Chapter 11 Chapter Eleven "Men Farming and Women Weaving"

I must say, doctor, that I feel myself to be doing quite well these days.Yesterday afternoon, after all I wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep, I ended up taking Emma by the leash and taking her for a walk along the beach.We usually go to the woods because I don't want to see other people, but yesterday, we changed our route. We dealt with the outside world a bit.Emma, ​​she always likes dogs that are smaller than herself, and when she encounters them, she will stop and hug and kiss them.It either grins its teeth or ignores a big dog, but it will be delighted if you give it a puppy.When I go for a walk, I try to avoid any contact with other people, I always keep my eyes on the distance, either at the dog or at my feet, pulling on Emma's leash to hurry her up, but yesterday , which insisted on an exchange of affection with a small cocker spaniel, I had to stop and chat with the dog's owner, an elderly couple.It's all common dog topics: What's your dog's name?Called wood?How old... But, doc, you know, a few weeks ago I would rather have pushed them overboard than had a word with them.

When I first came back, I lived at my mother's house for a while because my house had been rented out.I was so relieved to find out they hadn't sold my house - apparently that was another lie the freak had told me.Fortunately, before I was kidnapped, because I was worried about the mortgage, I just deposited a large bonus into a separate account, enough to pay off the mortgage for a year.The mortgage company kept deducting the loan repayment month after month, and I figured if the bank account ran out of money, they might seize my house. I asked my mother where are my things?She said, "It's all sold, Annie. Otherwise you think we'd have the money to find you? Everyone's donations have been used to pay the bounty for you. The rental money is all gone." She didn't Just kidding - they do sell everything.I figured my fur coat might be some chick's bed by now.

My car was also rented out, and after I was kidnapped, the police inspected my car and took it directly to the rental car company.Now, before I figure out what I want to do, I'm driving this crappy car - it doesn't matter if it's good or not. I have a lot of savings, but I am under pressure to repay the loan, so I don't have much left.The salary was not paid until after I was kidnapped, and the office sent a check to my mother.At that time, she was going to cash them all and increase the amount of my reward, but the bank would not allow it, so she deposited the money from the check into my account.It's a good thing, otherwise I'd have to spend my whole life scrimping.

A few days ago, I was sitting on the sofa with my arms around Emma when the phone rang.I don't want to talk to anyone but I look at the number and it's my mom calling and I know if I don't answer she will keep calling. "How is our Annie Bear today?" "It's fine." I wanted to tell her that I was tired and that the night before, the fifth day in a row, I slept in my own bed, but a tree branch kept knocking on my window, so I had to hide again. In the closet, I don't know if I can find my sense of security. "Listen, I have good news for you—Wayne has a brilliant business idea. I can't tell you the details until it's finalized, but he's going to do something big."

I thought they'd finally figure out that the guy wasn't the type to do business at all.Sometimes I feel sorry for Wayne.He's not a bad guy, he's not even stupid, he's the kind of guy who really wants to do something big, but instead of slamming on the gas and driving the car forward, he's always looking for the fastest way to get there. Shortcuts, but in the end they just circle around in place. When I was young, several times he went to recommend new investment plans to others, and he brought me with him.I was embarrassed for him - he stood in front of those people and babbled, and when the audience obviously lost interest, he talked even louder.For several days after that, he would happily walk around the house, checking the phone hundreds of times a day for messages. In the evening, he would drink with his mother and celebrate for himself.But after that, there was no more text.

Occasionally, he does things that make me think he's not a total loser.For example, when I was fifteen, I was dying to go to a concert, and I spent the weekend picking up bottles in town.When it came time to buy tickets on Monday, I put together all the bottles and sold them, but it was nowhere near the amount I needed.I shut myself in my room and cried.When I finally came out of the room, I found an envelope under the door with Wayne's handwriting on it, and it contained tickets to the concert.When I went to thank him, he blushed and said, "Don't take it to heart." Once I started making money in real estate, I tried to help them as much as I could—helping them buy new car tires, a new computer, a new refrigerator, and even directly giving them money to pay their bills and buy groceries.In the beginning, I felt good about helping them.Later, I realized that it was like throwing money into a bottomless pit—one that leads directly to the next stupid business plan.After I bought my own house, I didn't have any money left to help them, so I sat down with them and told them that they could also set up their own savings account.At that time, my mother stared at me as if I was speaking a foreign language.They got on with their days, and they didn't know how. Anyway, their way of life didn't change much.

The mother on the other end of the phone noticed that I was not interested, and interrupted my train of thought: "Why don't you talk?" "I'm sorry, but I hope he succeeds this time." "I feel good about this one." "That's what you said last time." She was silent for a while, then said: "I really don't like your passivity, Annie. He did so much for you when you disappeared—we all did so much for you, at least, you can He's showing a little more concern." "I'm sorry. I'm just not in a good mood right now."

"Maybe you should go out and go instead of cleaning the house all day and you'll feel a lot better." "How is it possible. Every time I go out, there are always reporters chasing me, not to mention those Hollywood agents, all of whom want to make a movie about my experience." "They do it for a living too, Anne. If it weren't for these journalists you hate paying you to do interviews, how would you support yourself now? Right?" What my mother said made me feel that I was the big villain.In particular, she's right when she says it all - I'm running out of savings and these nasty people are paying my living expenses.But I still can't get used to the process, or seeing my face in magazines and on TV screens.Mom cut out every interview I had from the newspaper and pasted them in a big book—she finally had a chance to make me a growing up scrapbook.She also taped every one of my TV talk shows.She brought me the videotapes and I watched only two and stuffed the others in a drawer.

"Your talk show is almost done, Annie. How are you going to make money next? How are you going to pay your mortgage?" "I'll figure it out." "any solution?" "There will be a way, Mom, I will find a way." What should I do?I feel like my internal organs are all mixed together. "You know what, it might be a good idea to talk to a movie agent. They might give you some advance money." "You mean they want to make some money themselves first. I talked to an agent and he wanted to sign me to a contract where I would transfer all the rights - if I listened to him, those filmmakers could do whatever they wanted , I can shoot whatever I want.”

"Then go talk to the producer yourself." "I don't want to talk to any producers, Mom. Why don't you get it?" "God, Annie, I just asked you a simple question, there's no need to be so fierce to me, right?" "Sorry." I took a deep breath. "Maybe I should go out more. Let's talk about something else, or I'm really going to lose my temper." I forced a smile. "How is your garden doing?" Two of Mom's favorite things to talk about - gardening and cooking.Also the two things she spends the most time and energy on, it's much easier for mom to care about food and plants than me.

When I was little, I remember being jealous of her roses--the way she talked about them, the way she touched them, she looked at them all day long, if Which potted flower won an award at the flower market made her even more proud.I have a sister who often wins prizes and I am already very depressed, let alone a cousin who is better than me in everything. Now, do I have to compete with a bunch of roses?Sometimes, I think, maybe it's because as long as she follows the recipe or the planting method, she can get the results she wants, but life is often not like that, especially when it comes to raising children. She also tried to teach me how to cook, which I would love to learn, but I really lack cooking skills, I am always clumsy.Before I was kidnapped, I couldn't even raise a pot of spider plants.However, at the time of the abduction, everything changed, and in mid-April, when spring came, the pervert began to allow me to go outside and plant something in the garden next to the house. The first time I went out, I was seven months pregnant, and the beauty of the spring sun made me feel like my eyes were going to explode.I took my first breath of clean mountain air—I smelled cedar trees in the sun, wildflowers, and mossy dirt beneath my feet—and before that, the only smells I could smell were firewood and walls.I wanted to lie down and bury my face in that mossy mud.I can't wait to swallow them in my stomach. If we were up north or not on Vancouver Island, I think it would still be snowing, but here it's pretty warm and everything is lush green in every shade of green you can imagine - gray Green, emerald, light green, dark green, even the air smells green.I thought, I might be close to home, and I don't know if that's more comforting or sadder. The first time I came out, he didn't allow me to go too far from the cabin, but he couldn't stop my eyes.The surrounding woods were so dense that I couldn't see any mountains in the distance.The clearing was covered with moss, and there were a few patches of grass, mostly moss and rocks.It must be very difficult to dig a sewer on this mountain, let alone dig a well. I guess, we may get water from the river.I saw some stumps on the edge of the bush, which must have been felled by someone before.I didn't see the road, the exit should be nearby. There is a river on the right side of the hut, the river flows down the mountain, and there is a vegetable garden beside the river.The river water is like jade, showing beautiful colors. In some places, the water flow is very slow, and the color of the water has also turned dark green, close to black. I guess it should be a deep whirlpool. From the outside, the cottage is lovely, with shuttered windows and soil troughs for growing flowers under the window sills.On the balcony in front of the house are two rocking chairs side by side.Perhaps a husband and wife built the cottage together many years ago.I imagined the wife who likes to grow grass and flowers, and she found so much soil to open up a vegetable garden.I wondered how she would feel if she knew who was living in the cottage now. I started having labor pains while growing vegetables.Before, he had allowed me to go out—under his supervision, of course.I water and weed the veggies in the garden and they all look good and I would love to work in the garden all day.I don't mind at all when he thinks I haven't done something well and asks me to do it all over again, because it means I can stay out of the house a little longer.He made me wear gloves, saying it was to protect my perfect and beautiful fingernails, but even wearing gloves, I can feel the coldness of the soil, and the natural smell of freshly turned soil, which is definitely better than being with him locked in the house. The little seeds I planted slowly grew into carrots, tomatoes, beans, etc. I found it amazing that in my stomach, my own seeds were also growing slowly.Strictly speaking, part of this seed is also his, but I don't let myself think about it.I've gotten better at controlling my thoughts. The only thing I can't forget are those simple, loving hugs.I never knew how much they meant to me, but now that I don't have Emma to cuddle, Luke to cuddle, or even the occasional hug from Mom, I do.For my mother, expressing love is often a kind of compensation after the fact, or a reward, which always makes me feel manipulated by her, and at the same time angry with myself, why do I want her so much It's warm. Only when I was sick, my mother would go out of her way to care for me, she would take me to different doctors and pharmacists, and describe every symptom of me to them, and those details sometimes made me feel sick. Embarrassed, she put her arm around my shoulders and touched my forehead with her little hand.I don't say anything, I like that feeling very much.She would even sleep with me when I was sick, and to this day, whenever I smell the peppermint ointment, I think of her warmth lying next to me, which is reassuring. Every time that pervert walked past me, he would give me a hug, pat my stomach, or touch my back. Every night, he would put his arms around me and fall asleep.At first, the physical contact with him made me sick, but as the months went by, I became more and more indifferent, sometimes, I even gave him a hug without feeling anything.Sometimes, I want so much warmth that I find myself closing my eyes tightly, cuddling in his arms, pretending it's someone I love, and then hating myself for doing so. I don't know why his smell is so fresh while his heart is so evil.Sometimes, I can smell the fresh fragrance of washing powder on his clothes - the washing powder we use is naturally biodegradable; I can still smell the faint smell on his hands and body a few minutes after taking a shower. The soapy smell, but it's gone soon.Even after he came back from outside, I couldn't smell any outside smell on him--clean air, grass, asphalt, pine needles, nothing at all, let alone sweat.It was as if the smells didn't even want to touch him. I have to bucket water from the river to water my vegetables every day, which I don't mind at all, because it means another chance for me to dip my hands in the cool water and wash myself.It was almost mid-June, and I thought I was nine months pregnant, and my belly was already big. Sometimes, I wondered if I had passed the due date, but I didn’t know the exact time when I was pregnant. So it is also difficult to calculate.That day, I walked up the mountain with a big bucket of water and started watering the vegetables. The weather outside was very hot, and I had been working, and sweat dripped into my eyes.I put down the bucket and take a rest. Just as I was pressing my back with one hand, I suddenly felt a cramping pain in my abdomen.At first, I ignored it and lifted the bucket again.There was another cramping, this time more severe.I knew that if I didn't complete my task, he would be furious, so I took a deep breath and watered the rest of the vegetable field. After I finished watering, I found him. He was repairing a floor on the balcony. I said to him: "It's time." He checked the vegetable garden and saw that I had finished watering the vegetable field, so he walked in with me. Room.As soon as I walked into the room, I felt a surge in my body, a strange feeling that something was about to come out, and then a warm liquid flowed down my legs and onto the floor. The freak had read all the books on pregnancy and childbirth with me, so he knew what was going to happen, but he looked so panicked, standing in the doorway of the cabin, motionless.I stood in a puddle of amniotic fluid, with something still dripping from my leg, waiting for him to recover.He was getting paler, and I realized that I might have to wait a while longer.Although I was terrified of death, I had to calm him down.I need his help. "It's normal...it's supposed to happen...it's going to be fine." He started walking up and down, going into the cabin, going out, and coming in again.I have to keep him focused. "Can I take a bath?" The cramping would be relieved by a bath, and I figured I'd still have time—the intervals between contractions weren't that frequent.He stopped and stared at me with wide eyes. "Is it okay? I think a bubble bath might make me feel better." Still without saying a word, he rushed to the bathroom and turned on the tap for me.I feel that, at this point, he will probably agree with anything I say. "The water should not be too hot. I don't know if it's good for the child." After the bathtub was full, I dragged my huge body into the hot water. That pervert was leaning against the sink in the bathroom, his eyes wandering around, but he didn't dare to look at me.His hands clenched and loosened from time to time, as if desperately grabbing the air.The control freak just stood there shaking like a guy on a first date without saying a word. I said calmly, "I need you to take the sheets off the bed and put some towels on the bed, okay?" He ran out of the bathroom, and then I heard him walking back and forth by the bed.I tried to recall all kinds of knowledge about production that I had read in books to calm myself down.I focused on my breathing and tried not to think that I was about to give birth to my own baby in a cabin with no one around to help me except a panicked psycho.The drops of water on the edge of the tub became the focus of my attention as I counted the seconds it would take for them to drip off the edge of the tub.When the water was only a little bit hot and almost turned into cold water, my contractions also accelerated significantly, so I called him—he had been hiding in the room outside. With his help, I got out of the tub and dried myself off.At this time, the contractions were very frequent and painful, and I had to lean on him so as not to fall.As we walked back into the room, I staggered in a sharp pain and grabbed his arm.It was cold in the cabin and I got goosebumps. "I can climb into bed myself, will you go and light the fire?" I lay down on the bed with a pillow behind my shoulders and I don't remember much of anything except the pain and pain - a lot of women choose to have anesthesia when they give birth, believe me, if I had If you choose, I will definitely choose anesthesia.The psycho was like a panicked husband in a sitcom, walking back and forth, rubbing his hands tightly, covering his ears every time I screamed, and I screamed so frequently.I was tossing and turning in pain on the bed, biting the pillow, while he hid in a corner of the room, burying his head between his knees.For a while, he even left the cabin, but I started yelling "help" and he came back. It is written in all the books that when you feel that the child is about to come out, you must exert yourself. I feel that every cell in my body is telling me to exert myself.I leaned my back against the wall, feeling the sawdust on the wall go into my back.I put my hands on my knees, spread my legs, gritted my teeth, and pushed hard.When I was able to catch my breath a little, I gave him various orders.The more I took control, the calmer he seemed - but I'm exaggerating a bit here when I say I'm in control, I was sweating profusely, screaming at hard intervals Called out every request. The production was a blur, I remember it should have lasted a few hours - lucky for a first time baby, this was also when I was locked up on the mountain, one of the few worthwhile One of the happy things.I still remember when I had him stand between my legs and help pick the baby out, he was pale and sweaty, I don't know why he was sweating, all the work I am doing.But I didn't care about his feelings at the time, nor my own feelings-I just wanted to give birth to this little thing quickly. When the baby finally came out, it hurt like hell, but it felt so good.Sweat dripped into my eyes, and in a blur, I saw the pervert holding the baby up in the air, far away from me, like a pile of rags from my period.Hell, he didn't know what to do next.And the child hasn't cried yet. "You have to wipe the baby's face clean and put the baby in my arms." I close my eyes and tilt my head to one side. A faint whimper gradually turned into a loud cry, and I opened my eyes.God, what an amazing sound that is.It was the first time in ten months that I heard the voice of a living thing other than him, and I began to cry too.I raised my arm and he immediately handed the baby to me, seemingly relieved to have finally shrugged off a responsibility. a girl.It never occurred to me to ask him about that.A slimy, wet, wrinkled, bloody girl, but the most beautiful little person I've ever seen. "Hi, darling, welcome to this world," I said, "I love you!" I whispered to her small forehead, and kissed her softly. I raised my eyes and he was staring at both of us.He no longer looked scared, but angry.Then he turned around and left the hut. As soon as he left, my placenta fell out.I tried to sit up and move away from the wet pile, but I was already against the wall and there was no way I could go back, and if I moved to the side, every movement hurt me again.So, I just lay there exhausted, I was all slimy and the baby was on my belly.I still have to cut the umbilical cord.If he doesn't come back soon, I'll have to bite off the umbilical cord with my mouth. By the time I waited for him to come back, I had gone over my daughter from head to toe, counting all the fingers and toes.She was so small, so delicate, and her hair was impossibly soft, smooth as satin, and, like mine, black.She would cry a little from time to time, and when I gently touched her little face with my hand, she would calm down. After about five minutes, he came back and walked towards me, and I was happy to see that he wasn't angry anymore, just aloof.Then, I looked away from his face and saw that he actually had a knife in his hand. The indifference on his face turned to terror when he saw the placenta between my legs. "I have to cut the umbilical cord," I said.He stood motionless. I slowly reached out my free hand, and he slowly handed me the knife. I adjusted the baby's position, pulled a piece of cloth from the sheet, and wrapped it around the umbilical cord.When I cut the umbilical cord, she cried softly a few times, and the pervert seemed to wake up from a trance suddenly.He immediately reached out and grabbed my wrist. I let go and the knife fell on the bed. "I'm about to give it back to you!" He picked up the knife and leaned over me.I hugged the child tightly and shrunk to the head of the bed as much as possible.He stopped.I stopped too.We looked at each other, and he slowly wiped the knife clean with the corner of the towel, then lifted it up, nodded, and walked into the kitchen. He turned me over and spread a clean sheet on the bed.While he cleared away the various medical supplies, I tried to stuff my own nipple into the baby's mouth, but she just wouldn't suck.I tried again, still the same.Tears welled up in my eyes, and I swallowed hard.I remembered that the book also said that this may take a process, so I tried again.This time, when I put my nipple into her mouth, a little watery yellow liquid flowed out.Her little red mouth opened and she was finally sucking. With a sigh of relief, I looked up just in time to see the pervert walking towards me with a glass of water and a baby blanket.He stared at what was in his hands, not me, and put the glass on the table by the bed.When he turned his gaze back, he was staring straight at the baby sucking on my nipple.He blushed and quickly turned his eyes away.Staring at the wall, he threw the blanket at me and said, "Cover yourself." I threw the blanket over my shoulders and over the baby, who was making a loud click. He took a few steps back, turned around, and walked into the bathroom.Soon, I heard the sound of water running from the shower head.He washed for a long time. When he came back, it was very quiet.He stood at the foot of the bed and stared at me for a few minutes.I had learned not to make eye contact with him when he was a little emotional, so I pretended to be dozing off and peeked at him through the slits in my eyes.I've seen him throw a tantrum, he's trying to hurt me, and he's completely dazed, but this time it's different, he has a thoughtful look on his face. I hugged my daughter tightly.