My Boyfriend Let His Parents Kidnap Me for My Own Pregnancy

Over the next few days, I kept eating the meals and acting calmer. I stopped yelling when they came in.

I answered their questions about how I was feeling. His mother started smiling more and talking to me like we were friends.

She told me that acceptance was the first step toward a healthy pregnancy. She said once I stopped fighting reality, I would see they were only trying to help.

I nodded and pretended to agree while my mind was working on what to do next. Dr. Wallace came back for another examination a week after the first one.

This time I didn’t fight or scream when his father came down with him. I lay on the bed calmly and let the doctor do his work.

I asked questions about the baby’s development and what the measurements meant. Dr. Wallace seemed relieved by my cooperation and actually answered some of my questions.

He spent less time restraining me and more time explaining what he was seeing on the ultrasound. I watched carefully how he entered and exited the room.

His father unlocked the door from outside and held it open while the doctor came down the stairs. The doctor always set his medical bag down near the door while he set up his equipment on the table.

His father stood by the door the whole time watching. After the exam, the doctor packed up his equipment and picked up his bag and left first while his father locked the door behind them both.

The routine was consistent and predictable. During that examination, I noticed something I hadn’t seen before.

When Dr. Wallace set his medical bag down by the door, his phone was sticking out of the side pocket. It was a newer smartphone with a black case and I could see the edge of it clearly from where I sat on the bed.

The doctor never used it during the exam and didn’t seem to check it. He just left it in his bag the whole time he was working.

If I could get to that bag for even 30 seconds, I could call for help. But his father was always standing right there by the door watching everything.

I would need a distraction or a reason for both of them to look away at the same time. I kept acting cooperative and compliant while I thought about how to make that happen.

The next morning, I waited for his mother to bring breakfast. When I heard her footsteps on the stairs, I got into position.

I doubled over on the bed and started moaning loud enough for her to hear through the door. The lock clicked and she came in carrying the tray like always but stopped when she saw me curled up and clutching my stomach.

I made myself cry and grabbed at my lower abdomen like something was really wrong. She set the tray down fast and came closer.

But she didn’t look scared like I hoped she would. Her face was concerned but calm and controlled.

I begged her to please call an ambulance because something felt terrible with the baby and the pain was getting worse. I made my voice sound panicked and desperate while I rocked back and forth on the bed.

She pulled out her cell phone. But instead of dialing emergency services, she called someone else.

I could hear the phone ringing on speaker, and then Dr. Wallace answered. His mother described my symptoms in this detached medical way while she stayed between me and the door the whole time.

She told him I was having lower abdominal cramping and appeared distressed and asked if he could come examine me right away. He said he would be there in 20 minutes and she hung up.

I kept up the act and kept crying that we needed to go to the hospital now because what if something was really wrong. She just patted my shoulder and said the doctor would be here soon and there was no need to panic.

Those 20 minutes felt like forever while I stayed curled up pretending to be in pain. When Dr. Wallace finally arrived, his father came down with him like before.

The doctor examined me thoroughly with his equipment and checked the baby’s heartbeat and pressed on my stomach in different places. After about 15 minutes, he stood up and told his mother that everything looked normal.

He said the baby’s heartbeat was strong and steady. He said I was probably just experiencing regular pregnancy discomfort combined with stress and anxiety.

His mother thanked him and walked him back upstairs while his father stayed behind. He stared at me with this knowing look.

After they left, his father came closer to the bed. He told me that was a stupid thing to try.

” “Now they knew I was still looking for ways to escape.” ” He said.

He went back upstairs without another word and locked the door. The next day, his father came down with tools and a ladder.

He spent over an hour installing a second camera in the corner opposite from the first one. I watched him work and realized he was covering the blind spot I had found near the bathroom door.

When he finished, he tested both cameras from different angles and seemed satisfied. Now they could see every single corner of the room.

There was nowhere I could hide anything or do anything without being watched. I felt the last bit of privacy I had disappeared completely.

Isolation and the Metal Food Slot

After he left, I looked around the room and understood that any plan I tried to make would be visible to them through those cameras. I started trying to keep track of how long I had been here by counting the meals they brought.

I watched the light that came through the small window. The light changed throughout the day so I could tell morning from afternoon from evening.

I counted three meals as one day and tried to keep the numbers straight in my head since I had no way to write anything down. By my count, I had been locked in this basement for almost two weeks.

Nobody from my job had come looking for me. Nobody from my apartment building had reported me missing.

His parents had covered their tracks too well and made it look like I had just taken leave and gone somewhere voluntarily. The reality of how trapped I was started to sink in deeper.

I thought about my co-workers and wondered if they believed whatever story his parents had told them. I thought about my landlord and my neighbors and whether any of them had noticed I was gone.

My boyfriend came down a few days later, and this time I didn’t yell at him or bang on the door. I sat on the bed calmly and asked him quietly how he could do this to someone he said he loved.

He looked surprised by my calm tone. After a minute, he sat down on the floor outside the open door.

He said his parents did the same thing to Marilyn when she was pregnant with his niece. He said now she has a beautiful healthy daughter and a happy family.

He said it seemed extreme at first, but his parents really did know what they were doing and Marilyn understood that eventually. I asked him if he really believed that or if he was just telling himself that to feel better.

He didn’t answer and just stared at the floor. Then I asked him what happened to the other women his family imprisoned before Marilyn.

I told him those tally marks on the wall went back way further than just one pregnancy. His face went completely pale and he stood up fast.

He said I was confused and stressed and there was only Marilyn and nobody else. He turned to leave, and I reminded him he was supposed to bring dinner.

He just walked up the stairs without the tray and locked the door behind him. I had seen his reaction, though, and I knew there had been others before Marilyn.

The question was what happened to them and why nobody ever found out about this family’s pattern. That night I heard raised voices coming from upstairs.

His parents and my boyfriend were fighting about something and their voices carried down through the vents. I pressed my ear against the wall near the small window and tried to make out what they were saying.

I caught phrases like: ” “She’s asking too many questions and we should have waited longer like last time and you need to stop talking to her so much.” ” The arguing went on for over an hour and got louder at some points.

I heard his mother crying at one point and his father’s voice getting angry and stern. My boyfriend’s voice sounded defensive and scared.

Eventually the house went quiet, but I couldn’t sleep because my mind was racing with what I had heard. They had done this before and something had gone wrong last time.

Now they were worried I was figuring things out too fast. The next morning, his mother came down and everything about her was different.

She wasn’t smiling or cheerful or acting like we were friends. Her face was business-like and cold.

She set the breakfast tray down and told me they had made some decisions about my care going forward. She said they decided to limit my interactions with the family because I was getting too emotional.

” “You are asking inappropriate questions that are causing unnecessary stress.” ” She said.

” “From now on, Dr. Wallace would handle all my medical care and daily check-ins, and my meals would be delivered through a slot they were installing in the door.” ” She added.

She said this was for my own good and would help me stay calmer and more focused on the baby’s health. I started to argue, but she held up her hand.

” “The decision is final.” ” She said.

She picked up the empty tray from yesterday and left without saying anything else. Workers showed up that same afternoon.

I could hear them in the stairwell with power tools. His father came down first and stood in the doorway watching me while two men carried equipment down the stairs.

They started cutting into the door and installing some kind of metal slot mechanism near the bottom. I tried to talk to them and asked them to please help me.

I told them I was being held here against my will. They didn’t react at all and just kept working like I wasn’t even speaking.

His father stood right there the whole time supervising. The workers never looked at me or acknowledged anything I said.

They finished the installation in about 30 minutes and tested the slot to make sure trays could slide through. Then they packed up their tools and left.

His father examined their work and seemed satisfied. Before he went back upstairs, he told me the slot would open from the outside only.

” “You shouldn’t bother trying to mess with it.” ” He said.

After he locked the door, I went over and looked at the new slot. It was just big enough for a food tray to fit through and had a metal cover on the outside that they could open and close.

I realized the workers had probably done this exact installation before in this same room for whoever was here before me. The new routine started immediately.

I only saw Dr. Wallace now when he came for weekly examinations, and his father always supervised those visits. Three times a day the slot would open and a tray would slide through with my meals.

I never saw who delivered them or heard any voices. The slot would close as soon as I took the tray and open again later when I put the empty tray back.

The isolation was so much worse than when they used to come in and argue with me. At least then I had human contact, even if it was with my captors.

Now I only had the cameras watching me silently and the meals appearing through the slot like I was an animal being fed in a cage. I started talking to myself just to hear a human voice in the room.

I would narrate what I was doing or have conversations with myself about what to try next. Sometimes I talked to the baby and told it I was sorry for bringing it into this situation.

I promised I would find a way to get us both out safely. The fourth week started and I had nothing left to do except watch Dr. Wallace during his visits.

He came every seven days like clockwork and always followed the same pattern. He set his medical bag on the floor next to the bed, always in the exact same spot about two feet from where I sat.

Then he turned his back to me while he prepared the ultrasound equipment. He arranged the gel and the wand and checked the monitor screen.

Those 30 seconds when his back was turned became my entire focus. I started timing it in my head, counting the seconds until he faced me again.

His phone stuck out of the side pocket of his bag, the black case visible against the brown leather. I could see the outline of it every time he set the bag down.

If I could grab it fast enough and hide it before he noticed, I might have time to make a call later when he left. The camera would see me do it, but maybe I could move fast enough that his father wouldn’t get down here in time to stop me.

I knew it was a long shot, but it was the only shot I had.