Author's Note: Here's another chapter!! Thank you Gigi13 and MagicallyYours for reviewing the previous chapter, I'm very grateful! Keep the reviews coming, pleaase. xoxox. AnnaChase.

Dear Baby, 24th of December 1977

It's Christmas Eve, a time of joy, friends and family. You might have noticed the tone of my letters getting slightly less optimistic, I can't help it. I'm six months along now, and showing quite a lot. You're such a sweet baby, you sleep a lot but when you're awake it feels like you try to comfort me. The bigger you grow, the closer to my death I am, and that's a slightly depressing thought. I still have three more months to go here, but the days get worse and worse all the time. Especially on nights like these, Christmas Eve, I feel alone. I wish there was someone to talk to, even my annoying sister Liz would be good. Months ago I wished her gone after she stole my expensive nail polish, but now I miss her. I wonder if she misses me too, or is she too busy with one of her new boyfriends to do so? Strange to think that outside this cell life goes on without me. I bet mom and dad are looking for me. Perhaps they think I ran off with Daniel because they didn't approve of our relationship. They said your father was too old for me, while he was only 10 years older. I know relationships that have a lot more age difference and still go well. Mine didn't, of course, but still now I don't want my parents to be right. I loved Daniel with my whole heart, and it hurt me that they didn't trust him, even though they were right.

Daniel brought me my dinner earlier tonight, he even added a chocolate bar to it, like he could read my mind and knew that was exactly what I was longing for. Of course I didn't eat it, I wouldn't take anything from him. Not anymore. I bet he was so pleased with himself about sacrificing a few minutes of his precious Christmas Eve to be with the poor imprisoned girl instead of going to the Wolfram & Hart Christmas party. He probably thought he was doing such a good deed. He looked 'so' arrogant. At first I wasn't going to eat the rest of my dinner either, but I could sense that you were hungry so I set aside my pride and ate it. Your father talked to me as if I were a baby. He said it would be all right, it would be over soon. I can't help but wonder if he's saying this to: a) test his acting skills, b) try to ease his hopefully nagging conscience, or c) truly feels sorry for me. Probably a or b, maybe a combination, but definitely not c, because after a lot of pondering I decided it would be easiest to just think he doesn't have a heart. Why else would he be able to continue this, you're his child too, after all. I know you will be mad at him once reading all these letters, but remember that he probably couldn't help himself. Your father is stuck in a world of heartlessness; I assume he couldn't help but to lose his own, too. Anyway, I just ignored him as he talked to me about how pretty the Christmas tree was. It was decorated with pure gold. It sure sounded good, but at that moment I didn't understand why he was telling me about it, after all he would take me upstairs so I could clean myself a bit and use the toilet after I finished my dinner, and then I could see the Christmas tree. He did that every night, and morning too. I decided to ask him. He replied that I wouldn't be seeing it tonight because he couldn't take me upstairs while the party was going on. That truly saddened me, I had been looking forward to seeing the Christmas tree all day, it was the only thing that would assure me Christmas truly was happening and the world was still going on without me. I almost cried, but I wouldn't give Daniel that pleasure. I remained strong and cried inside my soul, where he couldn't look. He told me that this was better for me, and that he would come to get me for my little walk after the party ended. Which could of course be really late, but he failed to mention that. Of course he did, he always tried to make himself sound like a perfect man, who would do anything for those poorer or weaker than him. He even donated 10 of his damn six figure salary to charity. So yes, perhaps to anyone else he would seem like a good man; handsome, gentle, rich and successful. But he really isn't. The point is, he does all of this to make himself look good, and I don't think that's honest or good at all. Please darling, if you're once alone on a Christmas Eve and you've read this, think of your mother and remember that it can always be worse. Take care of yourself.

Your loving mother