My Boyfriend Let His Parents Kidnap Me for My Own Pregnancy

His mother left quickly and locked the door. I heard her footsteps going upstairs faster than normal.

Over the next week, I learned more details about what was happening outside. His mother came down one morning and seemed chattier than usual, probably trying to convince herself everything was fine.

She mentioned that his parents told my job I had a family emergency and took sudden leave. They’d used my boyfriend to send emails from my account saying I needed time away and would be in touch when I could.

But apparently Kira wasn’t buying the story because she’d also contacted my apartment building asking about me. His mother laughed like this was ridiculous and said some people just couldn’t mind their own business.

She told me Kira had even called my emergency contacts trying to track me down. I asked who my emergency contacts were.

She said it was my aunt in another state and my old college roommate. Neither of them had seen me in months so they couldn’t tell Kira anything useful.

His mother seemed satisfied with this, but I noticed she kept checking her phone while she talked. She looked like she was expecting bad news.

That afternoon, his father went out, which was unusual because he normally stayed home to help watch me through the cameras. I heard his mother on the phone upstairs and her voice carried down through the small window.

She was talking to someone and using that friendly cheerful tone she’d used when I first arrived. She told whoever was on the phone that I was staying with family during a difficult pregnancy and just needed privacy right now.

She laughed at something they said and agreed that first pregnancies could be so overwhelming. She said I was getting excellent care and would reach out to people when I felt ready.

The conversation lasted maybe 10 minutes. The whole time she sounded so convincing and normal that I realized how good they were at maintaining appearances.

Nobody listening to that call would ever suspect she was lying or that I was locked in her basement against my will. During the next week, I noticed increased tension in the house even though I could only hear bits and pieces.

There was more arguing than usual, and I caught his mother and father having heated discussions that would suddenly stop when doors closed. His mother made frequent phone calls, and I could tell from her tone she was worried about something.

His father started leaving at odd hours and I’d hear the car starting in the middle of the night or early morning. Something was happening outside that had them concerned, and I spent hours trying to figure out what it could be.

The meals still came three times a day and Dr. Wallace still did his weekly visits, but everyone seemed distracted and on edge. Then one afternoon, I heard his parents in the kitchen directly above my room and they were arguing louder than they realized.

His father said something about Samuel. His mother’s voice got sharp asking what that nosy neighbor had done now.

His father told her that Samuel had apparently filed a missing person report after Kira contacted him asking if he’d seen me. My neighbor Samuel, who I barely knew beyond saying hello in the hallway, had noticed I was gone and cared enough to report it.

His mother was furious and said they needed to decide whether to move me somewhere else or if they could continue claiming I was staying voluntarily. His father argued that moving me now would be too risky and draw more attention.

They went back and forth about what story to tell if police came asking questions. His mother insisted they could handle it the same way they’d handled concerns about Marilyn years ago.

” “Nobody had suspected anything then and nobody would suspect anything now.” ” She said.

Two days later, I heard a car pull up outside and then a woman’s voice I didn’t recognize at the front door. She was asking questions about when they’d last seen me and whether I was currently staying with them.

His mother answered in that same friendly convincing tone she’d used on the phone. She said I’d visited briefly a few weeks ago but left to stay with other relatives.

The woman asked which relatives and where they lived. His mother gave specific names and a city four hours in the opposite direction from where I actually lived.

She sounded so calm and detailed that I knew this woman was probably believing every word. The woman asked a few more questions about my mental state and whether I’d seemed upset or unstable.

His mother said I’d been a little emotional, but that was normal for pregnancy hormones. The woman thanked her for her time and I heard the car pull away a few minutes later.

I realized this might be my only chance and I started screaming as loud as I could. I screamed that I was in the basement and I was being held against my will and someone needed to help me.

I screamed until my throat burned and my voice cracked, but the basement was soundproofed and the woman was already too far away. I heard footsteps running down the stairs and his father burst through the door.

He was holding duct tape and his face was red with anger. He crossed the room in three steps and slapped the tape over my mouth before I could move away.

He leaned in close and told me if I tried that again, they would sedate me for the remainder of the pregnancy. He said they had enough medication to keep me unconscious for months if necessary, and the baby would be fine.

” “But you’d wake up after the birth not remembering anything.” ” He said.

His hand was still on my face holding the tape down. I could smell his breath and see the veins in his neck.

He told me that detective wouldn’t be back because his mother had been very convincing and there was no evidence I was here. Then he turned and walked out, locking the door behind him and leaving me with the tape stuck to my mouth and tears running down my face.

I stayed quiet after that, my heart still racing from screaming and the tape still stuck over my mouth. The adhesive burned my skin and I could taste something chemical on my lips.

Hours passed and I heard them moving around upstairs—normal household sounds like they weren’t keeping someone prisoner in their basement. Eventually his mother came down and ripped the tape off without warning.

The pain made my eyes water, but I didn’t make a sound. She handed me a bottle of water and told me to drink it slowly because dehydration was bad for the baby.

I took the water because my throat hurt so much from screaming earlier. She watched me drink the whole thing before taking the empty bottle back and leaving without another word.

Two days went by with the same routine: meals through the slot three times a day, the camera watching everything I did, and no voices except the occasional footsteps overhead. Then on the third morning, I heard a car pull up outside and a woman’s voice at the front door again.

It was that detective from before. I could tell by the tone even though I couldn’t make out the words.

His mother answered and this time her voice sounded different—higher and faster than before. The detective was asking more questions and I heard her say something about the basement.

His mother said it was renovated and wasn’t safe to go down there. The detective kept pushing and his mother’s voice got more strained as she made excuses.

They went back and forth for several minutes before I heard the detective’s car door close and the engine start up. But something felt different this time.

The detective didn’t believe her. I sat on the floor after they left and realized this might be my last chance before they moved me somewhere else.

I needed to leave proof I was here in case someone did search the house. I went into the bathroom and got down on my knees behind the toilet where I’d found Marilyn’s message scratched into the wall.

My fingernails were already short, but I picked the longest one and started scratching into the painted concrete. The paint came off in tiny flakes and the concrete underneath was rough and hard.

I pressed down as hard as I could and dragged my nail across the surface. It hurt and my fingertips started bleeding, but I kept going.

I scratched my full name first, then the date as best as I could remember it. Then I added the words “help imprisoned and pregnant” in capital letters.

My fingernail cracked halfway through and the pain shot up my finger, but I switched to another nail and kept scratching. It took almost an hour to get all the words visible enough to read.

When I finished, my fingers were bleeding and shaking, but the message was there next to Marilyn’s old one. Two women marked on the same wall years apart.

That night I heard yelling upstairs louder than before. His parents were fighting, and I could make out some of the words through the ceiling.

His father’s voice was angry and his mother sounded like she was crying. I pressed my ear against the door and caught pieces of their argument.

His father said something about solving the problem permanently. His mother was saying she couldn’t do that again.

I heard my boyfriend’s voice join in, yelling that they promised no one would get hurt this time. The word “again” and “this time” stuck in my head.

There had been others before Marilyn—women who didn’t survive whatever this family did to them. My hands went cold and I backed away from the door.

The fighting continued for another hour before the house went quiet. The next morning, I heard the lock turning earlier than usual.

His mother came down the stairs and she looked different—her face tight and her movements quick. His father was right behind her and he was carrying something.

His mother had a syringe in her hand and she wouldn’t look at me directly. She said they were going to give me something to help me sleep and then move me to a different location where I would be safer.

Her voice was shaking as she talked. His father moved to block the door and I saw the syringe more clearly now.

It was big and full of clear liquid. I knew if they injected me with that and moved me somewhere else, no one would ever find me.

This wasn’t about keeping me safe; this was about making me disappear. I didn’t think or plan what happened next.

His father stepped toward me and I kicked him as hard as I could right in the knee. He went down with a yell and his mother lunged at me with the syringe.

I grabbed her wrist with both hands and bit down on her hand as hard as I could. She screamed and dropped the syringe and it hit the concrete floor and shattered.

Clear liquid spread across the ground and his father was getting back up. His mother was holding her bleeding hand and his father’s face was red with anger.

He came at me fast and backhanded me across the face. The force knocked me sideways and my head hit the metal bed frame.

Pain exploded through my skull and everything went blurry for a second. I tasted blood in my mouth and my vision was spotty, but I stayed conscious through the ringing in my ears.

I heard new sounds upstairs: car doors slamming, multiple voices, someone knocking hard on the front door. His father froze and his mother’s eyes went wide.

A woman’s voice called out that this was the police and they had a warrant to search the property. It was the detective.

She had come back. His parents looked at each other and his father ran for the stairs.

His mother was trying to clean up the broken syringe with shaking hands. She kept looking at the blood running down my face from where I hit the bed frame.

She grabbed my shoulders and her voice was desperate now. She told me I had to say I came here willingly.

” “Say we were just helping you through a difficult pregnancy. Say that everything was fine.” ” She begged.

Upstairs I could hear the detective demanding to see the basement. His father’s voice was loud saying the warrant didn’t cover that area.

There was a commotion and something crashed. Then I heard footsteps on the basement stairs, multiple people coming down fast.

His mother was still trying to wipe up the blood on the floor with her sleeve. The lock turned and the door swung open.

Detective Herrera stood in the doorway with two other officers behind her. She looked at the room and took in everything in one sweep.