“You’re right,” Ruth says and I can’t believe how easy this is, “I have a ton of plastic knives.” She lets out a little chuckle. She leaves, but reappears quickly after with a plastic knife and fork.

I stop pacing on the wooden floor, when it doesn’t calm me down and she enters. I don’t know how I’m getting out of this. How long have I even been in this house? The windows are nailed with dark wood and there are no clocks. Millions of ways of escaping run through my mind, but all of them are impossible, except one that has potential.

“I really need to go to the bathroom,” I say. It isn’t a lie, I really do. As a pregnant woman, I have to go to the bathroom a lot, but with all of the trauma, I’ve been repressing it.

“It’s right next door to your left, hon. Don’t try running, the hallway is locked,” She smiles. This bitch really thought this through. I walk out the room keeping my breath under control and enter the old style, dirty bathroom.

Now, for my plan.