The Secret Diary of Belle (Grimmoire Series)

Entry Nine

I believe I heard something else last night... something so unnerving, it made my blood run cold, but I cannot be sure...

Last night was the longest and most harrowing of my incarceration thus far. Worse than my first night of abduction.

The wretched wailing and chain-clunking has unravelled me completely. No amount of pillows could muffle the din.

My nerves are in tatters.

The quietness this new day brings, should make me swell with relief, but on the contrary, I am stricken with a curious anxiety.

The tray of food has not been replaced. It remains, along with the discarded efforts of eating more than my fill yesterday. The bread has succumbed to rigour mortis. I soaked it in some water, to make it moderately edible once again. Thankfully, the cheese remains palatable. The fruit, of course, fine, so I shall not perish... yet.

I now realise that I took comfort in the daily routine - the refreshed food, fresh sheets, fresh water for my daily sponge and in particular, an empty commode - I'm beginning to miss that the most...

After the hysteria of last night, I must say, I am confounded by this silence. Has my abductor murdered his new victim? That is almost too gruesome a thought to entertain.

As much as I wish to dismiss it, a terrible happening occurred here last night. What exactly, I do not know, but I am beginning to wonder if it was a calculated undertaking by my captor.

Was this why I was given such a large amount of food yesterday? Was that his way of telling me that something was about to happen?

For the first time since being here, I actually feel completely alone. I think my captor has gone. The house feels, for the lack of a better word, dead.

I do not know if he is coming back. And if I have been abandoned, I have no idea how I am ever going to get out of here.

It is at this moment that I suddenly see myself as a caged bird.


That does it, as soon as I am finished this entry, I shall open the curtains. I do not know why I haven't opened them prior to this. I almost feel rebellious in doing so.

Alas, the deafening silence remains, along with a lingering memory of something that happened last night. Something I have yet to write about.

But I must tell you. Last night, amongst the screams, while I had my ears covered with pillows, I heard the tortured man calling out. And while I have been telling myself that my hearing was muffled, I am simply denying the truth of the situation.

It was a voice I did not recognise, calling out one word and word only -

"Belle"

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