21

Threw up the last bit of the groceries. I think I threw up the cheese, or the milk curdled in my stomach or something. I groan in disgust and wipe my mouth. I almost forgot I was pregnant. Almost. My stomach is not big yet, I wonder how long it that will take.

As my thoughts turn to-this unborn thing- I develop fresh panic. What is it? What on Earth will it look like? Oh God what if it kills me? How will I ever manage to give birth to it? Jesus, what if it eats me inside out?

As I get back to my corner I collapse and cry in dread again. What am I going to do? What am I going to do? I have to do something, it won't stay inside forever. I think I'm feeling a panic attack coming on again. I cup my hands over my mouth and nose and breathe rapidly. I do this for what seems like hours until my breath deepens and I can no longer hear the wheezing of air being forced into a narrow panicked windpipe.

After a while I forget what I was thinking about.

I'm lolling in the corner; I think I'm high from lack of oxygen. I think a silly smile is on my face. I feel a nose against mine, I hear that sound-what is it? That sucking sound… Oh! I know what it is! It's that creepy noise Hannibal Lecter makes!

"Ha-ha-ha- HA!" I scream/laugh in near hysteria. "He eats people and you eat people!", I giggle stupidly, "do you enjoy fava beings and a nice Chianti?"

He hauls me up off the ground and pushes me against the wall. He isn't rough but he isn't gentle either. "No, no, no, no, no", I moan in horror I struggle to find a way to resist but my mind is like molasses, so I just let a few tears drip down. He just smells me, his nose is right on my lips and he grimaces in distaste. He knew I threw up. He lets me sink to the floor.

"I'm sorry." I whisper. Why the hell did I say that? It's not my damn fault I threw up. In fact it's his damn fault. But I'm just frightened and miserable. I sink to the floor. He looks back at me, then opens his mouth, "Chianti, don't smell good." he grunts. Then he grins. I smile demurely back. I'm just grateful.

Later

I was sleeping soundly. Then I open my eyes. There was no transition, no sleepiness; I was just instantly, totally awake. I had remembered the carving suddenly. I put my hand over my womb.

"He's going to have wings." I whisper.

For some reason this does not alarm me. I fall gently back into sleep.

25

Just dry heaves. There's nothing left in my stomach. It's so empty it hurts. This is probably the hungriest I've been in my entire life, but I don't care. I'm just too distracted.

I'm a captive and a plaything, I'm bearing the child of what I assume is a demon. I've been raped. I've seen people die in horrible ways.

But there's nothing I can do.

I know he won't eat me, and I don't think I'll die having this child. Yet I still have to worry, I really don't know anything yet. What will happen if I do escape? What happens afterwards? There are too many unknowns. I want to cry in helplessness and scream in rage.

My biggest fear is being raped again. He can do it anytime he wants, and there's nothing I can do to stop him. He loves my taste and smell, he almost seems addicted to it.

I was a virgin.

That thought comes totally unbidden. I never really thought about it, but it's true. It was never hugely important to me. I was told, I mean I was basically asked to remain so until marriage. However I was a virgin because I simply had no desire for anyone yet, not because I believed in the morality behind it. But now that it is gone I'm unhappy, well unhappier. I feel my resentment towards the Creeper grow.

I can feel my eyes prick again, I've been crying too much. My eyes seem swollen it feels like the lids don't close over them at night sometimes. There's nothing I can do. I have to be strong until I get out of here, but what of the "child"? I didn't really believe in killing the unborn, but can I do it now? Can I kill it? Will he be a man-eater too?

I shake my head, too many unknowns, I need more knowledge, I- I need to speak to him again.

26

I've drawn some more, and I've wandered around, mostly out of boredom again. He stopped to smell me when he did he saw my pictures I left carelessly on my "bed".

When he made to get them I tried to grab them first, but he was much too quick for me. He snatches up the flimsy little notebook from my "nest" of blankets and rags and gazes the first page curiously. Now I'm horribly embarrassed. Even as the feeling washes over me I realize its illogic, a small flame of anger simmers underneath. This is MY notebook, these are MY things don't touch them you slimy bastard! Luckily fear and reason keep that flame on low.

Still I don't want him looking over what I wrote, what I drew, what my friends made for me. My throat tightens and I try something desperate. "Please." I beg and move closer, "please give it back" I make to grab it.

Once again he's too quick. He simply holds it away from me. I move even closer awkwardly trying to grab it, while he tries to hold it away and read it simultaneously.

"Give. That. Back." I say through my effort and gritted teeth, the anger is seeping through this is dangerous.

I'm too close to him, way too close. Closer than I would normally voluntarily go. But anger, frustration and silly human possessiveness has held the fear a little at bay. I realize what I'm doing when he stops reading and simply stares at me. His face is way too close for comfort. We're practically nose to nose again. He stares at me and smirks.

I slowly get off my tiptoes and draw back. Before he has the chance to grab me I retreat.

Later

I've been quiet, and he hasn't bothered me, but I want to get my notebook back.

I'm so afraid of him, you have no idea how stifling this mortal fear is, how paralyzing his effect can be. I don't fight back, I can't fight back. What can I do?

I chew on my knuckle in distress, then begin reassuring myself: He won't kill you, he doesn't want to kill you, if he wanted to kill you he would have done it a long time ago.

True, he could have, and would have killed me long before if that was his desire, and of course now he can't, but still being near him carries other risks, I sigh at the bitter memories, of the stupid mistake I made in poking curiously into the gas station, of sliding down the drain pipe thinking it was an escape, of stopping to stare in wonder and horror and his "art".

It will happen again eventually.

I sigh in resentment and bite my lip, tears welling again. Then I abruptly decide not to cry, I'm too tired of it. My yawns tell me that the fatigue is physical as well. I've been drained of energy. Thankfully I'm not required to sleep in his presence, even when he's not violent he's menacing. His company, his glare, his eyes, it's all too disturbing.

But I have wonderful dreams.

Sleep

My dreams were not vivid, they were not regurgitated horrors or even frightening messages, they seemed almost happy.

I dreamed of a friend, a friend I've had forever but had never seen. He spoke gently to me, he put his are around my shoulder, he reassured me, and he teased me and called me good natured names. He was like a brother.

He seemed aware of my predicament and deeply sympathetic, like he understood, and even if I felt the urge to sink into despair his comforting presence and general good nature never kept me sad for long. He was such a joy to be around.

Two things bothered me however: I could never see his face, which I felt disappointed him. He always seemed behind me, or just next to my shoulder or just some how frustratingly out of my range of vision. As much as I wanted to turn to see him I couldn't, either the dream prevented me or for some reason I couldn't bring myself to do it. However he didn't press me about it, even though I sensed that he wanted me too.

What he wanted me to do the most as something I didn't want to do. It was never directly stated but my dream-brother-friend wanted me to gather my courage, he wanted me to confront HIM.

I couldn't do it, I didn't want to do it, and I protested it with all my being.

He didn't coerce, or threaten or even try to persuade me. He simply implied that it was something I had to do. He tried to free me from anxiety; he said I could do it. He claimed I was brave. He said once bad things were gotten over with they weren't as bad.

I woke up shortly after. I had the distinct impression that whoever this boy was, he was long gone.

27

I've been hovering near the hallway that leads to his gruesome little workshop; I've taken several deep about-to-plunge-in breaths. I've been psyching myself up all morning. I have yet to do anything.

All this time I've felt so slothful and useless. Maybe it's the sickness I have in the morning, maybe it's the fact I haven't eaten in a few days, but I'm possessed by a feeling that can only be captured with a tired sigh. Still, I have to eat, all my food is gone, and unless I turn cannibal there's nothing to eat here (shudder, gag), I have to ask him for more food, at the very least.

So I've just been standing here, trying to force myself to confront him, but I don't want to, I really, really don't want to.

I'm about to release my millionth sigh, when I have an odd surge of courage, I thought back to my dream and smiled slightly. Despite not being real it was a good, comforting dream. Remembering the dream makes my feet move forward, a little, I have to wander down a labyrinth to seek a monster, just like Perseus, I think, or was it Theseus?

The closer I get the more I'm afraid, I try to soothe myself, I know he won't kill me, he might force himself on me again, might. What else do I have to fear form him? Is it because I can't look into his horrible face, especially his horrible eyes?

I can't help thinking back to last time I confronted him. Ohh that memory still makes me sick; I hated him so much for that trauma, although to be fair he didn't actually do anything to harm me during that confrontation. Maybe it was my fault, ignorance is bliss. I try to make a joke out of it; unless its twins he can't surprise me again!

Oh God, he's just in that room, I feel so craven, I try to resurrect the feeling I receive from the dream but that can't help me. So I try anger-I want my notebook back damn it- I push open the heavy wooden door.

The room inside is big and dour. At first glance it's mind bogglingly normal. A big standard office desk, a heavy bookcase, there's even a file cabinet.

A second glance reveals the twisted wrongness of it. Just like the church, somethin so normal and familiar that it should have been comforting was warped and twisted by evil. The heavy desk was carved into minutely detailed writhing figures, the file cabinet looked liked it had claw marks on it and of course human corpses were hung up.

They were everywhere.

I thought I could get away from them, that I wouldn't have to see them again once I left the church, but they're just decorations to him. They are every where he is. I might have run away screaming then. I might have lost it then and there but something saved me. I forced myself to look at them the way he does-that is with no empathy. They were merely decorations, I told myself, and they're not real. Indeed they look almost like mannequins. I half convince myself he found old department store mannequins in a dump some where and hung them up. That helps, but it helps more not to look at them.

Horror almost makes me forget my original purpose and I shake my head to clear it. The Creeper is not here and I do not wish to linger. I try to find my notebook. I first check his desk, but it's merely littered with tools and half finished "art projects". Next I try the file cabinet, only to discover the Creeper's filings-of human bones.

"OOokay", I say with a deep intake of breath, "Moving right along." I close the file cabinet and turn to the bookcase. A feeling gives me pause before I start searching for the notebook there. I would have ignored it and continued searching, but a loud CAW makes me jump about a foot in the air, trip over my own bare feet and nearly crash into the human mannequins.

Standing in the doorway and softly sniggering was the Creeper.

­

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A/N: Duhn-dun-duh! To be continued. (It was Theseus)

Important!: In a shameless attempt to garner more reviews I'm going to make all you readers a deal. I will send you a free preview picture of the unborn baby inside Maria if you leave me a review that contains 1) What you like and/or dislike about this fic and why 2) A request for the pic and 3) an email address (to mail it to you). I didn't draw it so I'm not going to take credit for it, but it's so absolutely adorable that I had to use it.

Free pic people. If you love the idea of a baby Creeper than just leave the three things above and it's yours.