She heard a dog barking in the distance. He was back. She went to turn but flinched. The pain from her tear burned and throbbed. She hoped he’d stay at the house with his mother but she heard his footsteps approaching. The key turned in the lock and he entered. She listened as he stomped up the stairs.

‘He was looking, he had a knife, that bastard had a knife and he’d have used it,’ he yelled as he slammed his hand into the door she lay behind. She remained as still as she could. She had to look like she was sleeping, that way he might just talk to himself for a couple of minutes then leave.

He unlocked the door and a shaft of light entered her cell. The oil lamp flickered and lit up the room, casting elongated, moving shadows over the walls. The last shape looked just like a rabbit. She’d played puppet shadows with both of her children. She closed her eyes and tried to think back to better times. If she thought hard enough and looked like she was asleep, he might go. She swallowed. He stopped still. Had he heard her? ‘What to do, what to do,’ he whispered, beginning to pace, taking the lamp with him. Through closed lids she could see the light flickering. The shapes, concentrate on the shapes, she thought.

The first shape was a circle, what could it be? The circle disappeared off into the distance before being replaced with another circle. The sun, she was looking at the sun. Heidi would’ve agreed. Max didn’t like doing shadow puppets, preferring colouring or generally making a mess.

He stopped pacing; she kept her eyes closed. All she could see was red through her eyelids. He was close. She felt the warmth of the lamp on her back. She needed to swallow and gasp for breath but she forced herself to breath in and out, in and out. She couldn’t show him that she was awake.

He took a few steps back. She heard him place the lamp down on the worktop outside her room. She exhaled and opened her eyes, then watched as his shadow almost filled the wall. She held her breath and closed her eyes again.

‘I don’t know what to do. What do I do?’

She ignored him and remained still.

He pulled back the quilt. She shivered as a cold draft went up her back. His cold hand rubbed her neck. She remained still. The pain in her groin and lower stomach was making her feel like heaving. He sat beside her and began stroking her back with both hands before lying next to her. He dragged the blankets over his body, spooning her. His warm breath made her shiver. A tear rolled down her cheek. Not now, she thought, please not now.

Tears flooded her face and her nose began to fill. She couldn’t stop the sniffling that came with it. ‘Boo.’ She flinched and sobbed. ‘I knew you were awake.’

‘Please, I’m tired and not feeling well.’

‘What harm do you think I’m going to bring? For heaven’s sake,’ he yelled, abruptly getting out of the bed. ‘I need to talk. I need some love and comfort. I’m always looking after you, but where are you when I need you?’

She turned and sat up. ‘I’m sorry.’ She wiped her tears away. At least he’d moved away from her. ‘What do you need to talk about?’

‘I went to the house.’ Debbie shivered. ‘I just wanted to know if Florence was there, by God I’ll kill him if she ever is. He’s not having my Florence. That bastard threatened me with a knife.’

Debbie imagined Luke being disturbed in the middle of the night. Were her children scared? Luke had seen him off. She wanted to smile but she held back. She imagined Luke there with a knife, standing in front of him. She then imagined Luke pressing the knife into his flesh and twisting it until the life drained from his body, but that’s not what had happened. Her kidnapper was standing in front of her, looking shaken but well. He removed his black hooded top and dropped it on the floor outside her room. Sweat trickled down his face and his hair was stuck to his forehead.

‘Was she there? The baby?’ Debbie almost regretted asking. He could answer or he could question her motives for asking. He stared at her before walking over and sitting on the bed.

‘I couldn’t hear her crying. Maybe she’s still at the hospital. I can’t go there again.’ He paused. ‘That man can’t have my Florence. I swear—’ He punched the bed and roared.

Debbie closed her eyes and tried not to weep. She had no idea where her little one would end up, but there was a possibility it would be with Luke. The thought of him going to her house, scaring her children and attacking her husband was too much. Once again, tears flooded her face. ‘Luke won’t have her. I promise. My mother will have her. She’s not his baby, she’s our baby. Can we please leave Luke alone now and get on with our lives, our plans?’

He stroked her hair and wiped away her tears before leaning down and kissing her on the head. ‘I will do anything you want, but I’ll snap his neck before he ever gets his hands on my child, my Florence.’ He lay on the bed and put his arm around her. ‘I’d do anything for you.’ He kissed her again.

Anything? She wanted to be unchained, she wanted to be set free, she wanted to go home and she wanted to be out of pain. She whimpered as she turned away and faced the wall. He rested next to her.

‘I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. Love is a funny thing, makes a person happy. Happiness is everything, isn’t it?’ he whispered in her ear.

She moved her hand to her lower stomach and tried to squeeze the pain away, but it made it worse. She bit her bottom lip in a poor attempt to force her sobs back.

‘Are you happy?’

Debbie swallowed the mucus in her throat. ‘I’m happy,’ she replied.

‘Do you love me?’

‘I love you.’

‘How much do you love me?’

‘I love you a lot.’

He sat up and inhaled. ‘But I need to hear how much. If you don’t tell me, how will I know?’

‘I love you more than the earth, the skies and the planets,’ she replied. That was his preferred response, the one that had helped her in the past.

‘Good.’ He lay back down. ‘I need to be reassured. Things are hard at the moment, with the baby and all. It’s hard for you, too, but you have no idea how bad it is for me. You only have yourself to think about all day. I have Mother and she’s getting worse.’

‘I’m sorry about your mother. Maybe I can help you look after her?’ She hoped that he’d take her up on the offer, but he hadn’t ever taken her up on any of her offers to date.

‘No, you’re a princess and you shouldn’t have to work hard. I will do everything and look after you too. It’s my job, my destiny, my one passion in life.’

‘But I’d like to help.’

‘I said no.’ He reached over and squeezed her throat then let go. As she coughed and wheezed, he sucked air in through his teeth and clenched his fist.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Debbie. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Okay,’ he replied. ‘Don’t ask again.’

She faced into the pillow with him lying behind her. She moved her ankle and heard the chain rattle on the floor. There was no way out. She’d tried to talk herself out in every way possible, she’d tried to run and she’d tried violence. Nothing she’d tried had worked out. Deep down, she knew there was no escape. But she also knew that by day he had a job and a normal life where he interacted with people who knew her. They had no idea what lay behind the mask he wore every day. Her only dream was that he’d one day take off that mask and reveal his true self to just one person who would help her.

He squeezed her from behind and kissed her neck. ‘I have to tend to Mother now. The old dear always seems to be searching for bread as soon as the sun comes up. I haven’t got long until I have to make the breakfast. Honey with your toast?’ She nodded. Refusal wasn’t an option. She let out a long breath as he loosened his embrace. He left, locking the door behind him, and she listened until his footsteps disappeared. The dog barked as he reached the house.

Darkness and solitude were her greatest fears and enemies, but at times like this, they were also her friends. She was now alone to dream.

She thought back to when she’d held her little one after giving birth. It had been only three days ago, but the image of her baby’s perfect little face was beginning to fade. The only thing that had any substance in her mind was the birthmark on her leg. Her baby’s memory had been reduced to a birthmark.

She cried as she tried to recall Isobel’s exact features. The images weren’t coming to her. Was that it? Was that the end? Her stomach clenched as she turned and sat up. The burning heat had spread from her perineum to surrounding areas. She smelled her hands. A sweaty, oily scent assaulted her nostrils. She wiped them in her tears, then on the bottom of the quilt. She wanted to be clean, she wanted to rid his smell from her body and she wanted to go home.

But where was home? Luke had replaced her. She had no home; she had nothing. She needed her mother. She stared into the darkness. ‘I miss you, Mum.’