August 5th

I've noticed a difference about Him.

All of our spirits are getting lower, but not His. As days go by, He gets happier and happier. Out of nowhere, He asked Michael to go on a hunting trip. We all knew The Man scavenged for food, but we were unaware He actually hunted, since most of the meals come to us in gruel form.

What else could Michael do but go, so go he did. Hours later when they got back, Michael was whiter than a nun's bed sheet. He didn't want to talk about what happened, even though it was clear he had seen things.

Gabriella, Louise, and Marc crowded him, lodging question after question.

"What did you see?"

"Where did he take you?"

"What did you do?"

His wife only had one question for him:

"Why didn't you try to escape?"

He looked overwhelmed. I could see all he wanted to do was fall out on his bedroll and sleep. Sleep to forget. I did it all the time, so I knew the signs.

"It would've been pointless." He put his hands out as if to say, that's all I got.

All he had wasn't enough for Louise.

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"We weren't exactly hunting deer." He let out a weird little hiccup, caught his breath, and continued, "But I'll tell you this, that bastard is so jolly lately because now he's not the only monster running around."

****

August 9th

I feel odd writing about today's little highlights, but I might was well put it down like I have everything else.

Louise and The Man were in the kill room earlier; nothin' special about that. Their grunts and cries ceased, and Louise came out. Excuse me: she got kicked out. Literally. The Man booted her out with His foot up her ass (sorry again, Mom.).

While Louise tripped over herself, He ranted and hollered. It was hard to hear Him above Louise's cries. The Man hadn't even allowed her to get dressed. Michael took his blanket and rushed to cover her. She sported a bloody lip, scratches on her back, and a few bruises on her face.

"Bitch." He zipped up His pants. "My name is Peter, not Ryan. Fucking puta."

Michael's concerned expressed faded into something else, especially when Louise didn't deny His accusations. She shivered under the army blanket.

The Man was on His way upstairs, but He wasn't finished. Before He left us, He brushed past Michael, speaking in a loud stage-whisper, "Tell your whore wife when I want her to moan my name, I want to hear my goddamn name, not some jerk-off she let come inside her way back when." He paused. "Say, you're name's not Ryan, is it?"

As He walked up the stairs, He snapped his fingers as if remembering something.

"Michael! That's it. Your name is Michael."

The Man's laugh echoed as He slammed the basement door, sliding the bolt home.

* * * *

August 11th

Well, shoot.

When you're trapped in a basement with strangers, dirty laundry is bound to air itself.

For Michael and Louise, whole steaming heaps of their unmentionables have been flung around.

Ever since Louise's Peter/Ryan mix-up, Michael's been treating his wife differently. There's not a whole lot of love in his actions either.

They hide in the bathroom during their blow-outs, but everyone can hear. I try not to listen, but with all the yelling and eff words, it's hard not to. Ever the Nosey-Nancy, Erin perks up her ears anytime the couple takes their fights to the loo. Ha-ha, loo.

Anyway, this afternoon, Michael and Louise broadcasted a major loo-fight. Plenty of yelling going back and forth, so I'll skip to the important parts. The sad parts, really.

I heard Louise say, "I'm sorry. Please, don't."

Michael: "God, I knew. I knew."

Louise: "I was lonely. That's no excuse, but you were always working so late."

"Yeah, but Ryan? My best friend?"

Crying, and then, "I'm sorry. Please. After everything, don't turn away from me. All we have is each other. Please."

Michael scoffed. Or coughed. Not sure. "All you have is yourself." He stormed out of the bathroom.

Louise stayed in there for a couple of hours, until Erin knocked to ask if she was all right.

When the door opened, Louise tried to down-play her puffy cry-eyes by smiling at us, but we all knew.

* * * *

September 2nd

Don't feel neglected, 'o journal of mine. I know it's been a few weeks since I've written anything. Life feels gray. My dad used to say that when things got depressing. Life feels gray.

I put too much of my hope in Michael and Louise. The happiness I felt was borrowed, and now it's gone.

They haven't spoken to one another in awhile. What's worse is Louise isn't really speakin' to anybody. Erin and I have tried to say hello, but she stares through us like our mama and daddy were glass-makers.

Michael and Erin talk every day. Sure, they've always been friends, but they're actin' funny. While he speaks to her, Erin's twiddles her hair and smiles like an idiot. Michael smiles like an idiot too.

They're acting like there's two teenagers down here instead of one. But there's more to it than that. Their whole thing makes my stomach squirm. Must make Louise just as sick, 'cause she hasn't been eating. Gruel doesn't motivate much of an appetite, but it does when there's nothin' else to eat.

I think Louise has reached what my mom used to call a dangerous place. When I was in trouble, or I couldn't seem to get my ish straight, my mom would tell me, Son, you're in a dangerous place. You better see yourself out. Louise doesn't seem to wanna see herself outta anywhere.

Over by the bathroom, Michael and Erin are talking quietly. Uh, he just tucked her hair behind her ear.

Dad used to tease Mom, and then tuck her hair behind her ear. I've seen guys do it to girls in movies. Why did Michael touch my sister like that?

* * * *

A/N: Poor Louise. Life in the basement must feel hopeless, and watching your husband flirt it up with someone else just adds to the shitstorm.

Dedicated to a constant and wonderful new reader, bayaBLUE

She always leaves comments that either have me thinking, laughing, or scrambling to edit a typo, three things a writer needs <3