagerly.

Despite my guilt for deceiving her, I couldn't bear to shatter her optimism. Julia spoke so fondly of her mother. I couldn't imagine she would willingly abandon her daughter.

"Yes, let's search for her together. But I need your help. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she replied, determination evident in her voice.

"Good. Here's what we'll do."